#Forager is somewhere in between

[lanternouslobster]

Some of my BFDI AUs

I have a lot but these are my favorites.

Aphotic - One of my favorites, so it's at the top. Humanized and takes place in a realistic world version of Yoyle City, so no recovery. A mysterious, unidentified illness has been going around in Yoyle City, with seemingly no correlation or interaction between new cases. The problem? Everyone who seems to experience the symptoms goes missing around a week after the illness first appears. GB and TB, two world-renowned scientists, start investigating this illness along with Tree, Pen, Fries, Fanny, and Teardrop, as they were close to some of the missing cases. Things turn to utter chaos when Clock shows up at their research facility— three months after his own disappearance.

Shackled Divinity - This is the one with those deity designs I posted. Takes place presumably post-BFB and TPOT. Loser uncovers his buried memories as an ancient deity and goes mad with power, forcing Winner to gather up what other deities they can reach and put a stop to Loser's reign of terror.

Prismatic - Realistic world without recovery, but they're still objects. Tree and Fries are reporters who have picked up on a series of disappearances linked to the Crystalline Caverns, a popular tourist destination right outside of Yoyle City. Supposedly it's due to people wandering into the prohibited parts of the caverns without supervision, but Tree feels that something is off and convinces Fries of it. They go to investigate and get interviews for an article, only to discover that the reflective crystals in the caverns serve as a gateway to a near inescapable labyrinth that they unfortunately get stuck in. Now they must rely on the guidance of Pen and Puffball, two people who have gotten trapped in the caves years before, in order to find a way to escape.

Forager - Competition world, not humanized. It starts off as one of those classic BFB AUs where Four turns evil for no discernible reason and forces the contestants into a death game. One specific set of 8 are put into a heavily forested area far away from everyone else, and Four expects them to go insane and kill each other. So what do they do? Why, they band together and build cabins and farms and live together, of course. The group is Liy, Stapy, Lightning, Marker, Fries, Puffball, Pen, and Remote.

This one is unnamed and more just a flimsy concept I really really like. Humanized. Realistic world. Ish. It involves Pen getting cursed and now he's slowly dying and lots of flowers and Leafy being a malevolent nature deity and Tren and Black Hole being the embodiment of death. It's mostly Tren angst with a supernatural edge. No idea if I'll ever solidify this into an actual AU.

Hm, I sure wonder how many of these include Pen as a major character! Let's see... 4. Out of 5. He's like a lil' shimeji thing in my brain that wanders into my stories that I Cannot keep Out.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Cregan's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Cregan Stark x Reader | 900< | cw: fem!reader, angst, blood, injuries, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

Cregan did not wed you because he was drawn by your bright eyes. He did not wed you because your smile could melt a hole through the ice that held up the Wall. No, he wed you because your house and his were long strained, and taking you as his wife would ensure peace between you.

He wed you because it was his duty, though he could not deny that he would soon come to love you for the prior things mentioned. But how could he, when it was never brought up?

As far as anyone knew, as far as you knew, your husband did you well simply because he was your husband.

Being the youngest of your family, you were rather neglected. You knew little beyond entertaining yourself and others with simple humor and preposterous ideas. Winterfell would come to adore the warmth that was borne from the coldness of your youth. They would do the same in how easily amused their lady was of the Northern coldness.

You loved the snow, but were fundamentally useless in it, knowing nothing beyond making snowmen. You knew not how to start a fire, nor build a tent; you did not know which flora to forage either, much less how to hunt.

Cregan did not fault you for it, for it was not your fault you were not taught. But he did not appreciate how you took more importance in chatting with his men than learning these skills; he tells you as much.

"But what you ask of me is your job," you simply respond, "mine is to keep the spirits lifted."

He huffs, breath turning into fog, "it would do you well to learn. What if there is no fire and no one who knew how to make one?"

"Then I ask if you plan to leave me to fend for myself, my lord?"

He tilts his head, jaw muscle feathering in offence, "do you think so little of me?"

"I thank the gods daily for supplying me with such a reliable husband," you smile, "and I pray the day will never come that I need to fend for myself."

Part of him is endeared by your darling naiveté, another is frustrated by it. He figures if he cannot convince you to learn, then he will make nature your teacher.

He instructs one of the servants to take you berry picking and to leave you somewhere that is not too close but not too far from Winterfell. The servant obeys her lord and does just that. She slips away from you through the foliage, making sure to leave you any tools or weapons you would need.

You were left completely unware, treading deeper and deeper into the forest, following where the berry bushes went. You were too wrapped up in your singing to realize you were completely alone.

That is until you heard a wolf howling.

You did not know where you were going. You did not know which way was North or South or which way Winterfell laid. All you knew was you wanted to go home with your basket of berries, but that seemed impossible when you dropped them into the ground with a deafening scream. Your leg had been snagged into something. You writhe in pain, finding your shin caught in the jaw of a bear trap. Your hot tears turn into frost and your breath grows shorter and shorter in panic.

Cregan was not one to worry. He patiently waited for you by the gates of your home, anticipating that you'd be the next one to come around. But it was never you… and then, it started to snow.

