#this is the closest i can get to living my blacksmith dreams

[min-play]

banned from woodwork class

#min draw #min move #minbitt #they took my wooden knife #belt sander my beloved #this is the closest i can get to living my blacksmith dreams

[loungemermaid]

Posting the newest chapter of The Loneliest Time because of the whole ao3 thing

Chapter Five: Fade Into You

Word count 3k, rated teen for dumb Katniss pining

Katniss pov

We are living together. There is (slightly) more touching. There is no sex. Nothing even really close to it, not since our deep kissing in the woods the other day. He keeps me quite literally at arms length. I may be wrapped in his arms or sprawled across his chest when we settle down for bed but by the time morning, lilac bright, streams in, he’s halfway across this absolute ocean of bed. Laying on his stomach, or back to me.

Maybe I’ve misunderstood, misinterpreted him. Maybe he’s less um, physical, that way. Maybe we will never have sex. Which is fine. It’s just unexpected. Kisses he takes and gives freely. His arms are never too far away, if I need to be tangled up in them. He sweeps me up and sets me on his lap often, but if my hands start to roam or linger, he catches them and holds them to his chest. His own (big, strong, delicate) hands are never not firmly on my arms or my waist, as far away from my breasts or my hips as he can get. Maybe he’s just as uneasy with all these things as I am. I appreciate the space but I. I notice other couples. I notice other mens’ hands, caresses, shrieked giggles from other women. I remember things my parents did. I want that. And I might be very sad if it isn’t ever like that.

I take to writing all my desires in a notebook. When he asks I tell him it’s journaling. Private. Things about the Games, things that haunt me in dreams. Which is not altogether untrue. His chest, the tiny flashes of hip, his thighs do haunt my dreams. They too send a thrill down my spine. Just for entirely different reasons. Mmm. The broad expanse of his back.

There are other things I imagine. Things I have to create out of wholecloth, because I’ve never seen them. Peeta’s coloring is all in one theme; dawn. He is all white puffy clouds, golden beams of light, dusty pink, lilac. I wonder if the theme continues. If he’s rosy anywhere else other than his lips. If his heavy golden curls, bright as breaking light, blanket him anywhere else. The hair so thin on his arms and legs, and he’s never not wearing a shirt. I wonder how much is on his chest, if any. I don’t remember any in the Arena, but that’s been months. And Peeta’s grown since then.

He is impossibly more broad. The line of his jaw is sharper, his arms wider, his shoulders more square. I say impossible for two reasons. One: we have not been doing any exercise. Our walk the other day, our failed attempt at a picnic, has been the closest we’ve gotten. Unless he’s leaving the house and hauling bags of flour without telling me. Since he still needs his cane sometimes to balance, I doubt it. Not that he wouldn’t have the strength to, just not the footing.

The other reason is he’s still only sixteen. I don’t know when his birthday is (when I asked he only replied in summer, so I suppose I missed it this year) but it’s a young sixteen. I’m wracking my brain to remember if Rye or Soren were this big at his age, but I wasn’t particularly interested in the other Mellarks, so I don’t have either one of them memorized the way I have Peeta. Gale is still taller, but much thinner built. Up and down, as they say. Straight up and down. Peeta is shorter but he already looks like a man. Like the pen and watercolor illustrations of lumberjacks or blacksmiths you’d find in those types of books, the ones passed around the housewives of the Seam, with dogeared pages and underlined passages and plain covers. Prim always wanted to read them, she didn’t understand why she never could. Hazelle read them plenty, why didn’t we? My mother made some excuse when the question came up, which helped because it always left me stammering. I didn’t read them either, but I’d seen them left open a few times, felt my face burn clear to the next day at the lurid words inside. As I chew on my pen, waiting for Peeta to get out of the shower, I realize I might as well be writing my own plaincover novel. Not that anyone but me will ever see these words.

We’re preparing for Soren’s birthday party, and we’re avoiding family. Avoiding isn’t really right. Just…not inviting conflict. Soren is only a little less than a year older than Peeta, so this party won’t be very big, I’m told. Nothing like a nineteenth birthday party.

No matter which side of the tracks you’re on, that’s the one birthday everyone celebrates. Your birthday of aging out, of freedom, of cheating death. They can have a sort of dark theme to them. Lots of images of skulls and bones. Peeta tells me in Town there’s flowers that symbolize death and life, usually weaved together into a crown. Not unlike a Victor’s crown. When I was younger, I must have planned my Nineteenth half a dozen times. After my father died, I didn’t have the taste for it. And now I’ll never have one. Not really. Oh I’m sure I might have a get together, maybe even a cake or something, but it won’t be a Nineteenth. Neither will Peeta. We’ll have to plan something extra special for the others, then, for Soren’s and Prim’s.

Gale’s is, of course, sooner. But I don’t know where to go with that, how to navigate it. Today is Saturday. If things were normal, I’d be seeing him tomorrow. But I don’t know if he wants to see me after last week. I don’t know if I want to see him. I file it all in my brain to chew over later. Worrying about it right now won’t do, so I’ll just worry about it later. I tuck my diary under my pillow, set about redoing my hair. This braid didn’t quite turn out right.

Peeta opens the door, hair curling up, robe slightly damp at the collar, steam swirling all around him. He’s sighing deeply, nearly panting, and the sound is absolutely delicious, sending shivers down my spine. Sympathetic vibrations; sometimes when you sing at a glass, you can break it with just your voice. Peeta’s sighs can break me. His skin is flushed sunset pink, and he heaves another sigh(my heart vibrating along with it) as he collapses on the bed, fluttering his eyes closed and just breathing. “I’ll never get tired of havin’ unlimited hot water.” He pants out as he scrubs at his face again.

I am absolutely transfixed, frozen as if caught in hovercraft beam, just staring shamelessly. He’s completely covered, but just by that thin flannel. Flannel that’s sticking to his thighs and chest because of the water. The water that was so hot Peeta’s skin is still steaming from the contact, minutes later. He rolls his eyes over at me. “Um, Katniss.”

“Yeah?” My voice catches in my throat.

“I need to get dressed.”

“Uh huh.” I’m chewing my pen again.

“Katniss.”

“What?”

“Please leave the room so I can get dressed.”

“Oh!” I scramble for my journal and pen, which both fall out of my hands approximately five times. “Sorry!” I call as I run down the stairs. What had come over me?

The walk down to the party is, well. Excruciating. My skin feels like static, everywhere, and I can’t look at Peeta. I can’t look at him because he’s wearing a navy blue shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves cuffed up. He’s using the cane today, sleek polished dark wood with a gold handle. The Capitol wouldn’t want anything less than pure elegance, even when it came to basic necessities like a mobility aid. His hair is perfectly touseled, having wriggled free of the gel from our walk. He tries once or twice to smooth it back but gives up shortly. “I need to cut it. It’s getting long.” He says with a chuckle, and it’s only then that I realize that I’ve not only been staring down the road, I’ve been doing it in pure silence.

“I like it. Long. But I also like it shorter. It’s your hair and you should do what you like with it. But I like it longer.”

That rambling, stuttering mess earns me another one of the increasingly common looks of absolute confusion he’s been giving me as of late. “Okay.”

I wince all the way to my toes and I have to shake it out of my fingertips, shake out that feeling. “Sorry. I. Sorry.” Another shudder hits me and I have to shake it out again, shake my head to clear it. I have to stare at my shoes to calm down, have to shove my hands in my pockets. It’s a pretty dress, what I’m wearing. Orange and brown plaid, down to my knees with a full enough skirt to dance in. For once I’m also wearing enough underskirts with it, so it flows from my hips. The top is sleeveless, and quite revealing, so I’ve paired it with a thin cream turtleneck, along with stockings, of course. I think Cinna would be pretty proud, though he’d hate that I’m still wearing my boots with them. I can’t help it, I can’t walk in those pretty shoes he sent, not all the way to town and then go dancing after. These are about to give up the ghost. I’ll have to talk to Delly about some new ones. Again, I could have some top of the line, machine stitched boots from the Capitol, but these are my hunting boots. To hunt in boots from the Capitol would be like hunting in a sequin dress. Besides, it’s good to spend my money in town.

We walk near silently the rest of the way, and I can’t help but wonder what I did wrong.

The party is in some little patio, from some restaurant that went under before I was born. There ain’t many in town; there’s no need. No one has any money. Mostly they’re for the very few Capitol tourists that scurry around come Reaping Day. Not exactly enough to sustain a business. Every once in a while, someone might go to one to celebrate something, but even then, that’s Townie kids. So, when this one went under, apparently no one rushed to take its place, and it has, according to Peeta, become the official unofficial place for teenagers to get drunk and dance. Shortly after we arrived, a glass was placed into my hand, a glass I’m still nursing. I’ve been holding up this little corner of the brick wall for a while, watching as everyone flits about, the conversations overlapping and rushing like a waterfall, Rhett Galbraith’s fiddle barely able to keep up. My eyes keep flitting around, because surely this isn’t legal. In fact, I can think of about three reasons why it ain’t, but then again, if I can manage to pay off Cray with a few turkeys, I’m certain a few kids could scrounge up something to make the peacekeepers look the other way for a birthday party. I should relax, but I’ve never quite known how to do that, especially in a crowd, especially when I’m the only non blonde. Well, except for Rhett and the band, but they were probably hired to be here. I take another sip of my drink and wrinkle my nose. It is, by only the most generous of definitions, a fruit and honey wine, made by Pepper Brookshire from the fruit that doesn’t sell at the grocery. It tastes awful, but she’ll get there, probably. It’s only her third batch, and she is only seventeen after all. She might make a decent outlaw yet, once she learns to balance her spices. I’m just about to go up, talk to her, offer to forage for her when Peeta catches me again. “There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

I stuff my free hand in my pocket again, rock back and forth on my heels, resolutely staring at a spare bit of straw on the ground. “I’ve been here.” I say, and it sounds meaner than I meant. I try and soften. “Did you get to catch up with some of your friends?”

“Mm.” He takes a sip from the jam jar serving as his wine glass, tries to hide his distaste of it, and I can just about pick out his real thoughts then. That the distaste isn’t just Pepper’s melomel. It’s that none of these people have been by a single day since we got home. Not to chat, not to ask if Peeta wanted to hang out. I’ve occasionally been over to Madge’s, but not a soul has come over to visit Peeta. “A little. Been wanting to talk with Delly but she looks…busy tonight, so.” He flicks his eyes over to Delly and Soren, who are caught up in the most awkward kissing I’ve ever seen, and that’s counting the replays of my own kissing.

I bite back a laugh. “That’s. An interesting development.”

Peeta smiles. “Mmm-hmm. They uh, signed their contract earlier today, apparently. A two year engagement. They’ll be married the July Fifth after their Nineteenths. Guess they’re getting used to each other.”

“I always thought that-” and I stop myself from following that line of thinking, because the look Peeta tells me both confirms it anyway and tells me it’s best not spoken about. I take another sip. Right. I can’t help it though, so I try and ask discreetly. “So, they both are?” I whisper, and Peeta only nods, and only once. “Better that way, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” He whispers. “It. No. It’s much better this way.”

Technically, legally, no one is supposed to mind who marries who. We all have the freedom to marry who we choose, or not at all. But that doesn’t mean everyone is going to like your choices here. Whether that’s intermarriage between Town and Seam or same sex marriage. Delly might be alright, not a ton of Town families mind their daughters being lesbians. Saves on dowries, I suppose, and it’s built in childcare. A lot of townspeople send their children to stay with their lesbian aunts or neighbors before school(that’s actually how Peeta and Delly met. Peeta’s aunt Rooba married Sutton, a family friend of the Cartwrights, and they babysat them both for years). With boys it’s different. Maybe because they’re expected to carry on the family business, maybe because it’s seen as unmanly, whatever the reasons, it always causes a stir. Another reason I’m becoming more grateful I grew up in the Seam. You might get some old people saying it ain’t right, or that it’s a waste, but honestly it usually works well for gay couples in the Seam. It’s not uncommon for a gay couple and a lesbian couple to share households, pitch in everything together, save up money for their nieces and nephews, and not have to work nearly as hard as other young couples just starting out do. It’s something I’ve considered once or twice before, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t have the heart for it.

But the reason Peeta told me to hush wasn’t because of society at large, it was because of his mother. If she found out that her favorite son was gay…well. It wouldn’t end well. I wonder if she’d actually kill him. That’s happened before, once rumors started to spread about someone, next thing you know a “wild dog” had gotten out, or they’d died of “fever” or some other equally thinly veiled excuse that no one believes. For the Mellarks it’d be almost too easy. They have pigs. All it’d take is one good push while Soren was out feeding and that would be that. A tragic accident that no peacekeeper would ever think twice over. I shudder into my drink, look into Peeta’s eyes. Yeah. A lavender marriage would be best. I set my drink down, not really wanting to pretend to drink it, and maybe it’s because of the music, or the way the kerosene lamps make Peeta’s hair shine like gold, or maybe it’s the slight chill in the air, or the tree frogs and mockingjays singing in the distance, or maybe it’s just because I can’t stop thinking of how he looked out of the shower, but I stick my hand out. “I know it ain’t proper, me being the one to ask, but do you wanna dance?”

He blushes like sunrise, like the first gentle rays that peak out and burn the sky bright pink. “I think I can let that go, just this once. Yes, I’d love to dance.”

And we do. It’s not perfect. It’s probably not even very good. I only know fast dances and Peeta is still a little unsure of himself, a little unsteady. But it feels good. It feels like the parts that have been missing, it feels intimate and close, like more of our hearts are stitching together. I’m humming under my breath before I know it, this song I haven’t heard in years. It’s more Town than Seam; they prefer older songs usually. Classical music, songs before the Dark Days, before the Fall. It’s slow, repetitive, and I think it’s supposed to be a woman that sings it, but Rhett’s brother is doing a good enough job at it. I know people are looking, and I don’t care. I want so desperately to be closer to Peeta, for him to quit this pulling away, to stop all these chaste kisses and put his hands on me. To touch me. To stop holding back. I nuzzle my nose in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent and feel the warmth enrobe me in fondness. “Fade into you” I sing, my voice crackling like fireplace embers, because I want this moment to just be for us, but it’s not, because there’s people around. Always someone around, always people watching. But I can’t help it. If I don’t say(or sing, in this case) it I’ll go mad. “Strange you never knew.” And I’m begging. I’m begging he gets what I mean by that. I’m pleading with the universe that he feels what I’m trying to say, the things I don’t have words for. That I could just press all this emotion from my chest into his and he’d just know.

But he doesn’t. He drops my hands and runs off, and I don’t follow him. He leaves and I don’t follow him because I can’t stop the tears running down my face. He leaves and I run the other direction because I love him and for some reason, we can’t ever talk about that.

#mer.txt #the loneliest time #fic tag ig #everlark fic #mutual pining #katniss being oblivious #autistic katniss #misreading social cues #brief mentions of homophobia

[evilassistantbutnotmean]

(Ooc) voice claim for Assistant, minbitt! Who actually is on here, @min-play (hope you don’t mind tagging ;w;)

Tags bc I want people to see : @sirlordevil @asrielmerrymoon @vaporeon2010317 @sagehyperfixates @the-belle-sisters @boredgoon @deadless-corpse

#(ooc) I might find a diffrent voice for them but for now Mins voice is very fitting :]]]]

[wistfulmistful]

#youtube #youtube short

[lathalea]

Day 14: Blame It on Cider, part 3

Here's today's fic for the Writer’s Month 2021 challenge (see@writersmonth for more info).

Today's prompt: word: duck | setting: dystopia

The setting for today was supposed to be a dystopia, but since it wouldn’t quite fit the overall mood of the fic, I sort of cheated and only made the story a bit darker. Don’t worry, there won’t be any angst (well, maybe a pinch…), after At Dawn I promised myself to be gentle this week… (Or at least I’m trying to!)

Thank you so much for your comments and support! Especially for you, I made this part a bit longer. Hope you like it (or hate it, that's also good!) 💙

Anyway… happy reading and brace yourselves! 😈

Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (Dwarf Female OC) Warnings: one grumpy king, one terrified herbalist, one writer you're going to hate really soon Rating: T Word count: 2,7 k words

You know the drill: a grumpy blacksmith met a cheeky herbalist from Ered Luin at a village wedding and then one thing led to another... Let's see what happened later. As usual, you can read this fic here and on AO3.

Khuzdul: Ursarusê - my tiny fire Khaglâ-dûm - Blue Halls (name of a Dwarven settlement shamelessly made up by me) Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls (the place in the Blue Mountains where Longbeards lived after Sack of Erebor)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

* * *

One year later

The baby was wailing at the top of her lungs.

“Shhh, Ursarusê, there is no need to cry,” Yrsa murmured softly to the little bundle strapped to her chest. The pebble’s cheeks were red, her pink mouth open wide, and a tuft of dark brown hair fell over her tiny wrinkled forehead.

The little one wailed again.

“I know, I know, you don’t like it when the pony walks so slow, but you have just eaten,” Yrsa smiled at the grimacing baby girl, caressing her cheek, while holding the reins in her other hand. “And we learned that you hate getting hiccups, don’t you, sweetling?”

The nanny goat that trotted next to her pony bleated gleefully.

“You see, Ursarusê? Even Buttercup agrees with me,” she added and began humming a peaceful tune. That did it. The wailing stopped almost instantly, and the little one opened her big blue eyes, her mouth still open, but no sound came out of it this time.

“That’s better, my sweet little girl,” Yrsa kissed the tiny forehead with a sigh of relief. Traveling through wilderness with a crying baby, even as dear as this tiny bundle of fire in her arms, could draw unwanted attention, especially if one was alone (not counting her pony nor that voracious goat). But Yrsa had no choice.

They rode on through the whole afternoon, stopping only for feeding breaks. If Yrsa’s calculations were correct, on the next day they would finally reach Khaglâ-dûm, the closest dwarven city in these parts, not far from the Bay of Forochel. She also hoped that the few last coins in her pocket would be enough to rent a room there for one or two nights, until her business in the city was concluded. After countless nights spent on the cold, hard ground, sleeping in a proper bed sounded like a dream.

After leaving the city, she would have to follow the trail along the northern part of the Blue Mountains, uncomfortably close to the settlement where the refugees from Erebor lived. Thorinuldûm. That thought made Yrsa grit her teeth. Thorin’s Halls. How vain one had to be to give his own name to a city?

Unfortunately, this was the only trail that led to her destination. It was already October, and she needed to visit several mountain villages before returning to her family home for the winter. She would just have to quickly pass the place where the Longbeards lived. Very quickly. Just in case. Meeting Thorin, His Grumpiness, was absolutely not on her agenda. Yrsa wasn’t a coward, oh no! She had been avoiding that area for a year for purely practical reasons. As they say, out of sight, out of mind. Besides, he had probably forgotten her by now. Just like she did. Their encounter was buried at the bottom of her mind, under tons of cobwebs and old dust. Seriously! Yrsa herself barely remembered that grumpy blacksmith who turned out to be a royal. She certainly hadn’t been dreaming about him! It had been over a year, for Mahal’s sake! What woman would dream about a Dwarf’s face, or his touch, or his lips pressing against her skin after such a long time? Besides, she had absolutely no memories of their encounter whatsoever. The way he effortlessly twirled her around and then held her in his arms when they danced? Her mind was devoid of any recollections whatsoever. The way his scorching hands slid along her curves? Nope, didn’t ring any bells. The way he smiled at her in that special way, making her feel as if she was the only person in the entire world worthy of smiling at? Nope, still nothing. Was he even broad-shouldered, looking more like a warrior than a blacksmith, and not, perhaps, portly? She couldn’t say. Her mind was completely blank. What about his dreamy blue eyes, darkened by passion? No… Were they really the color of the sky at sunset? And not, for example, brown? See? She didn’t even remember his eye color. All was well. She rode ahead with Ursarusê sleeping soundly in her arms.

***

“Why don’t ye join us for supper?” asked Kjaran, one of the merchants Yrsa met just when she was about to search for a good place to stop for the night. He wasn’t a Firebeard and his clothes were plain and worn out, not what she would expect from a merchant, so it made her wary at first. The Dwarf looked and acted more like a hard-working miner than anything else, but then a warm smile on his face made her feel more at ease. The merchant caravan wasn’t large and it was clear that they weren’t transporting any luxury goods. On the contrary, Yrsa noticed two or three wagons filled with coal. Wherever they were going, they wouldn’t fetch a good price for it. Coal was a very common commodity in these parts. “I’ll be happy to,” she accepted his invitation with a nod as he helped her off her pony.

A large cast iron soup kettle hung over the bonfire placed in the middle of their camp and judging by the smells, the meal was going to be delicious. Yrsa’s empty stomach growled. With Ursarusê to care for, she didn’t have many opportunities to hunt. Meager traveling rations were her only source of food for a while now and she had almost run out of them. There was barely enough for a meal or two.

“And I’ll be happy to take care of yer little ‘un if ye need a moment for yerself,” said Dagr, Kjaran’s wife, with a smile.

***

“Hope you don’t mind me askin’,” Dagr turned to Yrsa as they were changing the baby’s diaper in relative privacy, using a makeshift table that stood beside one of the wagons. Ursarusê gave them both a toothless grin, clearly happy with the amount of attention she was receiving. “But how come are you traveling alone with such a wee babe? And a daughter, too!”

“She is not my daughter,” Yrsa admitted quietly, something stirring uncomfortably in her chest. “I found her several weeks ago, in a forest, away from any settlements. First, I heard her crying and then I found this little gem under a birch, with the milk goat tied to the tree trunk.”

“Mahal…” the woman whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “Who would leave their little ‘un alone like that?”

Yrsa shrugged, still remembering the tiny girl’s pale cheeks and her shining eyes as she took her into her arms for the first time. The babe had weighed not much more than a little bird then.

“Whoever they were, they had to care for her at least a bit, even if they couldn’t keep her. There was a pouch full of coins and a talisman with a protection rune. I don’t even know if she had a name. I called her Ursarusê,” she finished swaddling the baby and placed her gently in a basket Dagr offered her. The girl gurgled happily, filling Yrsa’s heart with warmth.

“Aye, she’s tiny alright, but a fiery one too. Thank the Maker you found her,” Dagr agreed with a nod, making the cuffs in her blonde braids jingle. The sound was unusual and Yrsa quickly realized why: the woman’s cuffs weren’t made of silver nor any other metal, as it was customary. They were made of clay. She stopped herself from gasping in surprise; this was unheard of. Those dwarves had clearly fallen on hard times, not being able to procure any metal ores for this purpose.

“So, where ye’re headin’ now?” Dagr spoke after a few moments.

“To Khaglâ-dûm. I hope to find a good family for the babe there. Someone that can give her a proper home,” Yrsa looked into the girl’s innocent eyes and her heart clenched. She would miss Ursarusê, her Little Fire, but she didn’t have anything to offer her. Life on the road was not what a baby needed.

“Ye’re welcome to join us tomorrow, we’re goin’ the same way!” the woman offered, interrupting Yrsa’s gloomy thoughts.

“Are you sure I will not be a burden? I’m about to deprive you of some of your food!”

“Don’t ye worry!” Dagr shook her head. “We rarely go hungry on the trail. Our leader is a decent hunter… Speak of the warg!” Kjaran’s wife pointed with her head at the Dwarf who came out from the forest a moment before with a doe thrown over his shoulder. Several Dwarves surrounded him to take care of the kill. After a few exchanged remarks, the hunter turned his face towards the place where she and Dagr stood.

Yrsa glanced at the Dwarf.

Then at Dagr.

Then at the Dwarf again. At his broad shoulders, covered with a fur-lined tunic. At his long dark hair adorned with only two temple braids. At his furrowed brow and the noble line of his nose. At his short, but well-kempt beard.

Oh, no.

“T-this is your... leader?” she mumbled, blood draining from her face. This couldn’t be happening, not again!

“Aye, praise Mahal, he is,” the woman nodded with a fond smile.

“Ye’ll have to excuse me, lass, I need to take care of that doe before my husband ruins the hide.”

Yrsa had three options: one – run like the wind, two – pray to Mahal for the ground to open and swallow her whole, three – …

“You!” the Dwarf, Thorin, the blacksmith, His Haughtiness, exclaimed and started striding towards her, his eyes burning into her.

It was too late to escape. It had to be option three, then, Yrsa admitted to herself in defeat: she would stand there and act as if nothing had happened between them. Nothing whatsoever.

She swallowed and instinctively moved in front of the basket that stood on the table, shielding Ursarusê from his gaze.

“I have searched for you everywhere, woman!” His Majesticness rumbled. She forgot how deep that voice of his was (no, Yrsa’s knees, not a good moment to turn into jelly!). Also, she noticed one very obvious fact: there was an angry royal in front of her who didn’t even remember her name. Something stung in her chest.

Yrsa’s mother always taught her that politeness went a long way. Her father said that a sharp tongue could be as mighty as the sword. This was the first time in her life when she agreed with both of them.

“It is nice to see you too,” she offered, eliciting a grunt from the Dwarf in front of her.

“Don’t play games with me,” Thorin’s jaw clenched as he pierced her with his steel gaze. “Why did you leave?!”

“Me?” She asked very eloquently. Now it was time to play it cool, the less words, the better.

His frown deepened, “Who else? You disappeared into thin air, you witch! I woke up and you were gone without a word!”

Yrsa realized that he was dangerously close to the topic of honor, duty and marriage she wanted to avoid, and she wouldn’t have it. Even if his words stung. She didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his pity. One humiliation was enough.

“Maybe I didn’t feel like talking? Just like you: not informing me who you really are, Your Highness!” She retorted quickly. “Or whatever one calls a prince?!”

Thorin Oakenshield grunted, and a shadow passed his handsome face (yes, he was handsome, Yrsa couldn’t deny it any longer, even if he was a pompous grump). His jaw tightened.

“A king,” a reluctant murmur left his lips, his eyes never leaving her face.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

“A... what now?” Yrsa realized she needed to take slow, deep breaths; in and out; otherwise she was in danger of passing out. And if she passed out, she’d inevitably end up in his arms. In the blacksmith’s strong arms. No, the king’s arms. Just like she ended up that night over a year ago. She needed to breathe.

He stood there, not speaking a word. His face reminded her of statues of ancient dwarven rulers, solemn, cold and unmoving.

“A… king...” she finally managed to rasp that word out, erratic thoughts spinning in her head. Not a prince. A king. The King of Longbeards. This was much, much worse than she thought. Was she supposed to bow or curtsy now? Kiss his hand, demonstrating respect? Would she be punished for kissing his other body parts all those months ago without showing the proper reverence to His Kingliness? It was all cider’s fault, not hers! She barely remembered anything anyway! Mahal, have mercy, she had to pull herself together.

“It is but an empty title now,” the king in question spat in disdain, unaware of her inner turmoil.

“You are a king nevertheless! I don’t understand…,” Yrsa frowned.

“What were you doing in a village in the middle of nowhere, pretending to be a blacksmith?! Shouldn’t you be sitting on a throne and doing... kingly things?”

“There is no throne and I was not pretending,” he gritted out, the fire still blazing in his eyes. “I am a blacksmith by trade, and this is how I fend for my family, for my people. Does that satisfy your curiosity?!”

“I...” she looked away, her mind empty, her defiance suddenly deserting her under his intense gaze.

Thorin’s next words sounded hollow.

“Tell me, Yrsa, why did you leave? Have I done something… untoward?”

So she was mistaken. He remembered her name, after all. And he seemed concerned. Something fluttered in her chest. Probably anger. Yes, it had to be anger; anger at His Pompousness concealing who he truly was, keeping her unaware of that enormous social gap between them. Why did her throat decide to constrict at that very moment? It was not as if she had been harboring any silly hopes until now; she was a commoner, and he was a member of the royal family of Erebor. He simply spelled it out for her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she bit her lip, cursing herself, while her mind chose that exact instant to recall all those moments during their time together when Thorin actually did all the right things. Plenty of them. But she needed to focus. Yrsa groaned and spoke again, a spark of courage igniting in her heart, “But I had the right to leave when I wanted to!”

“You spent the whole evening, nay, the whole night with me and then you snuck away like a thief in the night, denying me the courtesy of a short conversation afterwards!” He retorted.

Oh, dear. It looked like she was right. The famous Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor (yes, she might have casually asked around about him a bit, for no reason whatsoever) had truly wanted to flaunt his honor at her, meaning: benevolently offer to marry her out of some misconceived duty. Those noble born Dwarves and their ideas… It had definitely been the right decision to leave that night before it was too late.

“There was nothing to talk about!” Yrsa protested, taking a step towards him.

This was the moment when Ursarusê decided to wail, clearly upset by their exchange. Yrsa turned to the pebble in the basket, bowed over her and murmured, “Hush, my little girl, it is nothing.” Ursarusê needed her more than this demanding Dwarf in front of her, the hero of Azanulbizar. King or not, he could wait.

“A babe…?” She heard him speak after a pause, the tone of his voice suddenly muffled.

“A little blessing from Mahal,” she whispered with a small smile. When the baby’s cries turned into cooing, she lifted her gaze.

Yrsa expected to see even more anger on the king’s face, but instead she encountered his widened eyes, his half opened mouth, his skin paler than before, and she wondered whether he was breathing at all.

“A babe…” he repeated softly, moving his gaze from the little bundle wrapped in her thick shawl to her. “Yrsa… Mahal, Yrsa…”

“Yes, a babe. What about it?” she frowned, lifting the basket and holding it against her chest. His behaviour was very puzzling. He didn’t even look angry at that moment. Definitely not angry, but… Terrified? Surprised? It was difficult to say. Had she grown a pair of horns or wings?

Something rustled loudly in the bushes. A sharp, guttural shriek pierced the silence. Something whooshed in the air.

“Duck!” Thorin shouted.

To be continued...

* * *

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

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Here is my masterlist for the Writer's Month 2021 event.

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @legolasbadass @justfollowtheroad @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @shalinizhara @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande

#writersmonth2021 #thorin fic #thorin #the hobbit fic #fanfiction #thorin x yrsa #thorin x oc #grumpy thorin #cute babies are cute #baby #blue mountains #middle earth #the hobbit #longbeards #tolkien fanfic #fanfic

[elle-imagines]

SFW

Tobirama isn’t as mean and rigid as everyone makes him out to be. Behind his reserved exterior is a person who enjoys the calmness of rivers, indulges in games of shogi on his porch, and relaxes with his brother with long conversations and sake. He is much more than a shinobi. He is a man who cares for his family and wants the best for those he loves.

Definitely a daydreamer, and more nostalgic than he lets on. Although he can be focused and meticulous, he has moments where he dazes away from the real world and thinks about his siblings. He dreams of the life he had before the war, and you can find him visiting places he used to venture out to with his brothers. The fallen tree they used to hide under. The lake they used to swim in before it became a war zone. The blacksmith’s shop, long abandoned, where they would practice their skills with bokken. While many people live in the present and look forward to the future, Tobirama remains in the past, severely affected by the war.

It puts him in a dark place when people put finished food or drink containers back, rather than in the trash. He also dislikes when people whistle. And

His home is very organized. Everything has its place. Books are in alphabetical order, his futon is neatly rolled and put away, and various village district maps and jutsu scrolls are put away in a catalogued manner. Unsurprisingly, in his free time he would reorganize his items to bring himself a sense of calmness.

Tobirama has a great fear of uncertainty. Many things he cherished were taken from him and he couldn’t prepare. This has caused him to always want to think ahead and stay away from situations that leave him vulnerable, including finding love.

He has an uncanny ability to remember little details about people. Blame it on being a tactician, and a meticulous one at that. He will remember food orders, your parent’s names, even certain outfits you wore. He would say something like, “I’ll check to see if Lake Suwa is free of its criminal activity, then we can go,” even when you told him you swam there as a child when you were eight years old. Yeah. Uncanny.

Speaking of swimming, he is great at it and enjoys water activities in general. He spends most of his time near there to create new jutsu, too. Tobirama also likes to cook at home, so he would fish regularly and buy vegetables at the market.

Very courteous towards others, even if he looks like he isn’t. He’s always holding doors open, helping villagers fix their homes or training their children, and helping teachers with lesson plans at the local school. Quiet, taciturn, but a soft heart towards the vulnerable. Tobirama doesn’t hesitate to maintain a presence around the village, so that everyone knows they are watched over and safe.

Tobirama will show his displeasure on his face. When he was young, his father always scolded him on not developing a “mask” and showing his emotions on his sleeve (primarily negative ones). Annoyance, contempt, jealously, it’s all there, and he won’t care to hide it at all. Such an attitude.

NSFW

Developing intimacy with someone takes a long time for him to do. Patience is important to him. The moment he feels rushed, he will pull away. Generally, he does not like being touched my most people including those closest to him. Fighting and being brutalized often also created a sense of cautiousness within him. He isn’t used to being touched softly or without someone trying to hurt him.

Tobirama has his moments where he shows desire for you. Not taking his eyes off you as you undress in the evening, helping you run your bath and lingering, kissing you in a way that leaves you gasping.

He wouldn’t mind if you initiated, he may actually prefer it. He doesn’t know how to, and it stalls him from telling you what he wants. Do it for him.

Tobirama prefers to create variety in different positions rather than kinks. I wouldn’t describe him as having a lot of kinks when you both begin, rather he finds certain things he likes and makes it a habit. He will definitely get you bent out of shape and won’t mind not using the bed every time.

He likes to indulge in a bit of roughness, though he prefers a more passionate, slow lovemaking. He’s used to using his body as a patron of battle, moving at an agile and forceful speed while not leaving room for his enemies to dominate him. Creating that divide in the bedroom will take time, but he makes sure never to hurt you. He may hurt the bedsprings, though.

Prefers to be on top and keep control. After he has built enough trust he won’t mind relinquishing it.