He calls a search party for you. He hears many a man call out your name as the night begins to take the forest. At the same time, the ground became slowly whiter and whiter while his worry thickened at a more rapid pace. Soon, his hair and shoulders were frosted over and his source of light no longer came from the sky but a torch in his hand.

"MY LORD!"

Cregan perks and run towards the man calling for him. He quickly reaches him and looks around for you, but you stood nowhere. He sees the man remove his fur hat and lower his gaze.

By the old gods.

He drops to his knees. The snow scatters, revealing the red that laid underneath. He brushes off your body, rigid and cold. He releases a horrified sound at the sight of your mangled leg. He cradles you in his arms and rushes you back home.

The maesters assure him you were still breathing and that there was hope for you yet. They might save your life, but you would lose your leg.

Cregan laments as the maesters operate on you. He seeks absolution by the weirwood tree and vows to serve you ardently, more ardently so long as your life is spared.

For a moment, the old gods looked upon Cregan Stark. They delivered his wife. You lived… if you could call it that.

You wake up to the face of your husband who immediately weeps at your side, begging you for your forgiveness. You clutch his cheek and tell him, "there is nothing to forgive."

But there is, and he would never forgive himself for how you never smiled at the snow again, or how you died midday as children made snow angels outside your window.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fifteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.7k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water's surface, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. Everything is starting to turn into Blue's favorite color. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. It's a shame they taste so good because the petals are a beautiful fuschia. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

The moment you returned yesterday, she had asked how training with Ghost went. That was quick, she'd observed. Weasling past the rules of your friendship, you gave her a half-lie: He went easy on me this first time. She didn't seem fully convinced that Ghost and 'going easy' belonged in the same sentence together.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” She looks at your near-empty hand. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh— Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

It takes you a moment to respond. "He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to think about arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He speaks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one. Could be others so we'll keep an eye out."

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

"Right," you grimace. "Blood and rot. Their favorites."

Setting down the catch and spear, you help Ghost gather some wood from the modest pyramid stacked beside the cabin. He nudges the Grey with a booted foot, making it tumble limply into the trench. Starting the fire in there should keep the flames contained.

As you silently place the wood and some kindling over the carcass, your mind is in two places at once. With Ghost right next to you, it's impossible to not think about yesterday; how it felt to be grabbed by him, how he questioned you again about the ammo trip, and how you can't help but detest the thought of him looking at you in pity like he once he did. 

You also think about how much you fucking hate Greys. Christ, they are disgusting. Your fingers accidentally brush against the paper-thin skin that hangs off the bones and a shudder travels up your spine.

Ghost starts the fire with a match and the two of you watch the flames catch, quietly at first— then, they roar through the corpse, quickly turning it black. Bitter smoke intermingles with the crisp spring air and the smell has you coughing into your arm.

Blue has taken it upon herself to avoid the fire, making an audible gagging sound before scooping up Grim. In her absence, you shift from foot to foot, stealing a glance at Ghost. He watches the ash build up and the flames tamper down in mild interest. 

Your fingers curl up into balls, fisting the excess fabric. "Are you worried about more?" you ask him.

It's the first thing you've said to him - actually said to him - since cutting your training short. He loosens a breath and slightly shrugs his broad shoulders. "No. I told you. We never see more than a few at a time." You weren't worried, but if you were, his dismissal of the subject would reassure you. "You should be careful until I finish your bow, though. Unless you're good at throwing knives."

"I'm not," you almost snort, voice no louder than it needs to be. "But Blue is quite good at it. She's been killing squirrels for me."

He hums his response, a low sound that gets lost in the crackle of embers, and you wonder if that's him showing a lack of interest in this kind of conversation with you. With a deep inhale, you change the subject to one you can't ignore.

"Ghost— I want to apologize," you turn to face him, straightening your shoulders. "I wasted your time yesterday. It won't happen again. If we could... give it another try, I would like that."

The smoke is starting to fade. Ghost breaks his gaze from it to study you. You try not to shrink away, wondering what he's thinking. If he feels pity, it's impossible to detect in the dark irises set behind his mask, though, you've never been able to find much of anything in them. 

"You didn't waste my time, Twix. I have an interest in your capabilities." 

"What?" 

"If you're going to be staying here," he elaborates, "—then your strength is of value to me. I'd like to know that if I ask you to do something, you can do it. That if shit happens again, I can rely on you."

"You can," you breathe out. "I am... capable."

"You are," he agrees, looking away. "You're good with a bow. You think quick. But you're still weak, and you doubt yourself." The blunt comments make your brows lower, but you can't help but feel satisfied with the glimpses of approval. "Yesterday was my fault. You weren't ready for it and I should've known that."

"I am ready," you protest, lips parting as you shake your head. "Let me try again. I don't want to be coddled."

"I'm not going to coddle you," he replies in a firm drawl. "I want you stronger first. Let's start there."

“Okay.”

A hand.

There's a hand on your shoulder, heavy and firm, offering a slight shake. With a gasp, your eyes fly open to darkness, only the white of a skull visible above you, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. 

"What the hell?" are the first words you sputter, voice harsh and raw from sleep. You grip your throat to clear it. 