He’s detail-oriented in bed as well, and will leave no plane or curve untouched from his hands and tongue. He adapts his motions to your sounds, and explores his curiosity of how loud you’d go if he did something a bit different. As he fulfills his duty to care for you and the village, he doesn’t hesitate to fulfill carrying you to your pleasure. Every sound and tug of his hair is praise that motivates him harder.

#tobirama #senju #senju tobirama #tobirama senju #Naruto Shippuden #naruto headcanon #naruto #naruto headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #imagine #imagines

[smokedstorybara]

So! The promised fanfic ramble!

It’s gonna be an Old Guard Kaysanova fairytale? au inspired loosely by you know i dreamed about you (before i saw you) by BeeLove and Space Angel Hermann and Witch Doctor Newt by WaldosAkimbo on AO3 (links in a reblog so this’ll show up in tags) and several fairytales I grew up on

But, like, without any magic or supernatural elements so far

(Can’t do a readmore cause my laptop broke, sorry)

So it starts with Nicolò in a monastery asking his lover to run away with him to somewhere they can be together openly and his lover basically saying he’s with Nicolò specifically cause he thought he’d be the least likely to catch feelings. Nicolò kinda laughs it off like “yeah it was just a joke, duh” and then after the guy leaves he pulls an already packed bag out from under his cot and just takes off. Just, like, “screw this I’m out.”

Travels around for, like, a year or so before settling in a little one room house on the very outskirts (like, a bit of a walk from the rest of town) of a cute village to the east. Starts a big garden and sells vegetables and stuff in the local market. Befriends inquisitive teens Nile and her brother (don’t know if he’s got a canon name and can’t find anything on it) and local blacksmith Andromache and her wife Quynh. Starts writing a collection of recipes to also sell cause he kinda missed all the writing he did at the monastery. Also, helps out the town doctor whenever they need an extra hand.

Builds a whole reputation as the mysterious, quiet but kind, plant guy who lives at the edge of town (possibly a witch? But definitely a good one).

Then one day he’s out walking along the riverbank during a storm - maybe heading home from somewhere when it hits? - and sees someone in the water, struggling. Gets the guy out, somehow, and carries him to his place cause it’s closest and the man definitely needs to get somewhere warm and dry. He doesn’t recognize him and the guy has a pretty bad fever and a nasty looking cut on his leg, so he decides to give up his bed to this stranger and tend to him until he’s well.

-

Crown Prince Yusuf wakes up a couple days after falling into the river while traveling to find himself in this tiny one room house filled with plants and books and loose paper and is immediately enamored with the place - and it’s owner, his hero, the beautiful and shy Nicolò.

(He’s told, by Nicolò and the good-humored boy who’s running his market stall for him while he tends to Yusuf, that this isn’t the first time he’s woken since Nicolò fished him out of the river, but it is the first time he’s been lucid - apparently he called Nicolò an angel at one point, and the village boy finds it very amusing)

After his fever breaks a couple days later, when it’s just his leg keeping him there (and his huge crush on Nicolò), he convinces Nicolò that there’s enough room on the bed for both of them and really there’s no good to him sleeping in his creaky little wooden chair. Mostly by pulling Nicolò down next to him when he helps Yusuf back to bed after testing his leg by walking around the room. And then refusing to let go.

They both quickly grow accustomed to sleeping with Nicolò wrapped in Yusuf’s arms.

Of course neither of them say anything about their growing feelings cause Yusuf is Nicolò’s patient and Nicolò mentioned early on that he used to live in a monastery and left cause he fell in love with one of the other priests, who didn’t return his feelings, and Yusuf doesn’t know how fresh that heartbreak is for him.

After he gets well enough, Yusuf starts going to market with Nicolò and hanging around his stall, gossiping with the townspeople and making friends. He starts to wonder if maybe he could just... stay, even after he finishes healing. This life is just so peaceful and happy and he wants it, wants to be able to keep it.

But then some soldiers come through town searching for the missing crown prince and he realizes he can’t stay.

He tells Nicolò that he has to leave, that he has responsibilities he has to get back to. Nicolò says he understands (he does). They kinda skirt around acknowledging their feelings for each other, and in the process realize the other definitely feels the same, and Yusuf promises to return. At some point.

Yusuf returns home and there’s a big celebration. The crown prince has returned alive and safe! After, he tells his family everything that happened. His little sister laughs at him - as is her job as little sister - but his parents are pretty understanding and do their best to comfort him.

The next summer, the royal family goes to their summer house out in the countryside, and Yusuf realizes it’s only, like, a couple days’ walk from Nicolò’s town. He spends the next couple days staring out into the distance and yearning so visibly that eventually his mother tells him to go, spend the rest of summer with his man. So he packs a bag and goes.

Nicolò’s gardening when Yusuf arrives and they have a really nice, heartfelt reunion with a big hug and tears and stuff. Yusuf explains to Nicolò that he can only stay for the summer, that as soon as autumn starts he has to leave again. Nicolò again says he understands, because he does. And they fall back into the comfortable routine from before Yusuf left - sharing the bed, walking to market together, Yusuf sketching or writing poetry while Nicolò works in the garden (Nicolò secretly collecting all the poems and sketches Yusuf discards and carefully copying them with the fancy script and steady hand he learned in the monastery and binding them together with twine), cooking together, and basically just behaving like they’re married.

Then autumn comes and Yusuf leaves, promising to return the next summer. And he does. And the summer after.

For several years they build a relationship in summers. In gardening and cooking and laughing with the neighbors at market. Never saying anything about what they mean to each other (beyond, like, light flirting) but never needing to, always simply understanding. But also never acting on that feeling - beyond the cuddling at night and spending all day together, but the blacksmith’s wife doesn’t count that and her opinion is important.

(Not too important, she’s just a little protective of her friend and his feelings and suspicious of this man who’s only there in the summer and only gives vague excuses of ‘responsibilities’ for why he has to leave for the rest of the year - “what if he’s got a wife?” “Trust me Quynh, he’s not that kind of man.” “But are you sure?”)

Then one year Yusuf looks around the little house and looks at his sketches and has a thought. A thought that sticks with him all the way home (‘home’ meaning ‘where he and his family live 3/4 of the year’, though he’s not entirely sure the word still fits and wouldn’t be better suited attached to somewhere a little more green and peaceful). And he brings it up to his mother, who encourages him to follow through.

So the next summer, when he returns to the village and to Nicolò, he brings canvas and paints and other supplies and explains to Nicolò that he wants to be able to keep pieces of this place with him the rest of the year, to look at when he misses it all too much or when things get overwhelming and he needs some of the peace and comfort of the place and it’s people.

Nicolò kisses him. (Finally).

He kisses back.

They talk. Finally acknowledging how they feel, but also that it’s not something that can actually go anywhere - though not going into why - and agree it’s probably best to just continue as they have been. (If Quynh were party to this conversation she would likely be very upset).

So that summer things stay mostly the same, except Yusuf paints. Everything.

At one point he makes a flower crown and plops it on Nicolò’s head while he gardens and then instantly goes to paint that because it’s just too soft. He writes “A King Tending to His Subjects” on the back.

He shows all the paintings to his parents after summer has ended and they decide they all need to be framed and hung up around the palace. Yusuf is very on board with this plan since it makes looking at them whenever he needs to easier.

Until he realizes it means his sister can also look at them whenever she wants to, and tease him.

She doesn’t tease him. Instead she reminds him he will have to get married at some point, and marrying some nobody former priest would make some of the wealthy and powerful suitors he’s turned down very upset. He tells her he knows, but wants to have as much of Nicolò as he can, while he can. Would rather spend these summers with him before having to marry someone else than deprive himself of that specific happiness he’s found altogether.

She drops the topic.

-

Summer begins again and Yusuf doesn’t arrive. Nicolò waits out in front of his house every day, late into the evening. But no Yusuf.

Quynh starts to throw theories of why and threats of what she’ll do to him if he ever shows his face there again. Nicolò assures her that it’s not necessary and that he’s certain there’s a good reason.

Then about a month into the summer a young woman rides into town in a desperate frenzy, asking where Nicolò lives. Nile leads her to Nicolò’s little house.

She jumps off her horse as soon as she sees Nicolò and tells him in a rush that Yusuf had been kidnapped - by Keane, a dangerous outlaw - just before summer. That none of the warriors their parents sent had been able to get him back and that one of their advisors, a man named James Copley, had suggested they promise his hand in marriage to whoever rescues him in order to better motivate some of their less motivated allies.

Their father had gone through with it in desperation, before the family realized the whole thing was likely a ploy by King Stephen - a rumored associate of Keane’s - to get Yusuf to be his husband after being turned down by him just weeks before the kidnapping.

But Yusuf’s father can’t go back on his decree, so they need Nicolò to get to Yusuf before Stephen (in part because they really don’t want Yusuf to be forced to marry someone he doesn’t love just because he got kidnapped because Stephen can’t handle rejection, and in part because the decree does mean if Nicolò rescues Yusuf they can marry without causing problems with any allies - aside from Stephen, but really do they want to stay allies with him after this?).

Nicolò snaps into action, asking Nile’s brother - who had been helping him with his work - to run his market stall and tend his garden while he’s gone. And then Nile insists on going with him, informing him that Andromache has been altering her father’s old armor to fit her, and should be finished by now, and reminding him that he himself taught her and her brother how to wield a sword (her brother had seen Nicolò’s while visiting once when they were still teens and insisted on learning, Nile had joined as soon as she found out. Nicolò had never been good at telling them no). Nicolò tells her to meet him in the town square at sunrise and then turns into his house to prepare.

Nile offers Yusuf’s sister a place to spend the night and leads her back into town. They stop by the blacksmith, to tell her what’s happening and that Nile will need the armor by sunrise, on their way to Nile’s home. Where they explain everything again to Nile’s mother.

At sunrise, when they bring Nile’s armor to her in the square, Andromache and Quynh insist on coming as well. The five of them set off, Yusuf’s sister leading.

Along the way, royal guard Sébastien LeLivre intercepts them, confessing to being involved in the kidnapping - not that he knew that’s what was happening, just that a friend of his convinced him to skip part of his rounds that night - and wanting to help make it right. They welcome him into the group, not having time to really get into whether they should and not wanting to waste time convincing him to go home either.

They arrive at Keane’s stronghold to find it swarming with outlaws. The group fights their way to the door and Nicolò goes in while the others stay to continue fighting the horde.

When he gets to the room Yusuf is held in, King Stephen is already there. Shouting at Keane that he explicitly said to cause no physical damage to the prince.

Nicolò takes advantage of Keane’s distraction to take him out. And then it’s just him, his love, and Stephen. Who he suddenly realizes he knows, and who recognizes him at the same time.

They fight - with swords and words. (Though first Nicolò asks when Stephen became a king and is told the man’s brother died not long after Nicolò left the monastery and as he had no heir, Stephen was excused from the priesthood to take the throne).

Eventually, (Inevitably), Nicolò wins. Unfortunately, not without great injury.

Nicolò helps Yusuf to stand and they support each other out of there. As they walk, Yusuf asks questions, and makes comments, about things said during the fight. Mostly just disparaging Nicolò’s old taste in men (Nicolò responds that his taste has definitely improved since he left the monastery) and coming to the discovery that Nicolò is the runaway prince of Genoa. Fourth son of the king and queen, who was sent into the priesthood young and then disappeared.

When they exit the building, the group clears them a path to the horse and they all ride off as fast and as far as they can. And then they stop to tend Yusuf and Nicolò’s wounds. Despite the men’s protests that they need to keep moving. They take a lesser-known path when they resume their journey, with the hope that Stephen’s men won’t find them on it, so that they need not push their horse - and themselves - too hard.

They arrive at the palace to find Stephen has again beaten them, and is spinning lies to Yusuf’s parents. Telling them that Nicolò orchestrated the kidnapping in order to manipulate his way into becoming consort to a crown prince.

Of course, the king and queen take the word of both their children and one of their guards (Sebastien) over the king known to have dealings with Keane, who Yusuf turned down just weeks before his kidnapping.

(“Besides,” Yusuf’s father points out diplomatically, “I can’t go back on my decree. So whether you’re right or not, Yusuf is marrying this Nicolò. Ah well. Nothing to be done.”)

-

They have two wedding ceremonies: the big, grand, official one at the palace with hundreds of guests (at which Nicolò is reunited with his family - happily in some cases, less so in others), and the small, peaceful one in Nicolò’s garden. They wear flower crowns in the second and they both cry (as does Quynh, but she will never admit it).

#the old guard #kaysanova #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #stream of consciousness

[stylishanachronism]

So it is in fact Watcher Wednesday, I have a headache, the neighbors are still firing off fireworks and setting off all the car alarms on that side of the street, here’s a sliver of an essay about Pillars of Eternity and sheep.

So if you’ve been following along at all, you’ll know I have a dearly held headcanon that Edér, outside of seasonal agricultural work, supports himself by knitting elaborate ring lace shawls (no seriously what the fuck is he supposed to be doing all year Obsidian answer me who is making his socks), because canonically most of the Dyrwood’s production is tied up in fancy wool and fancy timber. More specifically, per the guidebook, “Wyr (“wire” - Aedyran) wool, gal glas (“green thorn” - Glanfathan) timber, Glanfathan deer hide, tin, lead, iron, copper.” (PGB1, pg 48), and it’s telling that the particular types of wool and timber are specified, as they aren’t for any other country(1). This is surprisingly well supported in game, between the set dressing in the Gift, the shipwreck scavengers beneath the bridge, and Dyrford’s main industry, namely tanning and dyework, as well as the lack of either crop industry on a wide scale, or food prepared for shipment in the Gift. (It does raise the question of ‘where are all the sheep’, but considering Obsidian knows nothing about textiles and the fact adding Yet Another model probably wasn’t the best use of their time, I’m cross about it but I’ll excuse it)

Fun fact: shipping roving is a waste of everybody’s time. Shipping thread on a scale that would enable somebody else to turn it into cloth is less so, but it’s significantly more expensive. Cloth takes up a lot less space than either option (especially roving), and is a lot harder to damage/a lot easier to protect during the process, especially since there’s a smidge more evidence(2) that wyr wool is a fine, light, long fiber wool, and therefore prone to matting in its base state.

This is not in the game at all, and barely barely barely in the guidebooks, but that set of facts means the Dyrwood is probably known for its weavers and knitters, and they probably import a lot more dye than even Aedyr, who are implicated to buy dyed in the wool textiles(3), which leads to the idea that the Dyrwood and Readceras have very strong economic reasons to get over their differences, (which is openly canon, but without explanation) and in the meantime Stalwart’s smuggling business? Almost entirely dye into the Dyrwood. The same economic pressure would explain why Aedyr was so eager to go back to trading with them, instead of being deeply pissy about dealing with a ‘failed’ colony, as they are with Readceras.(4)

On another tack, this takes everything about the Pearl Bluffs and makes it actually relevant to Defiance Bay as a city, because shelling out municipal funds on adventurers because one of your priestesses is having bad symbolic dreams is... a little sketchy, considering the state of the city, but if hiring those adventurers also gets rid of a major predator in the closest accessible good grazing land? Sheep are much more valuable than dreams, and that’s a reasonable expense. (It also explains why there’s absolutely nothing there, because local grazing land > mildly inaccessible but well placed military infastructure, because if I was worried about invasions by sea (which Defiance Bay canonically is), having some sort of lookout on the cliffs above the port would be a good idea, but not if it would hurt the city’s main industry.)(5)

Circling back around to the lack of crop industry, I know mechanically nobody wanted to animate Yet Another field of wheat (or what have you. There’s a lot of options there but they didn’t put it in so We Just Don’t Know(6)), and so it’s not that they don’t exist it’s that they aren’t pictured, just like the dozens and dozens of little towns that ought to be peppered across the place, which must exist but aren’t pictured (or named), but like... I desperately want to know what Obsidian thought everybody was doing all year, and where they were supposed to be living. (Let’s face it, I want a real map, with county lines and everything.) I am, obviously, proposing that in addition to the many many necessary industries (coopers! more blacksmiths! every single citizen from the age of being able to hold a pair of needles knits and spins so they don’t go naked! glaizers! lumberjacks! carpenters! butchers! I could go on!), that pretty much everybody is involved in some sort of fiber production, mostly wool but linen as well (preparing flax is No Joke), or otherwise dye preparation in some form or other, but like... what did Obsidian think. Where are the sheep?

Footnotes:

1: Per the guidebook: Readceras produces “Vorlas (purple dye), corn, corn flour, wool, cotton (minimal), lumber“ (pg 50), the Republics “Iron, copper, silver, glassworks, ships, spices, clocks, and astronomical equipment” (pg 52), Aedyr “Iron, fine steel, cotton, dyes, lumber (a major export of many varieties), spices” (pg 54), and Eir Glanfath “Gal glas (“green thorn” - Glanfathan) timber, Glanfathan deer hide, gold, adra shell (the odd shell material found in Engwithan ruins), rare fungi“ (pg 57) even though their exporting adra makes zero goddamned sense. No other countries/cultures have listed products, though Deadfire made a good effort at showing the exports of individual cities in the Deadfire. I’m not citing it because I’m too lazy to go copy all that shit down by hand, though.

2: The evidence on wyr wool is, very basically, it’s either a long fiber wool (wire like, able to be drawn very fine), or a short fiber wool (wiry, coarse). Long fiber wool is more desirable, and more likely to be specified out on a consumer level, versus a more ordinary short fiber wool, where knowing the provenance really wouldn’t change much. Long fiber is also a much lighter wool, the sheep more delicate (not by much, but still), and the Dyrwood’s climate as shown doesn’t particularly require a hardier sheep. Without actual sheep to look at, or somebody on staff with enough textile knowledge to incorporate said knowledge literally anywhere, there’s not a ton of evidence either way, but I have my biases, and finer wool suits them so that’s the argument I’m making.

3: “Aedyran clothing is known for being relatively simple in construction and often using large, colorful striped or checkered patterns for accents.” (pg 54) Trying to dye stripes is a misery. Trying to dye checks is worse. Weaving stripes or checks, on the other hand, is very, very easy, but requires you to dye the thread before it’s processed.

4: I would cite the guidebooks here, but since they never actually come out and say ‘there was five years of famine and it was not great’, I can’t, but uh, there was (at least) five years of famine and it was not great. A fraction of the population wandered off to make candles in sufficient quantities that they’re a minor Dyrwodian import (”Many a Dyrwoodan lord who illuminated their keep (and cursed all Readcerans) unknowingly did so by the light of Eothasian candles.” (PGB2, pg 81), in reference to The Bright Shephards, said fraction with the candles), and another went to the Deadfire, where they were delighted to finally be successful farmers (”To the delight of these wayward pilgrims, their crops took to Deadfire soil better than they had in Readceras,” (pg 80), in reference to the Children of the Dawnstars), even though they... don’t actually grow anything in common with Readceras, and meanwhile Aedyr continued to be dicks about the whole mess, even as Readceras proper finally got their feet under themselves, and managed to get the Vorlas properly established to the point where it’s their main export. (Look, Vorlas is fantasy indigo, and indigo takes a couple of years to like, not die at the first hint of literally anything going wrong. It’s more finicky than roses, especially since they’re not growing it in a region it’s built for, there’s a reason everything went to shit.)

5: It also explains some of the bounties, because ‘dangerous thing that only bothers *really* stupid travelers’ is a much smaller problem than ‘dangerous thing that bothers fairly defenseless essential livelihoods’. Also mechanically you’re paid for the Caed Nua bounties but like... Caed Nua is setting the bounty? so you aren’t being paid you’re just saving the house a lot of money to get somebody else to do it. You need to defend your sheep as well as your roads, I guess is what I’m saying?

6: Look, someday I will dig through every recipe I can get my hands on, in game or in the cookbook, and come up with a list of things the Dyrwood probably grows for food, but today is not that day, so right now your guess is as good as mine, as long as your guess is ‘not corn’.

#pillars of eternity #hey look it's time for another Terrible Essay #I'm going to be honest this is mostly not about sheep #some of the quotations were lightly edited for punctuation because whoever did the actual editing did a bad job at that part #there is more to this about why Aedyr's dye-focused colonies failed but like that gets into growing regions and shit #the map *still* confuses the shit out of me Obsidian show me your goddamned atlas #we are trying Yet Another method of footnotes let me know if it's working #one of the things I am most cross about in deadfire is that how economic relations shaped up between the dyrwood and readceras #is literally never once mentioned much less expanded on #like tell me about how that developed you spent so much time talking about it in pillars #let me tell you I have never been more vindicated than the fact I looked at the Dyrwood's fashion in Pillars and said NO THANKS #and then Deadfire turned around and went the same general direction I did when they retconned it #gal glas lumber is either some sort of citrus wood or Literally Green #I haven't decided which one I think is more likely/funnier #further agricultural thoughts include: are they raising chickens or doves or both #and where are the orchards and can I reasonably argue about citrus being a thing (the answer is probably no) #WAIT HOLD ON I JUST THOUGHT OF A THING #do you think people in the know refer to ethosians as beekeepers #like the bright shephards are all about bees because candles #so like do you think 'oh don't bother him he keeps bees' #or like 'go tell the bees those fuckers are coming' #is a way of keeping your neighbors safe from the dozens or particularly militant magranites or what have you #it's a good thing I never post fiction because I will call eder a beekeeper and I will confuse everyone including myself later #I'm sorry I have a headache I don't think I'm making much sense #also i think the neighbors are currently playing streetfighter on the giant projector screen right now and I Want to Die it is Very Loud

[lisinfleur]

T&T - Chapter 3: Stories

Author’s Notes | And life moves on! Are you guys liking it? Leave me your comments! They inspire me to do more! Words | 2519 ⁑ Warnings: None

Life beside Ivar was something... Strange.

Iliana took some time to get used to how natural it was for him to take a life and get rid of bodies as if they were animals he had just hunted. She rather to ignore the pleasure in his eyes when a man would struggle a little more to die or cover him in blood. Or the fascination she could feel in his eyes the first time blood spat on her face, covering her cheeks he held her hand to prevent her from cleaning on spot. He had that strange fascination with death and blood that, sometimes, would remind her of master Askord and his wife, but he was utterly different from them.

Despite how ruthless and harsh he was almost all the time, to her, Ivar was gentle. She was even able to see him laughing sometimes, usually at innocent things she said or some foolishness he heard around about him or his brothers. People would still speak about them, but few of them were really recognizing the fallen king beside Iliana and she understood when Ivar oriented her to keep her name hidden as he would do with his own for a while: They were both being persecuted and he didn't know if Oleg would hunt him after knowing he was alive. So, better not to give them a trail to follow.

After the second town, they sold the chariot and one of the horses, exchanging it for some gold and a smaller chariot with coverage for the rainy days but not so luxurious as the one they stole from that man. Iliana bought herself a peasant's dress different from what she was wearing before and Ivar paid for simpler braces that would keep his legs tied and firm after his leg was healed.

Of course, he wanted his crutch and braces back so he could walk once again, but that wasn't the time to exhibit his talent especially because among his people, Ivar the Boneless was well known as one of the - if not the only one of the - crippled men able to walk around and stand for himself. It would be better to drag himself for a while and keep the coverage.

His daggers were back and Iliana could see him swirling them almost all the time when he wasn't guiding the horses in her place. On some days, they would travel day and night, exchanging places and sleeping at the cart. On some others, they would travel just during the day, settling camp during the night to rest together until the next dawn.

Iliana caught herself thinking if life was like that until the end of it, she wouldn't mind. It wasn't bad to have him beside her, to have the nights of conversation or the days of traveling... The only thing she didn't like was to arrive and start that cycle once again. However, this time, Ivar started with something different.

As soon as they arrived at the town, Iliana started messing with her dress, loosening the cleavage as she was starting to get used to doing, when Ivar's fingers touched her hands, stopping her from doing this.

Iliana looked at him and saw that tenderness in her eyes once again.

"I think I can get us some gold in a different way this time. Come with me," Ivar said, tying the chariot beside the blacksmith and getting in with her beside him.

"What can I do to help, my friend?" the old man said, and Ivar took a seat beside his forge looking around.

"Are you alone?" he asked, nosy.

Causing the man to look at both of them with a brow up.

He had some assholes coming in that way, asking if he was alone just to steal him after he answered them yes.

"My son is inside... What do you want?" the old man lied.

His son was long gone. The raids and wars between their people had long taken his life. But he saw Ivar's face relaxing and he sighed.

"So, you don't need help, right?" he said, almost as if he was disappointed.

"Are you looking for a job?" the blacksmith stopped his work, approaching Ivar after cleaning his forehead. "What do you think you can do here, boy?"

Boy...

Iliana would have laughed if she didn't know Ivar was serious about his idea at that place - and that was also a chance for her to finally stop having to see so many men dying for them to eat. So, she held her breath, observing the beautiful pieces around, trying not to focus on how funny it was to think a simple blacksmith was calling a son of Ragnar - one of the most feared ones among his sons - a boy...

"Do you see this?" Ivar showed him a ring Iliana had already seen in his fingers.

A sigil she thought was his own and she was right.

"I did it," he said, delivering the piece at the hands of the blacksmith who started looking at it, evaluating the work in his hands. "The daggers were paid, but I sharpened them. I can do precise services and my arms are strong despite my legs."

The man looked at him. Indeed, the boy had a strong torso and if he was dragging himself so easily around, he could lift some good weight. If that was really his work, then his store would be able to deliver its orders in half of the usual time.

"Show me, boy," the man stated, giving him a sword that was strange at Iliana's eyes. "Sharp, not smaller," he ordered.

And Ivar smiled at his chance.

"The name is Eldrich. And the woman is Lina..." he introduced, using new fake names, new identities for them both for a while. "My wife."

The blacksmith looked at Iliana and then at Ivar once again, suspicious.

"She's too much of a woman for a boy like you, don't you think?"

"My husband said he can do precise works and I tell you, my friend, he can do them, pretty well," Iliana spat back, acid, to Ivar's surprise.

But the old man laughed instead of getting offended by her words.

"I see... I'm Rohan. And I'm curious to see if your words are true, young lady. Now show me your work, boy."

Ivar rolled his eyes - even knowing his name, that man wouldn't stop calling him a boy. However, it wasn't something that bad and Iliana smiled at him when he crossed her way going to the sharpener.

"Thank you," she said, catching Ivar's eyes for an instant.

But he only nodded, starting his work.

She knew he had done that for her... It would be pretty less lucrative. Pretty more work to be done for half of the gold they could earn with the killing. But at least, Iliana would be able to put her face on the pillow without the bad dreams Ivar knew were haunting her since they met each other.

With attention, he sharpened that blade the closest to perfection he could do, not taking too much time, under the eagle eyes of Rohan who slowly started to relax his body language watching as Ivar was working so precisely, showing his words weren't lies.

Iliana sometimes took water for him, or a wet cloth, making his work easier by easing the heat around him, taking care of him like a wife would do if she had nothing more to do but following her husband around...

She had to admit it was strange for her that Ivar had introduced her as his wife so easily, but it wasn't such a strange role to take.

With a few hours, Ivar delivered the word perfectly sharpened in the hands of the smith. Rohan evaluated his work and sighed, completely relaxed.

"Do you have where to stay, Eldrich? Cause I saw you came in a cart with your woman..." he asked.

Ivar and Iliana exchanged a glare before Ivar could answer.

"I would stay in the inn."

"So, you stay at the cabin I have behind the store. I live in the house beside the smithy so the cabin is empty since my son died in battle," Rohan confessed and Ivar nodded.

"He's better than us... Feasting in Valhalla with the gods," Ivar said, getting a small smile from the old man who patted his shoulder.

"You get a quarter of every work we do together. Half of every work you do by yourself. The remaining is divided for supplies and for the house. It is less than you would pay for the inn and will keep a roof over your heads. You can use my stable for your horse. And I'll pay you to deliver things as well, full price since you'll be using your cart. Does it sound like a good proposal for you?"

Ivar smiled. He was thinking about something smaller but the old man was being very generous. He nodded shaking the hand of the smith.

"We have a deal, old man," he said and Rohan smiled.

"Let's get to work, boy."

Iliana smiled.

Despite the wronged names, there was something like a friendship starting there. Instead of a dead man, they finally entered a town starting something good...

Maybe things would go right this time...

Maybe.

Maybe not.

At the end of that day, Ivar and Iliana settled at the small cabin after placing the horse at the stable and closing the smithy. Ivar was tired and dirty, sweaty and stinky. And tired. Fuck, Ivar was tired.

He threw himself at the improvised couch made of furs and wood at the living room and sighed, pulling his legs up and laying there, still.

His body was aching like never in many years. Even his arms were bothering him this time.

Iliana didn't let that sore sigh in his lips pass unnoticed. Instead of just sitting down, her skilled hands started working - he worked all day. Now it was her turn. She looked around: the house had everything a couple would need and she thanked the gods for this, placing a pan on the fire and filling it with some water. From her bag, she took some of the herbs Ivar and she had bought for his pains and spread it over the water, leaving it to boil as she started filling the basin, washing it first to get rid of the dust and then starting to bring buckets from the well outside the cabin to fill the thing.

When everything was ready, she poured the boiling water into the basin making everything warm. And then she went back to the couch, touching Ivar's sleeping face: he was snoring already, but at her first touch, Ivar opened his eyes.

"Come... I drew you a bath," Iliana said and Ivar got up looking at the basin, full and smelling good.

His eyes went curious to her. What was she doing behaving like that? Those things weren't the tasks of a wife?

Ivar touched the water noticing it was perfectly warmed. And the herbs were floating all over the basin. A relaxing bath that would care for his sore body... Ivar smiled.

"It was..." he started.

But she touched his shoulders.

"You did it for me, and I know it, Ivar. You found a way to stop what was making me feel bothered. Consider this just a way to thank you for your kindness." She said, causing him to look at her with curiosity and a soft smile in his face.

Slowly, he took off his clothes, but when the time for the trousers came, she got his insecurity.

"You don't need to be afraid. I saw a cripple before. I know how it is," she said, smiling gently.

"You have no idea... They... They're ugly... and twisted... and... Strange, inhuman. I hate them. I..."

Ivar's voice stopped when Iliana's cotton dress went straight to the ground. She had untied it while he was speaking and now there she was, fully naked in front of his eyes - surprised blues that ran her body completely taken aback by the image they were seeing.

She was gorgeous, of course, but her body was entirely marked, covered in the most variate and random kinds of scars. Whips, blades, claws, Ivar could draw in his mind every single wound she faced to have her body covered like that and his fingers went forward, touching her belly, noticing there were some scars of perforation near her lower belly.

"A mistress... Became furious because she thought I was carrying her husband's child..." She mumbled.

His fingers went up, touching a scar of claws in her waist.

"A pack of wolves... I had to fight them to survive that night..." She answered the mute question in his open lips.

His hand went a little up, touching a bunch of five scars surely made by a blade in her skin. Clean cuts, but swollen scars. She was cut many times in the same place...

"Mistress Olma. And master Askord..." she mumbled, looking at Ivar. "Fate wasn't fair to both of us, Ivar. I'm marked by the gods as you are. The difference is that you were born with your scars. I earned mine through the time of my life. It's not different in the end... They tell our story."

Ivar's eyes stopped into hers. And for the first time since they met each other, Iliana saw a boy inside of Ivar's eyes. A lost child that somehow found something inside her eyes that brought him out...

Ivar's hands weren't shaking when he undid the cordons of his trousers anymore. And slowly, he slid them out allowing her to see his nakedness as much as he was seeing hers.

She looked at him and Ivar didn't see disgust... Nor pity in her eyes. Instead, she lowered down, touching his skin with the same delicateness he touched her skin before, feeling the twists in his bony legs, seeing the marks and the scars. But there wasn't a single drop of compassion in her eyes when she looked at him. What Ivar saw... Was admiration...

"You're so strong, Ivar... Many men wouldn't have faced this with such will. Many boys would have died before becoming men. You're strong... Very strong."

No one has ever told anything like this to him before, and Ivar felt something in his heart towards that woman.

"Come and bath with me," he invited. And Iliana didn't regret accepting his invitation and laying into the water with him. She nestled her body to his chest, laying her head on his shoulder as he slowly brought the water over her shoulder, wetting her slowly, enjoying the pleasure and relief of the bath she had drawn for them.

Ivar's mind wasn't floating around anymore. He knew many things had to be done yet before he could have his crown back. But one thing was certain in his mind...

That whenever he had his crown back, he would make Iliana his queen.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x OC #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #T&T

[amazingsphelon]

Hello for today’s UPDATE! 08/31/2020

I have finished another 4 of my OC Gijinkas on a different posture

========================================================

Link of the original previous post:

Gijinka Pokemon 1st 4 Update

Gijinka WIP Update:

Gijinka Sketches (1st Post)

Gijinka Previous POST (2nd Post)

————————————————-

Hello for today’s UPDATE! 08/31/2020

I have finished another 4 of my OC Gijinkas on a different posture

========================================================

Link of the original previous post:

Gijinka Pokemon 1st 4 Update

Gijinka WIP Update:

Gijinka Sketches (1st Post)

————————————————-

From Top to Bottom:

Sigmund the Salamence. Hanzo Hatoori the Ninjaslk,

Blare the Blaziken, Aedris the Aggron, Aeshi the Gardevoir and Melody the Milotic.

Also You can check out their profile, bio and storylines overhere including a few early sketches per each character:

============================================================= Sir Sigmund - The Brave and Noble Knight Salamence =============================================================

================================================

Sigmund- The Salamence** Prince Sigmund later on

Age: 21

———————————–

Attacks:

Dragon Breath, Dragon Claw, Draco Meteor, Dragon Rage

Human Fighting Style:

Medieval Knight + Zweihander

Origin Similarities: Europe

Likes: Melody whom he nourishes love a lot and her very compassionate

side. Blare and Hanzo, whom he likes to relate with a lot of things.

Dislikes: Being defeated by Melody on certain circumstances (even

Battles), being flirted, his old past life and some of his bitter

colleagues, whom he also face resistance with.

================================================

Sir Sigmund, The Lone Wandering Salamence Knight, travelling around the region in search for a redeeming purpose of his kingdom’s whereabouts while facing his own misunderstood transgressions that had deem to ostracize him by his own peers in the pasts.

Luckily for the lone knight, he’s travelling with Melody, Blare and the Gang in which he enjoys their company alot.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/629228006967279616/09142020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode?is_highlighted_post=1

============================================================= Hanzo Hatoori - The Fierceful Ninja Ninjask =============================================================

============================================

Hanzo- The Ninjask** based on Hanzo Hatoori

Age: 27 **he looks younger though abit

———————————–

Attacks: **He has a Katana Blade that allows him to cast more movesets

outside the Ninjask moveset line.

X-Scissor, Fury Cutter, Slash, Secret Power (fire base)

Human Fighting Style:

Ninjitsu + Iga -Ryu

Origin Similarities: Japan

Likes: His master (A humanize Shedinja), His clan, novelty and his status and staying often hidden in the shadows unrevealed for his anonymity.

Dislikes: **To be Written Soon. nothing much is particularly known even

though with friends around him (especially the 7 closest friends he got

outside his clan, and perhaps their might be more…!) Though Aeshi and

Sigmund might have appear to know more about his secrets.

============================================

Hanzo Hatoori - The Mysterious Ninja of one of the famous insect clan of Ninjas. He’s on a mission to most likely bring balance to their whole region. And living in the shadows, while joining Blare and company, even his closest friends couldn’t decipher his true identity nor his secrets to the people around him.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/630321940042760192/09142020hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

============================================================= Miashe Blare - The The Fiery Fighter Blaziken =============================================================

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

Miashe Blare - The Blaziken **just completely Blare

Age: 17

———————————–

Attacks: Has a gold gauntlet that allows her to cast additional moves.

Blaze Kick, Double Kick, Mirror Move,Sky Uppercut, Fire Blast

Human Fighting Style:

Pankration + Muay Thai

Origin Similarities: Greek + Asia (Japanese)

Likes: Tough Battles, Battling against Water Practitioners, Adventures

Dislikes: Being called a Tomboy

================================================ Miashe Blare is an martial arts adventurer, travelling with her companions Aedris and Aeshi in search for treasures and loots galore. Her dreams was to participate on the famous tournament to be one day be among the stars of the fame, searching for stronger opponents and the curse of the "Mythical Birth Fragment" marks surrounding it's bizarre power and mystery.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/625837829585600512/08072020-greetings-today-guys-for-todays?is_highlighted_post=1

=============================================================  Aedris Stonebreaker - The Vigorous Adventurer Aggron =============================================================

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

Aedris - The Aggron** Aedris Stonebreaker

Age: 21-24

———————————–

Attacks: **Has a mace that allows him to cast more moves

Strength, Metal Claw, Iron Tail, Double Edge, Brick Break, Earthquake

Human Fighting Style:

Medieval Knight + Giant Mace

Origin Similarities: Underground Hierarchic (European)

Likes: Sexy, Cute , Pretty and Beautiful Women (He has a thing for Blare and Melody though), Adventures, Treasures

Dislikes: ***to be written more soon….             The only thing he abhors in life according to Blare and Aeshi’s talks…is actually fairy tail stories.

================================================

Aedris Stonebreaker, an adventurer, blacksmith and knight prodigy who stumbles upon Blare in search for treasures and loots galore. While he doesn't have any good dreams in particular for now, All he ever wished was to become rich, living with extravagant loots and riches for a luxury. and being the muscle of the group,and being the hyperactive and a hot-headed warrior he is, he often gets himself into trouble more often whenever he has a rough way of saying things as well as his eye for beautiful women (sparing the appearance of his attractive friends though Blare, Aeshi and Melody)

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/625839598748254208/08072020-greetings-today-guys-for-todays?is_highlighted_post=1

=============================================================Aeshi the Magician - The Marvelous Maiden Gardevoir =============================================================

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

Aeshi - The Gardevoir **Also known as “Aeshi the Magician” **last name I haven't decided yet

Age: 16

———————————–

Attacks: She has a greaves that allows her more additional moves

Magical Leaf, Calm Mind, Future Sight, Psychic, Recover

Human Fighting Style:

Yoga + Telekinesis + Wing Chun + Other Chinese Martial Arts

Origin Similarities: Chinese with European Blood

Likes: Her trusted friends especially Melody and highly on Blare** (I’ll expand this soon), Mysteries, Books, archaeological artifacts especially the magical ones,  Doing palm readings and fortune telling, Mythology, nature and the spiritual realm.

Dislikes: Her said parents……and boredom (secretly).

================================================

A prodigy of a family who practices divine mystical traditions, she ran away from her mother and father due to their constant arguments tear her beloved family apart and how being idealistic the two where on polarizing directions suppressing her life to love what she enjoys most. She joins Blare and Aedris in perhaps for a search for her family heritage and her grandparent's remains somewhere in their region so she could one day to have her family to make amends.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/627954895556935680/08072020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

=============================================================  Princess Melody - The Harmonic Sea Majestic Princess/Priestess Milotic =============================================================

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

Melody - The Milotic **Also known as Princess Melody and has a Kingdom

somewhere **similar to Asia and Island Regions

Age: 19

———————————–

Attacks: She has a wand which she can perform additional movesets and also enhances her water power skills entirely and she prefers more on kicking btw.

Ice Beam/Water Pulse, Surf, Blizzard, Hydro Pump, Recover, Aqua Ring, Aqua Tail (Kick)**Her most powerful skill

Human Fighting Style:

Water Magic **(similar to Azura from Fire Emblem) + Polynesian Taekwondo

Origin Similarities: Polynesian, Asia and Unspecified European Region *perhaps celtic??

Likes: Sigmund her Lover (Salamence), The two trainers who went on her adventures (I’ll introduce them soon, their base on Ruby and Sapphire though) Peace and Serenity, Harmony and Beautiful thoughts, her beauty (which she’s honestly and modestly proud of), Magical massages and salons, her proud vigorous and strong graceful legs which she use for kicking especially and Ocean Life.

Dislikes: Chaos, Insincere People, Her strict father King Raidos (Gyarados)**she still loves her father despite his strict personality, Lightning and Electric Base attacks, Her powerful gifted and strong but yet cursed and fragile fragment mark.

================================================

A popular beautiful princess  heir from a monarch  kingdom from her father, King Rydus (Gyarados Gijinka) in a majestic land surrounded by the seas. Princess Melody is King Rydus's only daughter left, grieving in the sad lost of their beloved queen priestess (A Milotic and Melody's mother). With no one else to rule besides her father, she has set herself with courage to continue ruling their kingdom on behalf of her beloved mother and the kingdom's hard working ordinance to settle peace through out the lands and for the love of her people. Luckily for the ironic princess, she easily make anyone friends around her compare to the complexity of her father issues. She sets on an important goal to two of her beloved friends Raid and Naya (who were not locals in their kingdom but unwordly young foreigners) to spread peace and love throughout the land, to solve the curse of their region saving everyone and have them return to their own worlds.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/627962232443191296/08312020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

=======================================

That sums up everything for my OC Gijinkas folks I’ll posting something else after this one.

#Gijinka #gijinka pokemon #Fanart #fanart friday #anime sketches #pokemon fanart #anime #sketches #human pokemon #Character Design #wip #pocketmonsters #digitalart #fantasy character #medievalart #daily tumblr #artists on tumblr #pokemon #blaziken #aggron #gardevoir #milotic #Salamence #milotic x salamence #Ninjask #shedinja #gijinka gardevoir #gijinka milotic

[annaizscribbling]

First post on this site wow This was inspired by a dream i had

I gazed out my open window, deep in thought; my elbows resting on the windowsill. The long, rather extraneous sleeves of my nightgown flowed gently with the breeze, delicately brushing up against my waist. I closed my eyes, indulging in my last moments of certainty before it all turned on its head. Carefully, I traced my finger along the edge of my open window’s glass, spotless, without a speck of dust. Perfect.

Just as I was expected to be today.

My father believed in me with every fiber of his being, he had told me so himself. I am not nearly as confident in my abilities, but having his support warms me in some way, even if it makes the pressure that much more intense. Each conversation seems to be peppered with how great of a queen I will be in his stead.  Convinced I will win. He remained neutral when asked by the kingdom of course. Picking a favorite contender would make my task twice as dangerous, no matter how obvious it was that Father wanted me to succeed. I don’t need an even bigger target painted on my back.

For both of our sakes, I want to win.

My mind wandered to my mother, how she would respond if she were here? Would she be as trusting in my abilities as Father is? Would she just accept that whatever happens simply happens?

Well, it doesn’t really matter how she would react. I cannot exactly ask her.

A hovercraft descended gracefully onto the ground far beyond my window, I watched the distant figures emerge and go about their business. I had always loved where my window was set, just close enough that I could watch people do life. I am not sure what I would do with my free time if I did not have my window, observing others go from place to place calmed me. They were like ants from this point, tiny specks, all with lives and struggles of their own. Just like me. Well, not exactly like me, they didn’t have the future of this kingdom riding on their back.

Smoke puffed from the blacksmith; one of the closest establishments to the castle. Speaking of which, I really should pick up my new rod. As per custom I am receiving a new one, a stronger one, a heavier one. Which means I should practice with how it handles and how quick I can move with it. Which means I really should get dressed and face the world, but that meant facing reality and leaving my bedroom. And really, why would I want to do that?

I dreaded Father’s lighthearted encouragement and the excited jokes he’s bound to make. The thought of speaking to him turned my stomach. He does not take my nerves seriously, after all. Apparently, his own battle years ago was effortless, surely it must’ve been. How could he not recognize my panic if he went through the exact thing? Is he that strong and steady? Even then? Can he not tell by how quiet I’ve been that I’m frightened? Does he care that I’m cracking under the pressure of maintaining our legacy?

I closed the window with a sudden bang. Hesitating before double tapping the glass with my index finger, it turned black. No longer would I gaze out the window and ponder my feelings, it’s time to ready myself for the day.

After dressing in something simple, fixing my hair with minimal effort and donning a cloak, I headed out my door. An air of finality followed in my wake. Today everything changed, for better or for worse. Mere hours from now I will enter the arena and hours later emerge, either as the new queen, or as a banished princess sent to live out her days with the knowledge that her father suffers by her failure.

I shuddered and trudged on.

#writing #story #fantasy #dream #short story #i dont know what im doing #writers #how do i use this site #princess #help #royal

[ewankoseyo]

something there || mark imagine

A/N: I actually had some things drafted up previously but I felt really inspired to write this. Also may have been watching Beauty and the Beast before writing this idk ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

“Hi love! I know you said you’ve been writing a lot of Mark imagines but is it okay if I request a fluffy prince Mark imagine? I just really miss and love Mark and your stories are so sweet and adorable! You can make it however you’d like! I’m just a sucker for prince Mark! Thank you! 🥰”

——

Prince Mark always dreamed about life outside of the palace gates.

He would sit at his balcony after a long day, sketching parts of what he could see pass the gates along the setting sky. With each sketch, he’d imagine up the stories of the possible people living in the little boxes across the distance. A family in that house could be bringing home a new baby. A man in the house right next to it maybe would scold kids for picking fruits from his tree. A boy and a girl walking along the main path could be falling in love without even knowing it.

Love. Prince Mark knew of the familiar kind of love for the people closest to him, but he always wondered what it felt like to be in love. The closest feeling was probably some childhood crush on princesses from faraway lands, but they weren’t significant. Was love really like in all of the fairytales his caretaker would tell him before bedtime? Was it possible for him to just lock eyes with someone and for everything to feel like it was falling into place?

All Prince Mark knew was the palace. Though he was never lonely, with his siblings and his guards, who he sees as his (only) friends, keeping him company, the palace was beginning to feel suffocating. What was the outside world really like to the common people? Prince Mark feared he would never know, for the next day the palace would be holding a banquet where he would have to choose his bride. After tomorrow night, his dream of discovering love and the outside world would remain at that—just a dream.

Which was why Prince Mark was currently wearing one of the servant’s commoner clothes.

“Your Majesty, are you sure about this?” Jackson asked hesitantly as he led the prince down a secret passageway. “If His Royal Highness finds out about your little adventure...”

“He won’t,” Prince Mark interrupted with certainty. “We’ve got it all planned out. Jaebum and Jinyoung are guarding my room so that no one comes in because I’m ‘sick and just need to be left alone for the day to rest.’ Youngjae is making sure Bambam and Yugyeom are keeping my parents entertained.”

“If I knew they’d be better off as court jesters, I wouldn’t have let them into the royal guard,” Jackson joked.

Prince Mark smiled at his friend in the darkness as they continued to walk. “And I have my best man always ten feet away just in case things go awry. But don’t worry, it most likely will not be necessary. Need I remind you that you aren’t the only one who knows his way around a sword?”

“Not necessary, Your Majesty, you seem to remind me at every chance you get.” Jackson stopped in front of a giant wooden door with a heavy lock. They had been walking through the dark for over twenty minutes. Jackson reached into his robes and pulled out a key. “From this point on, you are not a prince, you are one of your people. Please don’t do anything rash, Your Majesty.”

Prince Mark chuckled at the guard’s worry. “It’s okay Jackson, if I get in trouble, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. You shouldn’t take the heat for my recklessness.”

Though it was dark, Prince Mark could see Jackson’s lips form a thin line as he unlocked the door. “I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you. It’s my job. No one knows what the prince looks like so don’t expect them to give you any special treatment. If something were to happen to you on my watch...” Jackson didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.

“Nothing will,” Prince Mark assured him. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my last and only day of freedom.” After Jackson got the door open, they found themselves in a forest.

“Watch your step, you might step into a—”

“Trap,” Prince Mark finished as they wove carefully through the trees. “I remember the stories.” As they continued walking, Prince Mark caught the most wonderful smell. Cinnamon? He followed the scent, excited by the prospect of what was to come. The two men ended up behind—

“This is the blacksmith’s shop,” Jackson explained. “I’ll be following you behind inconspicuously but we’ll reconvene back here after an hour. Remember Your Majesty—”

“Don’t do anything stupid, I know.” Prince Mark grinned at Jackson. “Thank you, friend.” Taking a deep breath, Prince Mark walked down the alleyway next to the blacksmith’s. You are not a prince, you are one of your people.

As he emerged from the alleyway, Prince Mark felt like he was seeing color for the first time.

He saw children laughing and chasing a pig across the way. Older women gossiped as they gathered water from the nearby well. Men in front of a shop boasted to one another about the game they’ve killed. The air was cloaked with the smell of...poop?

“Out of the way, boy! I’ve got a load of manure to transport!” He was met with a red-faced man huffing as he pulled along a heavy wheelbarrow of manure. Prince Mark stood frozen in the middle of the busy street. “Don’t just stand there, you’re in everyone’s way!”

Prince Mark could only let out a dazed “sorry” as he moved out of the way. It seemed that if he was going to blend in with his people he would have to keep up with their pace. He followed the flow of bodies gathering around the village square. Some street performers were acting out a play. Prince Mark laughed and cheered with the audience at the performers’ wild antics, he had never felt so alive. He made a mental note to somehow get his servants to hire them to perform at the palace sometime. He swore one of them had made an appearance at a palace banquet before. The crowd applauded as the play came to an end.

“Thank you, thank you, don’t forget to donate whatever you can so we can continue to do these little shows!” One of the performers announced as another held out his cap to the audience for collections.

Prince Mark walked up to the performer who spoke. “Very good job! That was the hardest I’ve laughed in a while.”

“Thank you...” The performer’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at Prince Mark. “...Sir. Say, you look very familiar, have we met before?”

Prince Mark pulled down the straw hat he was wearing lower to hide his face. “You must be mistaken, sir, I rarely leave my house. I might just have one of those faces. Now if you excuse me, I must get to the...” His eyes wandered to the nearest building. “Bakery. Good job again!”

He left the confused performer in his spot, realizing the source of the cinnamon scent from earlier as he walked closer to the bakery. The scent seemed to smack him in the face as he walked in and he was engulfed in the bakery’s comforting warmth. Prince Mark was instantly captivated by the beautifully bright and colorful cakes and pastries displayed on the shelves. Like the few customers standing around, he looked at the shelves, silently deciding what he would treat himself to. A momento of today.

And then he spotted you.

His eyes had scanned over a shelf of breads when they landed on you, coming out of what seemed to be the kitchen. Your hair was up in a braided crown, similar to the designs on some of the bread he saw. He was mesmerized as you wiped the dusts of flour from your face with one hand and put down a fresh pan of cookies with the other.

In his head, the prince swore you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

“What can I get for you, sir?” You beamed at him as you wiped your hands clean on your apron. Prince Mark hadn’t realized he’d walked up to the counter as he stared at you. Even your voice was beautiful, as clear and as bright as the promising day itself.

He had given countless speeches and attended meetings with many older rulers from neighboring kingdoms in his father’s stead before (part of his education as the heir to the throne) but this was the first time the young prince could remember feeling tongue-tied.

“A sweet roll and a coffee, please.” It has almost come out as a whisper. Prince Mark cleared his throat. “And maybe one of those cookies.”

As your smile grew wider, the prince began to feel a swelling sensation in his chest. “Coming right up!” You scribbled down his order before turning to the next customer behind him. “And for you, ma’am?”

Though you were incredibly busy with the new customers that had come in, some of them snippier with how fast they wanted their order than need be, not once did your radiant smile leave your face. You handled every order with grace. Time seemed to stand still as Prince Mark watched you move skillfully like a dancer to and from the kitchen past other workers holding hot trays.

“The baguettes! Hurry up!” A voice called from the kitchen, and for once your smile faltered a little. “Can’t you move any faster?!”

You looked at the current customer you were with apologetically before rushing back to the kitchen. “Coming!”

He didn’t even know your name, but Prince Mark’s heart ached from seeing your slight (blink and you’ll miss it) crestfallen expression.

“Here you go, sir. Sweet roll, coffee, and a cookie.” You has reappeared before him with his items in hand. Prince Mark glanced at the counter behind you and noticed the fresh tray of baguettes you had taken out. You looked slightly frazzled from the short trip to the kitchen, but still made the effort to keep a smile on your face. “Be careful with the coffee though, it’s still a little bit—”

“Hot!” Startled by the heat radiating from the cup, Prince Mark let it slip throw his fingers when you handed it to him. The busied chatter in the bakery was instantly hushed by the cup shattering on the floor.

“Hey, what was that out there?!”

“N-nothing! I’ll clean it up!” Prince Mark looked up to see the your smile completely replaced with a worried expression. You wipe up the mess as one of the other workers swept up the broken pieces. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get you a new coffee right away.”

The prince grabbed your arm before you could go back to the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay.”

You put your head down in shame. “Let me give you your money back then.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, giving you an understanding smile, willing yours to reappear once more. Before you could say anything, Prince Mark heard a familiar cough behind him. He glanced behind him to see Jackson standing near the doorway, pretending to look at some cakes. The prince hadn’t realized that his hour of freedom was almost over. “Thank you for the food, have a nice day!”

As he left the bakery (and with how busy it had gotten, it took him a bit to get out of there,) he noticed you standing out on the side of building with an older man. He was big, horizontally and vertically, and was in the middle of whispering angrily at you. Prince Mark couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was clearly distressing you. Your back was against the building and your head hung down shamefully like it did earlier. He had the urge to intervene after noticing you wipe away some tears when he felt someone brush passed him.

“Keep moving,” Jackson ordered. Looking at your situation sadly, the prince left, the regret of not seeing you off with a smile weighing down his footsteps.

“Jackson,” Prince Mark said gleefully as they made their way back through the forest. “Who was that?”

“I take it you had fun on your excursion, Your Majesty?” The guard smirked. “I don’t know, I’m always stuck in the palace watching you. She’s just a worker at the bakery...” It finally dawned on Jackson when he noticed the prince’s smitten expression. “No, Your Majesty, you can’t,” Jackson ordered grimly. “You’re supposed to be picking your bride tomorrow.”

“I’m next in line for the throne, I’m sure we can work our way around this stupid rule,” Prince Mark replied easily. “You don’t understand, Jackson, when I saw her face, the world seemed to stop moving. It was as if fate brought me here today to tell me that she was—”

“The one?” Jackson interrupted as he moved a branch out of the prince’s way. “You don’t even know her name. Your Majesty, with all due respect, this isn’t one of the fairytales the maids told you as a child. I say this not as your guard but as your friend,” Jackson stopped walking and looked at Prince Mark with a sad smile. “She’s just a commoner. You’re the Crowned Prince. When the time comes, you will be the one leading this kingdom. You’re supposed to be with someone in your class, otherwise people will talk.”

“Let them,” Prince Mark said spitefully, continuing to walk. “The people will always find something new to talk about.”

Jackson stopped him before he could keep moving. “I know it’s not ideal, but that’s just the way things are and we have no choice but to accept it. You’re choosing your bride tomorrow and that’s that.” He gave the prince a gentle pat before leading the way. “Besides, only the fairest of maidens are set to be attending the banquet tomorrow. You can’t seriously be in love with that baker girl? You only saw her for a second and she made a mess back there. Your Majesty, there’s no such thing as love at first sight, it’s so silly...”

Prince Mark remained quiet all the way back to the castle as Jackson went on about the different princesses who were invited to the banquet. As he reminded himself of Jackson’s words, all he could think about was your faltering smile. Maybe that man yelling at you earlier always gave you a hard time, but you tried to remain strong and kept up a happy front despite of it?

The prince didn’t know your name or anything about you, but he knew he would have given up the crown at that moment just to have seen you smile again. Perhaps it wasn’t love at first sight, but Prince Mark couldn’t deny that there was definitely something there.

——

Prince Mark was never one for parties. Although he was surrounded by a bunch of people, he still couldn’t help but feel so lonely. He barely knew a face in the room. He wasn’t in the mood to talk deals and peace treaties with other leaders under the guise of a friendly toast. He couldn’t even have fun with his friends, who were scattered around the banquet hall making sure nothing was amiss. And the prince definitely had no intention of asking any of the princesses to dance. It was no secret that they only wanted to be chosen as his bride to increase their families’ wealth and power. How could he even think of dancing with anyone else when every thought kept coming back to—

You.

Was he seeing things? Did he have a little too much wine to drink?

You stood next to a table displaying three beautifully decorated cakes, kindly offering a slice to anyone who came up to you. You beamed as you handed a minister from the neighboring kingdom a plate and Prince Mark felt the swelling sensation in his chest yet again.

This was definitely a sign. He never thought he would see you ever again, but seeing you here tonight, Prince Mark knew fate was telling him to do something about it.

“Don’t do it.” Jackson had practically watched the prince’s entire thought process and stopped him before he could thoughtlessly march over to you. “We knew we had to keep a closer eye on you when we found out she was here so you didn’t do anything hasty.”

Prince Mark looked around and noticed his friends standing along the perimeter of the room, all staring at him. “But what is she—”

“The village bakery made the desserts for the banquet. The owner is actually right there talking to His Royal Highness.” They turned to see the older man you were with yesterday speaking jovially with the king. Prince Mark began to feel his blood boil. Quickly noticing this, Jackson gently held him back. “Sir, you’re the star of the show tonight. You can’t be picking fights with commoners who you’re not supposed to know of. Did you forget the purpose of this banquet?”

“It’s not like I haven’t been reminded every time I’ve voiced an honest opinion,” Prince Mark replied, shrugging off the guard’s hold. “Jackson, I’ve become a prisoner in my own palace. I’m supposed to be finding my wife tonight and for what? Just so we can waste money throwing another party? As my guards, you’re supposed to do as I say, and as my friends, you’re supposed to support my decisions even though you may not understand. I know you are all looking out for me, but you need to trust me.” He gave Jackson a solemn look. “I’m gonna talk to her, and this time, none of you can stop me.”

Jackson shook his head at the other guards when they saw that the prince was continuing to walk in your direction, silently ordering them to leave him be. What did his friend mean he didn’t understand? What was there to understand? No, the prince needed to understand that love was only a thing of fairytales. You don’t just lock eyes with someone and magically fall—

“Oh!” Jackson looked down to see what seemed to be one of the princesses collapsed at his feet.

“Are you okay?” He knelt down to help the girl back up to her feet.

“Yeah, I think these shoes might just be a little too high for me.” The princess giggled at her mishap and Jackson immediately felt a strange sensation in his chest. “Thank you for helping me up...”

“I-it’s Jackson.” Realizing he was still holding her, Jackson quickly let go.

“Well, Jackson, it was a pleasure bumping into you. Literally.” With another delighted giggle, the princess left the guard in his place. As he continued to watch the princess go about the party, Jackson felt as he finally understood.

“Would you like a—oh! Your Majesty!” You were cutting up the second cake when you noticed someone next to you. You quickly bowed when you realized it was Prince Mark. “Please forgive my informality. Would you like some cake?”

Prince Mark held up a hand. “No, it’s okay. I actually came here to talk to you...again.” He lowered his voice as one of his father’s ministers passed by.

“I didn’t realize you were the prince, had I known it was you—”

“You would have treated me like everyone else, as you should.”

You grinned at him in amusement. “But I still would have dropped that cup.”

He let out a chuckle. “It was entirely my fault, you warned me it was hot.” Seeing you finally relax a bit and smiling at him, Prince Mark felt like he was with the gods. “I hope you weren’t given too much of a hard time yesterday because of me.”

You followed where his eyes seemed to wander. “That’s my stepfather,” you confirmed. The older man in question was still rubbing elbows with the king. It was a wonder to you how he hadn’t been dragged off yet. “He owns the bakery.”

“Stepfather?”

“He married my mother when my father passed away, but my mother passed away a few years ago. So now it’s just the two of us and I help in the bakery,” you explained simply, as if you were describing the weather.

Prince Mark gave you a sympathetic look. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear—”

You shook your head and smiled at him once again. “No, nothing for you to be sorry about. That’s just how life is, I guess.”

Just as Prince Mark imagined, you seemed to smile through the hardship. “Does your stepfather...is he always like that with you?”

“Oh, you saw that?” You pursed your lips nervously as you looked down again. “It’s nothing, I’m used to it. I shouldn’t have been messing up so much. But I really do love the bakery, don’t get me wrong.”

Without warning, the prince took your free hand in his. His touch was warm. You looked up only to be met with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. They held a sadness that was not out of pity for those below him, but out of anger towards injustice against his people. He truly was the heir to the throne.

“‘I’m used to it’ is one of the worst phrases anyone can say about themselves. You shouldn’t have to be used to being verbally abused like that. Even if it was because you were performing poorly, which I didn’t think you were, it’s the boss’s job to teach his workers right.” Prince Mark gave your hand a gentle squeeze before smiling benevolently. “I’m sorry you’re being treated in a way no human ever should. It’s the kingdom’s duty to make its people happy, and at least for tonight, I hope to make you happy too.”

You grinned bashfully at the prince before averting your attention to the ground once more. “Well, you’ve already exceeded my expectations of what I thought the prince would be like and that makes me pretty happy.”

“Oh?” Prince Mark quirked an eyebrow playfully and smirked. “And what were your expectations of me exactly?”

Before you could answer, one of the servants had sidled up next to Prince Mark. “Your Majesty, you must start dancing with our guests. You need to choose a bride by the end of the night.”

“Of course, you aren’t the first one to tell me that tonight,” Prince Mark replied mockingly. You held back a laugh as he subtly rolled his eyes towards you. “Well, my good lady, royal duty calls. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”

“And you, Your Majesty.” Taking your hand once again, he left a chaste kiss on the back before heading off to the dance floor. The skin where his lips had touched felt like it was on fire, but unlike the prince, you found yourself not minding the heat.

You watched the young prince go from maiden to maiden, a small polite smile gracing his lips as he asked them to dance. You imagined yourself in their position and sighed. It had been a dream of yours when you were a child for some dashing prince to come and sweep you off your feet—how it would feel like to have him twirl you around the room and treat you like a lady.

My good lady, the prince had called you.

When Prince Mark held and kissed your hand, you allowed yourself to be someone else. After tonight, that childhood dream of yours would remain at that. His words echoed in your head.

“At least for tonight, I hope to make you happy too.”

“It’s now time for His Majesty to choose his new bride!”

You didn’t know where your stepfather had wandered off to, probably making good use of the wine fountain. You busied yourself with packing away some of the bakery supplies. You couldn’t bring yourself to join everyone in watching the main event. It was probably silly, but you felt a spark when the prince had touched you and a part of you hoped that he had felt it too. But alas, this was not some fairytale like your mother used to tell you. Feeling a spark with someone you barely knew was unrealistic.

Princes always went for princesses, and you were but a commoner who worked in the village bakery. That was your reality.

“Her?! Why her?!

You hadn’t noticed that the music stopped playing and the party had gotten almost completely silent. There was a hand extended out to you.

“Would like to dance?” Prince Mark grinned unabashedly, awaiting your response. You looked around frantically. In every direction, you caught a new pair of eyes glaring at you as if you had an extra head.

“Your Majesty, you can’t marry her!” The servant from earlier protested. “She’s a commoner! An orphan too!” You could hear bits and pieces of the chatter around you, each word nastier than the one before.

“She’s not even that pretty!”

“Her hands are all wrinkled from working.”

“She has nothing, what can she even offer him?”

“Silence!” Prince Mark ordered, instantly hushing the banquet hall. “The royal mandate only states that I must choose a bride from the banquet, it does not say anything about who I can’t choose. I choose her, and if any of you have anything to say about it, I challenge you to talk about it with me personally.” There was an edge in his voice that you originally imagined the prince to have. Still shocked by his words and actions, you could only stare at his hand.

Jackson cleared his throat to break the silence. “You heard His Majesty. Make some room so he may dance with his new bride,” the guard demanded as he began to push some people back from crowding around you. Youngjae, standing near the band, ordered them to keep playing while the rest of the guards made sure the guests kept their distance from you. Dismissing your confused expression, Prince Mark took you by the hand to the dance floor and began to lead you in a waltz.

“Your Majesty...”

“My good lady?”

You blushed at the title, averting your attention to your feet movement instead. Prince Mark chuckled at your behavior. “Sir, you must be mistaken. I am no lady. I shouldn’t even be enjoying this banquet, I’m supposed to be working—”

“And I promised to make you happy tonight.” He twirled you around. “Forgive me if I’m being hasty, but I felt something when I saw you for the first time yesterday and it’s as if fate brought you back here tonight for this very reason. I fell for you as soon as I laid eyes on your smile—it’s a question I would like to spend the rest of my life answering.”

Your face grew even hotter at the prince’s words. You never imagined the prince to be such a romantic. As you said earlier, Prince Mark completely exceeded your expectations. His kindness and the sincerity in his face, which you now realized was only inches away from yours, caused a swelling sensation in your chest.

“Sir, I don’t know what to say...”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Prince Mark replied, placing another kiss on the back of your hand. “I’m not forcing you to marry me. But I figured I’d tell you exactly how I felt, it’s something I’ve never gotten the chance to do before.”

“Tell me how you felt?”

“Tell anyone exactly how I felt.”

It dawned on you. Perhaps your life wasn’t completely different from the prince’s. You were watched over like a hawk by your stepfather. He was a prisoner in his own castle. You both dreamed of a life outside of the ones you were living now. You remembered the old fairytales as you stared back at Prince Mark. Handsome Prince Mark, who seemed to hold the whole future in his kind eyes and whose smile effortlessly brought one to your lips. A dashing prince sweeping you off your feet.

“Yes,” you finally answered, grinning at him wholeheartedly. “Yes I will marry you.”

A smitten look in his eyes as he stared back at you, Prince Mark brought you even closer to him, ignoring the scrutinizing stares all around you. You were surprised to find that his heart was beating just as rapidly as yours. As you two danced the night away, you tried to find the right words to describe the feeling in your chest. Melting into the prince’s warm touch, you decided not to think too much about it, silently labeling the feeling for now as just “something there.”

——

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #mark tuan #im jaebum #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #got7 oneshots #kpop fics

[thestarwrites]

City of God (Finan x OC)

Fic Summary: Finan the Agile meets a Celt-Saxon woman, and for once he can’t think of anything else

Part One

Rating: PG

Please don’t plagiarize!

Also I wanted to share this with some other Finan fans I’ve noticed!

@nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @medievalfangirl

word count: 1,950

Wintecester. City of God. City of Alfred. The big beating heart of Wessex, the west Saxon kingdom. She had never seen anything so big- not since she’d left Ireland, anyhow. Her mother was Irish, father was a West Saxon, and the two women had been living in East Anglia while her father traveled for work. That was until it became unsafe. Her father had found work with the King, and so here she was, Kelly of the Celts— now of Wessex. Daughter of the Royal blacksmith; named Urlworth, and his Irish love Brienne, now united under one roof. The King’s roof.

The first few weeks Kelly was in Wintecester, she had attended church regularly, met with some of the priests who were interested in the stranger, interested in if she was betrothed- though she was considered old to not yet be married. Her hair still hung down; a maiden’s hairstyle. But it was clear to all that she was more a Celt than a Saxon, she knew strange ways. She knew a bit of sword-art, she knew a bit about blacksmithing from her father. And she was educated, like a noble Lady; for apparently, her mother was a of fine breeding.

Father Beocca took a liking to the girl right away. She loved learning and she loved God. Two things they had in common. Beocca’s beautiful young wife Thyra was quickly one of Kelly’s closest friends.

She had met the Lord Uhtred, Tyra’s adoptive brother, as well as the Abbess Hild. Thyra had told her of the Earl Ragnar in Dunholm, her older blood brother. However she had never met any of Uhtred’s oath-men, though she had seen them from afar, well, seen one from afar. The handsome one, Finan was his name she was told. He was the one she’d caught looking at her, the one who even more embarrassingly had caught her looking at him. Her made her insides squirm when she met those mischievous brown eyes.

The first time they met, she was walking home from visiting with Thyra. She ran into Uhtred and two of his Oath-men, Shitric and Finan, headed into the Two-Cranes alehouse. Along with its ale it was known for its… services. She knew as a recently and very happily married man, Uhtred would only be drinking ale. The others? Well, she felt a sting of jealousy at the prospect of Finan bedding some whore- though they had never spoken, though she had no rights to be jealous.

“Hello, Lord Uhtred.” She smiled gently.

He grinned, “Hello!” He bowed his head and hugged her as they approached one another. Turning he motioned, “Kelly, these are some of my men— Sitric, and Finan.”

Shitric smiled brightly, “Hello, pleasure to meet you at last, Miss.”

“At last?” She smiled a bit bashfully.

“Thyra talks of almost nothing else besides her new best friend.” Uhtred explains with a smile.

Kelly turns her gaze to the Irishman, whose warm brown eyes were looking right through her. She swallowed and became lost there with him. As Shitric and Uhtred exchanged a playful glance, they disappeared into the Two Cranes without Finan noticing. After a long few moments, Finan extends his hand to her, “Lady.”

Taking it she blushed and smiled a little, “Pleasure to meet you, Finan.”

“Tha pleasure’s mine, my Lady.” He said softly as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His beard was coarse, and he smelled of leather and sweat. He was even more intoxicating up close than he was across streets or in the market, “Yer even prettier in up close, lady.”

Kelly still had her hand in his, “Oh, uhm, thank you— um, Please— please, call me Kelly.” She was nervous under his gaze.

“As you wish.” He grinned. Suddenly the sound of a shattering ale pot pulled them from their thoughts, “Oh I, I better let ye git on home, I don’ want ta keep ye.” He said kissing her knuckles once more, “Goodnight, Kelly.”

She finally was released from his hand, “Goodnight, Finan.” She smile politely and continued down the street. Once out of eyesight, she started hurrying home. Her chest was on fire, and she was trembling. No one had ever kissed her hand in such a tender way.

That very next morning, Kelly walked into they Abbey to pray, only to find Finan already kneeling in prayer, cross in hand. She didn’t want to disturb him— and mostly she didn’t want him thinking she was following him. Taking a step backward toward the door, she bumped into one of the simple wooden pews. His head snapped up and he turned at the noise- breaking into a small smile as he saw her. They were alone in this chapel, turning back he crossed himself and stood, “Come ta pray, Lady?”

Swallowing, she wet her lips, his eyes followed her, “Yes.” She said meekly. He sauntered over to her, the swagger he had was unlike any man she’d ever encountered. She’d met a score of Irish men, and Saxon men, some who tried to woo her, and they never radiated the bravado he did. He smiled sweetly, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles once again, “I’ll leave you to yer peace, then.”

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding she stared into his eyes. Finan smiled wider as his other hand gently cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it. He had actually just prayed for her to be more present in his life- and he was in awe, God had worked his will so fast. He almost thought he might be dreaming, could she ever think of him the way he thought of her? “Sorry, Lady.” He smiled bashfully, bowing his head, “I shall leave you now,” He kissed the knuckles of her hand once more before slipping out of the Church, heading for Uhtred’s home.

Kelly cupped both of her cheeks as she tried to push away the sinful thoughts she was having in God’s house.

Hild walked into the Church and blinked, “Kelly? I thought only Finan was in here? Are you alright, girl? You’re red as a flame!”

“I-“ She stammered before shaking her head, “Nothing! I just came to pray—“

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Finan, would it?”

Her cheeks burned hotter, “He’s…”

“That bad, hm?”

“That nothing. I’m late for- uhm- my chores.” She turned and rushed out of the room.

Hild smirked. This would have to be brought to Uhtred’s attention.

They met again a week later in the market. Kelly carried a basket full of produce and salted meats, struggling a little through the crowd.

“Allow me, my lady.” The cool voice of the Irishman called out as he took the basket with ease out of her arms. She barely had time to react before he grinned, “Been thinkin’ about ye, lass.”

Looking at him she blinked, “You have?”

“Of course, yer beauty eludes me as the sun on a cloudy day, lady.”

Her cheeks flushed and she sighed softly, “Finan, how many times must I tell you, I am no Lady, I’m just Kelly.”

“Yer a Lady ta me, my angel.”

Swallowing she put her hand on the basket handle, “I can handle the basket,

Pulling it away he smirked, “On the contrary, I pride myself as a man of honor, and God forbid I don’t help a damsel with a heavy parcel.”

Blushing she sighed, crossing her arms as they walked, “What are you after, Irishman?”

"Must I be after something?” He asked innocently, “I can’t just be in want of your pleasant company, girl?” He smirked and looked at her.

“Likely story.” She chuckled softly.

He smirked and winked at her, to which she blushed and giggled. He felt on cloud nine, the way he presented himself was working, “I told ye, yer an angel and I am but a poor sinner in want of your company.”

Kelly giggled once more and sighed softly, “Honestly, Finan, what are you after.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and then decided better of it. He wanted to ask her on a proper date, maybe lunch by the riverside. And for all his prowess With women, there was something here he didn’t want to mess up. He had to say something, had to talk to her— “Nothin, girl.”

“Well here we are.” She took a deep breath and went to take the basket from him, “Thank you for your assistance, Finan, regardless of motive.” She smirked.

“Yer most welcome, my lady.” He stopped to once again kiss her knuckles.

Blushing she smiled and looked up at him, “Have a good evening, Irishman.” He nodded and winked at her once more, moving away to walk back to Uhtred’s townhouse.

“And where have you been?” Gisela asked with a smirk when she saw Finan enter the hall once more. Uhtred and Sitric looked up from their conversation, watching the Irishman intently, Sitric had a smirk on his face.

“Hello, Lady Gisela- uh- just helpin’ out a friend.” He said lamely.

“Would that friend happen to be a certain blacksmith’s daughter by any chance?” She asked with a knowing smirk, “Hild just came in, she said she saw you flirting with the young lass, carrying her basket for her, being an absolute gentleman.”

His ears reddened, “She’s a pretty girl what can I say?” He huffed gently.

“Yes, very pretty— also half Irish!” Sitric smirked, “I’d say our Irishman is very taken with her. They could have little Celt babies!”

“Shut it!” Finan shouted.

“Have you plans to take this young lady out? Hild has told me this is not the first time you have been seen flirting with her.” Gisela asked.

Finan frowned, “I might be t’inkin’ about it.”

“Have you asked Lord Uhtred for permission to marry?” Sitric quipped with a laugh.

His cheeks flushed, “I have no intention of takin a wife, ye nosy bastard.” He grunted back to Sitric. The Dane just laughed heartily, slapping his knee before

Uhtred rose to approach his friend, “I’m serious, Lord. She’s just a pretty girl, and I like pretty girls.” He stroked a nervous hand across his beard.

Sitric started laughing harder.

“Don’t ye have a whore to visit?!” Finan yelled, cheeks red.

Uhtred put a hand up, “Enough!” He turned back to his right hand, “Maybe ask this pretty girl to dinner? Only if in the interest of getting to see her longer.” Uhtred patted his friends back.

“Aye. Maybe I will.” He wet his lips, “Excuse me, lord, I’m goin ta go wash.”

While he walked away, Gisela looked to Uhtred with a knowing smile, “And just like that, Finan the Agile, the great lover of women, has met a woman to conquer his heart.”

“You think so, my love?” Uhtred cooed as he wrapped his arms about his woman, the woman he was finally reunited with, who he was able to hold and marry and love freely now.

“Yes, I know that look in a mans eye. I remember it when I saw you. Finan has never been one to traverse the markets, and every time you are not in need of him, off he goes to catch glimpses of her in the streets. Thyra has also been telling me that Kelly is smitten with him. She always reports when she catches his eyes, or when they meet in public and he gallantly kisses her knuckles upon every greeting.”

Sitric smirked, “Wait until I tell the boys.”

Uhtred laughed heartily, and Gisela just rolled her eyes, “You men are terrible.”

#finan #finan the agile #the last kingdom #finan x oc #last kingdom #fanfiction

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Headcanons | Prince!Todoroki x F!Reader who wants to be a knight!

❄️ Todoroki always saw you around the castle’s forge, helping your dad create new weapons and armor.

🔥 For someone so young, your craftsmanship was second to none.

❄️ Todoroki always got satisfaction wearing armor you created. It was always sturdy yet light and the perfect size for his body. He would easily trust the armor you made with his life.

🔥 So, he thought that your goal in life was best suited to becoming a blacksmith, just like everyone else.

❄️ Todoroki didn’t really question it until he was training with his teacher in the courtyard near the knights one day.

🔥Todoroki noticed that you’d always come out to watch the knights train, day or night, rain or shine.

❄️ He figured you wanted to see your armor and weapons at work, but on the fourth day he decided to question you about it.

“I want to be a knight. It’s always been a dream of mine!” you’d say while watching the training exercise.

“Are you sure that’s safe? Women don’t usually make good knights.”

🔥 Apparently, that was not the right thing to say. Literal crickets chirped through your conversation.

❄️ Please don’t be mad, this boy means well but he just doesn’t think everything through before he says it.

🔥 He had only meant it because he was worried you’d get hurt. Knights usually were men, strong men, tall men, and many dreams to become a knight ended at the point of another’s blade.

❄️ You were also the closest thing he had to a friend rather than a subordinate. You never much took the class difference between the two of you to heart. You weren’t afraid to say what you meant. It’s one of the things he liked about you.

🔥Basically, he didn’t want to risk losing you if he could help it.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest and tapped your foot. “And you think you’re so tough? I’ve seen you train, candy cane prince.”

You couldn’t be serious. “Are you challenging me, (Y/N)?”

“Call it what you want, either way I call it kicking ye royal arse, your Highness.”

Todoroki shook his head. “I‘m not going to fight you, (Y/N). I only meant that I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Angrily, you grimaced. He sounded just like your dad. “Nice excuse, but it sounds like you’re scared to me, yellow belly.” You flapped your arms to resemble a chicken. “Ba-kaw!” Interrupting all other points he wanted to make, you kept up your teasing until he got visibly annoyed.

Insulted, Todoroki huffed. “Fine, if you want a duel, I’ll give you a duel.”

❄️ So, he gave you your fight late one evening where no one would see or stop the two of you.

🔥 You fought valiantly, charging him and clashing blades; Despite being knocked down again and again, you kept standing up until you literally couldn’t anymore.

❄️ In the end, you couldn’t stand up to his training and experience.

🔥 Though you lost, he was breathing hard and heavy, and he took more than a few blows against his armor.

❄️ Needless to say, Todoroki was impressed. Most knights usually held back on him because he was the prince, but not you. You fought like your life depended on it and didn’t hold back not once. Possibly because being a knight was your life, your true dream. He couldn’t ask you to live an empty life because of his concern.

“I’m not done!” You huffed and tried to stand.

Todoroki held out his hand rather than add another blow against you and offered you a slim smile that made your face warm. “You fought well.”

🔥 Since that day, Todoroki decided to help you reach your dream.

❄️ He taught you the basic skills he knew along with what he was learning from his own teacher whenever the two of you had the chance.

🔥 This led to some late night talks about one another’s dreams and hopes for the kingdom.

❄️ He’s your number one supporter in your endeavor to become a good knight despite your father’s wishes that you follow in his footsteps.

🔥 You’re also his supporter in believing he’d make a good future king that could lead the kingdom to peace rather than war like his own father. He often comes to you for advice and reassurance.

❄️ Speaking of his father, you still had to get his approval to properly train as a knight.

🔥 Todoroki had full faith in you to do this, but his and your father, not so much.

❄️ Endeavor didn’t really believe in your strength as a naive girl, and your father didn’t want to see you hurt.

🔥 Todoroki doesn’t think he’s ever seen you cry in his life. You were always so strong, but he supposed knights had times when they had to cry, too. You were only human, after all. The thought of you having to give up your dream hurt him just as much.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). I’ll make sure you have a chance to be a knight.”

❄️ When it came time for Todoroki to receive a personal retainer. He very easily told his father that he wanted you to be his bodyguard, much to your surprise.

🔥 In your shock, you accidentally singed the jacket on your dad’s back with the brand you were holding.

“This is a serious matter. I expected you to make a proper choice, Prince Shouto.”

You were even more flattered at the faith and pride Shouto held in regards to you. “You can trust her armor to protect you, so why can’t you trust her to protect me?”

Endeavor ignored his words, eyes glued on you behind your anvil. “There’s a fundamental difference.”

Still, Shouto persisted on your behalf. “Fine. If you think she can’t do it, then let her fight the other knights. Whoever beats her can be my retainer.”

❄️ King Endeavor agreed to his son’s request, if only to end this fondness he’s noticed his son growing for you.

“Prince Shouto, do you really think that’s a good idea?” you question.

“I do. Just trust yourself, (Y/N).”

🔥 You were beyond shocked really but quickly sprung into action. You threw on your own armor and brought your own personal sword.

❄️ The battles were tough and lasted long, but you managed to prove yourself. You defeated every opponent up for the job of Shouto’s retainer.

🔥 You impressed your father that day into letting you become a knight. Though, the King still didn’t seem pleased but a deal was a deal.

❄️ Dressed in the official royal armor, you went to the throne room, kneeled and became knighted to protect Shouto until your death.

🔥 As soon as you were alone with the prince again, you threw your arms around him.

❄️ He gave you your dream, and you were more than happy to give him your life.

You had saluted to him, one fist drawn to your chest. “I promise from here on to protect you with my life, my lord.”

Todoroki reached out and grabbed your hand, dropping it from its formal position above your heart. “(Y/N), I’ve already trusted you with my life from the beginning.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead that made your heart flutter. “Please, let me protect yours, too.”

🔥 Your life beginning as a knight would still be filled with obstacles, but you’d solve them together until you could help Todoroki achieve his dream, too.

❄️ In the end, he knew you’d make a great knight one day, but he thought you’d make an even better queen.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #fantasy au #todoroki bnha #shouto #bnha #bnha todoroki

[leonthecardboardunicorn]

Man of Your Dreams, Chapter 11

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Even as I explained my dreams to the others, I was still unsure. "I know this seems insignificant, but this felt like my other dreams. I'm just not sure what this could mean."

“Are you sure that this wasn't just a dream?" Hugo asked me.

"That was a memory," Willem said. "There's no way you could've known Lacan's last name otherwise."

Felix was quiet for a long moment, but he finally spoke up, "I.. I think I have an idea of what's going on." All eyes turned to him. "I know you may not trust this coming from me, but- I think that he's coming after Lacan."

"Lacan?!"

"That can't be possible," Vain said, "the Castle was sealed away, we saw it-"

"With all the power that he has now, it may just be enough to break the seal again."

My heart sank. 'No, no, no-' We had worked so hard to stop that dreaded future, and it could all be taken from us in the blink of an eye.

Vain and Hugo exchanged a look, and a flicker of doubt turned to certainty. "We'll need to head to the Castle in the Sky."

"You trust me?" Felix asked. Was that why he kept his silence?

"If you were trying to trick us, I doubt you would've come this far," Hugo said. Felix breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll contact Elias and see if we can get his ship," Alfonse said, hurrying out the door.

My heart was in my throat as we waited for the ship to come. 'How are we going to face Sulien?' I thought. I'd seen his power for myself, and he'd be even stronger now that he had Felix's power. 'We're walking into the heart of the lion's den.' My thoughts kept going to Felix, standing at my side. I knew better than anyone how foolish it was to try to stop someone, but.. 'Is he going to be all right going with us?'

He turned to me, tilting his head. "Are you all right?"

"I.. I'm not sure you should go with us," I said at last. But all I could think about was that moment that Suilen's sword had cut him, him falling before me- The moment that I thought I'd lost him. "It would be safer if you stay back."

“What?! You can't ask me to just stay here-"

"Felix, he has your magic!" I protested. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I.. Won't you need me to help you navigate the Castle?" he asked. That was true, but-

"Willem can navigate it for us!"

"Like heck he's going! He doesn't-" He suddenly caught himself, turning away in frustration. He sighed. "..I know there's not much that I can do, but I can't just stay back and do nothing. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt."

I knew that feeling of being helpless. How many times had my friends tried to get me to stay behind when they were worried about me, and I had insisted. I didn't want to be helpless then either. "..Fine," I said at last. "Just try to stay out of danger, all right?" He squeezed my hand.

When we faced Sulien before, we had sent half of our friends home. This time, we didn't have that luxury. Despite all the arguments, everyone was coming with us, even Vain and Willem. 'If we're going to face Sulien, we're going to need all the power we can get.'

No matter how many times we visited the Castle in the Sky, it never failed to make my stomach churn. 'I just hope that we don't fall this time..'

“Hey, Felix,” Zeus said suddenly, “there's something that I've been wondering.” Felix tilted his head. “You said that the three of you were best friends. How did you three meet?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Well.. I knew Lacan's family before I knew him. We lived in the same village,” he said, and he started to ease as he talked. “But it wasn't until we were called to the castle that we actually met.”

“Called to the castle?”

“That's when we were told that we were the Reciters,” Felix said. “We were summoned to the castle, and they told us that we were the destined three. It was quite the shock at the time. A baker and a blacksmith were the heirs of Daylight and Nightmare. Though..” he glanced over at Willem, “Probably not so much a surprise for this one.”

“I suspect everyone knew that a Reciter would come from the Rembrandt family,” Willem admitted sheepishly.

“Does that mean that you were a nobleman?”

“Pretty close to it.”

“A baker, a blacksmith, and a nobleman.. You can only imagine the adventures we got up to,” Felix said with a smile.

Felix froze as we landed in the Castle courtyard. "Was it.. always like this?" he asked. I looked on in confusion, but he shook his head. "There's no time for that. Follow me."

Each hallway looked the same as we wove through the halls, but Felix moved with a certain sureness. He stopped before a door, his breath catching. "I've been here so many times," he mumbled. "Is Sulien in there?"

When we opened the door, the room was empty- except a single coffin in the center of the room. Felix knelt before the coffin, looking over the side. He sighed. "Lacan's seal is still intact. It appears that Suilen has not arrived here yet."

"We're ahead of him then." I sighed. Every time before, he had been there.

Vain took charge. "We should keep an eye out for him; we should have guards standing outside." We quickly agreed, sending half of our group to wait outside.

It had been nerve-wracking thinking about the battle, but my nerves were on fire just.. waiting. I cautiously took a seat next to Felix.

After a moment, I felt something brush against my hand. I looked down to see Felix taking my hand, but his expression was cool and blank. I felt better, knowing that he was at my side.

"There's something that I wanted to ask you." Felix looked up as Hugo approached us. My heart caught in my throat as I watched the two of them.

"What is it?"

“Are you certain about this?" he asked. "In standing with us, you are defending Lacan's seal. This might be the closest you can come to seeing him again. Will you stand with us even still?"

I wanted to speak up, say anything, but I could hardly deny his words. Felix was silent for what felt like an eternity- and then he smiled. "If there is another way, we'll find it," he said at last. "I have something I can't afford to lose now."

Hugo smiled. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, going back to join the others.

And suddenly I heard a piercing shriek. I bolted to my feet, drawing out my wand. 'Here he comes!'

Sulien strolled into the room, smiling. "Ah, there you are. Somehow, I had a feeling you all would be waiting for me. Good to see you didn't disappoint."

Our friends came into the chambers, and my heart broke as I saw them limping in. "I'm sorry," Willem said, "we couldn't stop him."

“We know what you came here for," Felix growled. "You won't lay a hand on him!"

"And who's going to stop me? A Dragonkin without any magic- or perhaps any of your new human pals? Well, at least it would give me a chance to test out these new powers." He clasped his hands to his chest, and a dark fog oozed out of them. In a few seconds, we were faced with a small row of Mini-Dragons.

'Oh no!' I braced myself as the Minidragons rushed towards us, raising my wand.

"Stop!" Felix snapped. All at once, the Minidragons came to a screeching halt, looking up at Felix expectantly. Sulien stared in shock.

"How?"

"Do not forget who's power you're using. I've been training Minidragons since I was small!” Felix said, then he turned, commanding to the Minidragons, "Attack him!"

Sulien quickly regained himself, blocking himself with a barrier. "Hmm. That was just one of my powers." The others all raised their wands, and my heart soared.

"Remember, we have to get our hands on that sword, no matter the cost!" Hugo said; a branch-like magic circle appeared in the air.

'Nobody's giving up, so I can't give up either!'

Suddenly, I felt a warm power rushing through me, a power that I knew well. I felt Felix's gaze fall on me.

"That is.." I nodded.

"The power of the Goddess Crystal!" Felix smiled, taking my hand. We faced Sulien with a new determination.

Sulien's eyes widened. "I heard the legend of the Goddess of Time, but I am steps away from ultimate power. Let's see who's stronger." He waved his hand, and a flurry of black arrows came swarming at us.

I quickly touched the magic circle. 'Let's hope this works!' In a moment, the arrows froze midair.

I narrowly ducked out of the way as I heard my friends casting spells behind me, trying anything, but Sulien kept up his barrier.

'If we can move a little faster,' I thought, 'perhaps we could get past the barrier.' I remembered before, I had sped up Lucious and Caesar's time. Maybe I could do it on a larger scale?

Dodging another blast of arrows, I ran up to Zeus, touching his shoulder. In a moment, he was wrapped in light. "Speed up his time!" I didn't have time to see if it worked; I quickly darted up to Hiro, speeding up his time as well.

"I see the Goddess of Time has awakened. I came here for my counterpart, but perhaps another's power would make this easier.” Sulien moved in the blink of an eye, raising his blade-

"Watch out!" Just before his blade came down, Felix jumped in front, shielding Hugo from the attack. Hugo froze, wide-eyed.

"Felix!"

"Don't worry about me," he said, stumbling to the side. He tried to smile, but I saw pain in his eyes. "He already stole my magic, there's not much he can do to me."

I knelt by his side, pressing my hands to his side. 'Turn back his time.' In an instant, his wound had healed, and his eyes widened.

"Huh. Who knew the Dragon King would fall to a mortal blade," Sulien sneered.

"Get away from him!" A blast of light hit Sulien, knocking him back. I looked up to see Zeus had moved behind him, casting his spell.

'Way to go, Zeus!'

Sulien smiled. "You're going to have to do better than that if you're going up against me," he said. This time, he was better prepared; no matter what spell we threw at him, he threw up a barrier.

"Goddess," Hugo said in a low voice, "I think I can get close enough to him."

I shook my head. "It's too dangerous," I whispered back. "You already almost lost your magic once. If he gets his hands on your magic-"  I didn't want to think about how powerful he could be.

"I'm the only one who can get close enough to him," he answered.

"I can-" Felix and Hugo both shook their heads.

"Help the others," Hugo said. "See if you can speed up their time as well." I nodded.

The others could move fast, but they couldn't teleport as fast as Hugo could. "..I'm trusting you, Hugo." He turned, casting a spell.

'Just waiting for the right moment.' I ran up to Caesar, tapping him on the shoulder, and I soon did the same with Lucious and then with Alfonse. Although I could feel a drain on my magic, I gritted my teeth. 'I can't give up now!' Soon, I had sped up the time of all of our friends, and they were moving all over the place, dodging Sulien's attacks and casting their own.

I could tell that Sulien was growing wearier, breaking out in sweat. "We just have to keep this up for a bit longer!"

His gaze fell on me. "I must say, your power is impressive, Goddess. I may not be able to take that magic for myself, but I'm sure I have enough to take you out." He raised his hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hugo appear behind him.

'All I have to do,' I thought desperately, 'is keep his attention on me.'

I raised my wand, summoning all the magic that I could. "Lumen!"

He raised his hand, but, at the last second, he suddenly turned- and slashed out at Hugo!

"Hugo!" Vain rushed forward, catching Hugo as he fell.

"I'm sorry.."

"Now I have the power of two time travelers." Sulien smiled at us. "I wonder if this is power enough to stop the Goddess of Time." He turned and started walking towards the coffin once more.

'No, no, no-'

"Lumen!" This time, his barrier was even stronger, and his focus turned to me.

"I was going to leave you be, since I have more.. pressing matters to attend to, but perhaps this will give me a chance to use this new powers of mine."

I struggled to get to my feet, but I didn't have any energy left. My heart raced as he pulled open the coffin lid-

'I can't.. let things end here!' Before I got fully to my feet, Sulien waved his hand, and I was blown back by a wave of dark magic.

"Liz!" Strong arms caught me, and I looked up into green, green eyes.

"Felix, I.."

That was the last thing I knew before it all went to darkness.

I awoke in the darkness. Every muscle in my body ached as I got to my feet, and, when I looked around, I was all alone.

'Nothing but darkness as far as the eye could see..'

I felt a chill run down my spine as I started walking, shivering. It felt like anything could jump out at me in the dark. I knew I needed to find my friends, but I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't racing. 'Please don't let there be ghosts, please don't let there be ghosts-'

"Darkness, endless darkness," I heard a voice say. "Once again, I am all alone in the darkness. No matter what I do, I am always alone in the darkness.."

I knew that voice. "Felix!" I rushed to the sound of the voice, all my fear melting away as I ran towards him. It felt like an eternity, running in the darkness, but I knew he was there-

At last I saw him, kneeling in the dark, burying his face in his hands. "Helpless," he muttered, "I am helpless.. Helpless to save Lacan, helpless to save my people, helpless to escape this darkness.."

My heart ached as I watched him; I couldn't imagine the pain that he must have been feeling. 'I can't watch this-'

"Felix!" I cried, running up to him. Without thinking, I threw my arms around him, and he looked up, wide-eyed, as though the spell had been broken.

"Liz-" he cried breathlessly, and I pulled him close. "I thought I'd never see you again-"

"I found you," I said gently, "I found you. I'm here." He squeezed my hand.

"I was.. I was all alone," he said. "I thought I was trapped." I pulled him close, running my hand through his hair.

"I'm here." No matter what else had happened, Felix was by my side, and I could breathe a little easier.

Slowly, I helped him to his feet, and we looked around. "Where are we?"

"With all of the power Sulien has now," I said shivering, "it appears he sent us here. But.. I wonder if we'll be able to find the others in here." For all I know, we could have been scattered through the world with his power. I glanced over at Felix, noticing he was still shivering. Of course he would be frightened in this darkness.. "Are you going to be all right?"

He straightened up a bit, nodding, squeezing my hand. "I think I can handle it as long as you're here," he said, then quickly added, "We should hurry though."

We walked together through the darkness, and I heard him quietly humming beside me. Despite the darkness, I felt like I could do anything if he was by my side.

We had been walking for what felt like an eternity when I was suddenly assaulted by bright light. I shielded my eyes- and when the light faded, I found that I was standing in the harbor.

'I guess there are worse places that Sulien could've sent us,' I thought.

"Where are we?" Felix asked.

"This is Gedonelune Harbor," I said. Glancing around, I could see people bustling by, and market stalls lining everywhere. "And judging from the activity, it's market da- Huh?" I felt drops of rain fall on me. That was weird, it never rained in Gedonelune.

As I looked up, my blood ran cold as I saw two figures standing under an umbrella ahead of us. 'That's Lucious- and me!'

I couldn't hear the words they spoke, but I knew what they were saying.

And time seemed to stop as a figure stepped out of the shadows, a pale figure whose eyes shown like jewels.

"What?" Felix said. "That's.. me.”

Caesar: Sulien now has Hugo's power.. This isn't going to be pretty.

Alfonse: He's going to be unstoppable with all that power.

Caesar: If even you're worried, this can't be good.

Alfonse: I get worried sometimes! But.. we've gotta keep our heads up, right? Surely, there's got to be a way to defeat him.

Caesar: But how?

Alfonse: I don't know! But we'll do it the same way we do everything! Together!

Caesar: Right. Of course. But.. where are we, anyway?

Alfonse: Hopefully they'll find us next..

Caesar: Next time, 'Dreams Become Reality'!

#wizardess heart #Felix #Felix Baker #Man of Your Dreams #Fanmade Route

[monochrome-typewriter]

@wanderingthroughwickford

Unfortunately, elves already have a very defined place in my fantasy world. There are elves that fall outside the norm, but they fall into that group that isn't quite enough to make up their own class of people. :/

@i-demand-a-hug

Suggestions would be more than welcome! I was gonna message you, but then I thought I'd post this publicly in case anyone else had feedback. Here's what I have so far.

Angels- Of the humanoid creatures, they're the most naturally powerful magic users. They all have very light hair/eyes and the iconic feathered wings. They're very self-righteous and see all others as beneath them. They don't actually do much with their powers, but they claim they're the pinnacle of purity and perfection. Fallen angels are sort of a thing, but they're only really acknowledged as separate by other angels. They're the ones that are viewed as embarrassing or impure, and most angels don't want to associate with them. Other creatures just see an angel as an angel. The only real way to distinguish a fallen angel is that they're more likely to wear casual clothes with color, while most angels wear fancy, white clothes. Oh, angels are also all technically genderless. They can choose to present as whatever gender, but they aren't assigned one at birth.

Elves - Elves are really proud as well, but not nearly as self righteous. They value hard work and knowledge. They're very advanced and are often magically talented due to study and practice rather than natural ability. They're also a lot more colorful than angels. This is a weird metaphor, but if you compared them to laundry, angels would go in the whites and elves would go in the brights. Their hair and eyes come in a variety of colors, and there are a larger number of dark skinned elves than dark skinned angels. Traditionally, they keep their hair long as a sign of pride. Delinquent elves looking to challenge expectations will often cut their hair in defiance. Most elves see this as improper, but they'll still begrudgingly respect the skills of a delinquent elf as long as they're hardworking. Basically, elves tend to be more traditionally feminine, but if an elf cuts their hair and becomes a blacksmith, they may be considered strange, but other elves will at least acknowledge their skills as a blacksmith.

Fairies - They tend to work more closely with elves than any other creatures. Aside from that, they tend to be shy. They're also not nearly as prideful, and they value morality more than anything. If you're a good person, fairies don't care how you look or what you do in your spare time. They're the most diverse of the three mentioned so far. They don't have much of an internal hierarchy, instead preferring to work as a unit as much as possible. They're guardians of nature, so they have to work together to keep the seasons changing and the plants healthy. They don't have time for being judgmental. Just don't shirk responsibilities or harm nature and you'll be fine.

Dwarves/halflings - They're different races, but their cultures are very similar. They're very down to earth and practical, and they're more likely to get their hands dirty with manual labor than messing about with books and magic. They tend to not be fond of the pride of elves and especially angels, but they judge individuals based on their own actions rather than stereotypes. Dwarves are more rough and hairy. They're inclined toward mining and blacksmithing or other things that take substantial muscle. Halflings resemble children even when fully grown, and they're more likely to be farmers or shepherds. Both races get along quite well with one another, though halflings are on better terms with elves than dwarves are.

Nymphs - This includes elementals, dryads, sirens, and similar creatures. They're mostly solitary, so they don't have communities or social expectations in the same way as the previous creatures. They usually run wild in bogs where there's plenty of shelter and resources for their needs. I haven't figured out a ton about them, but yeah. I might as well throw selkies in here, too. They're more friendly and live in oceans rather than bogs, and they're all female unlike nymphs, but they're also solitary and prefer to roam free.

Gorgons, orcs, and ogres - I haven't given them as much thought yet. I'm including them here just to specify that there are less humanoid creatures. I have characters that would fall into this category, but I haven't decided any specifics (or even which creatures, exactly, I want to include).

Spirits - These are the closest I have to humans in appearance, but they're generally pacifists and empaths. They don't engage in combat or use offensive magic. They exist to find those who are suffering and help them through their struggles. They also don't need things like food because they're immortal. The only form of sustenance they get is through the wellbeing of those around them.

Dark humanoids - I'm still picking a name for these creatures, but they resemble the undead without actually being undead. They're pale, have sunken features, and lurk in shadowy places. There are different classifications based on abilities, including shapeshifters, banshee-like creatures, and soul-suckers. They're not universally hostile, but they're stereotyped as such and are considered dangerous by most. There are certainly those who would do you harm, but you're just as likely to find an amicable individual among these creatures. Because of the way they're viewed, they tend to be solitary, though there are a small number of social groups.

Dolls - These are artificially created beings typically only belonging to wealthy and powerful magic users (mostly elves). They are created typically for no purpose outside of being dolls. They're like a cross between Pearls from Steven Universe and real world pets. They aren't slaves and aren't typically treated with active cruelty, but they're treated like children or even like cats or puppies. They're something to dote on and show off, and they're expected to behave in a way that's most convenient for their owners. They don't get to pursue their own dreams or goals or decide what they want to do with their lives. It's meant to be unclear whether or not this is unfair, because they're not technically a species of their own. They're designed by their owners, and their level of apparent sentience is dependent on how they're made. There are simple, childlike dolls that don't express much desire for anything outside of their pampering, but there are also very complex dolls that would be nearly indistinguishable from humans if they were to be part of this world. They're like my fantasy equivalent of androids because I love artificial intelligence.

There are also unicorns, gryphons, phoenixes, and dragons. Of these creatures, dragons are the closest to elves in intelligence, though really they're superior to all other species in terms of both that and magical power. They can shape-shift, though that's not their signature ability, and they're mostly content to stay in their dragon form. They don't play a role like dragons in fairytales, and "slaying a dragon" isn't considered a noble quest or even acceptable. Dragons are respected, and killing one would be akin to murdering one of your own species. Most wouldn't stand a chance even if they tried, though.

I also have three other humanoid species that I'm unsure where to put. There's a cyclops-like species, except they aren't at all like the ones seen in Greek mythology. They're just like humans but with one big eye. The other two include a species similar to spirits, but with combat abilities, and they're the least diverse in appearance. They all have straight black hair and black eyes. They're very distinguishable. The last species is also very distinguishable. They're similar to fairies in a lot of ways, except fairies are tiny and have wings. Also, this species all have very puffy hair. On animecharactersdatabase.com, I came across a character named Moa from Show By Rock. Her hair is the kind of puffy I'm talking about.

Then there's the possibility of humans or something similar. That's about where I am.

#long post