He scans your face. "Get up. Come on."

"What? What... what fucking time is it?"

"Almost dawn. Let's go."

It takes a few deep breaths to calm the rush of adrenaline ignited by his abrupt wake-up call. Go where? you think to ask, but instead, you slick a hand through your hair, warily rubbing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Somehow you end up outside, wading through the sprawled-out fog as you follow behind his silhouette, the morning so early and quiet that it would've felt like a dream if not for your crunching footsteps. You braid your into a single, tight braid along the way. With such shitty sleep, you're too out of it to even scowl at his backside, wondering how getting up at this hour will in any way make you stronger. 

The answer is in the two axes he carries and the towering oak tree he stops in front of, your eyes climbing up the height of it before landing back down on Ghost. Your hands are forced out of your coat pockets when an axe is offered to you, fingers curling around the handle and abs tightening from the surprising weight of it.

Confusion rolls around in your gut. Slowly, you ask, "Um. You... want me to cut this thing down?"

"We need more wood after yesterday." He inclines his head and gives a tap of his own axe to the thick trunk. "Good size for you to start with."

"It's huge," you mutter under your breath. "Why do we have to do this so early?"

If there's any reasoning to it at all, he doesn't bother sharing. Rather, he stalks over to another tree about ten meters away. The calm air is soon shattered by the rough sound of metal biting wood as he starts effortlessly cutting the trunk. A large part of you considers dropping the axe and leaving without a word, but you ignore it.

"Alright then," you whisper to yourself. 

It's not the first time you've chopped down a tree. You used to help Paul with it, and truthfully, you're surprised Ghost has never asked you to do chores like this sooner. It's certainly bigger than the skinny, young trees you used to go for, evident in how little of a dent you make with the first swing.

Either you're as weak as Ghost claims, or this axe of his is heavier than the one Paul had because your biceps feel strained by the third hit.

"Have you never done this before?"

The voice at your back nearly makes you drop the axe. Whirling around, you face the colossal presence of him and wonder how you didn't notice it sooner.

"I have." You rest the thick blade on the ground, grumbling. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up on people?"

"Be more aware of your surroundings." His tone teeters towards admonishing, and he looks you over before ticking up a brow. "And fix your stance before you throw your bloody back out."

He nudges the toe of his boot against yours, forcing you to spread your feet further apart. Your lips roll together as he grunts in approval. "Try again now."

When he takes a step back, you face the tree again, bending your elbows before extending them sharply. The blade cuts deeper this time, if only by a little.

"You're focusing too much on your arms," he remarks behind your shoulder. 

Your eyebrow twitches. "I'm... I'm holding the axe with my arms. Why would I not focus on them?"

"When you're shooting arrows, what muscles do you use the most?"

Thinking back to those lessons from Paul, you answer almost immediately. "My back." It's always the part that gets most sore. "And my... my shoulders, I guess."

"Focus more on those."

His advice helps. The next swing deals considerable damage to the bark. You turn to see his response, but he's already gone back to his tree.

The next few days involve so much chopping and sawing that you think you might be starting to hate wood and all of its forms. After the trees are down, you have to cut them into sizeable logs. The back-and-forth motion leaves your arm numb. You quickly realize why Ghost is making you get up early for this work— once the sun is out, it becomes miserable, cold sweat cascading down your back and temples. 

Blue decides this is not the kind of training she's interested in watching. You don't see much of her except during dinner where she offers to cook the squirrels she's caught for you. You don't object. You pick the meat apart down to the needly bones, wiggle your sore toes of their confinements, and knock out earlier than either of them. Fatigue goes back to claiming you swift and heavy, like a current that pulls you down, down, down. The dreams sit behind a dark wall, blocked for now. 

It goes on like this for a whole week, and somewhere along the way, you stop hating it. The grunts that leave your mouth are laced with exertion and focus. Your arms don't hurt as much. You split the logs apart as your mind fills with thoughts of everything you hate. Greys. Death. Pity. You imagine breaking all those things into a hundred, rotten pieces. It feels... good.

One morning, you awaken to sunlight already bleeding through the plywood, and confusion sits you up. You look around, wondering why Ghost didn't get you up sooner, only to find Blue lying belly-down on the raggedy rug, flipping through one of her new magazines.

"Where's Ghost?" 

"Good morning to you, too," she sings. Her chin inclines from where it rests in her palm. "I decided you need a different kind of training today. He's setting it up."

"You... you decided that, huh?"

She hums. "I made you breakfast. Go eat." She waves her hand. "I'm sure he'll be done soon."

You have no idea what she's talking about, but your stomach guides you to the cooked meat calling your name. She points out things in the magazine, like old celebrities and ridiculous perfume ads, cute boys and yummy sweets she wishes she could try; you nod along as you eat.

When he returns, she perks up. Practically tugs on your arm. You have to remind her that you're still barefoot. She impatiently groans the entire time you are lacing up your boots, taking your sweet time on purpose. 

The pond is where she leads you. That place where you first saw her.

Except today, there is a thin log stretched across one end to the other. A bridge.

"We have got to work on your balance, my student," Blue announces, hands on her hips. A gentle, warm breeze tousles her hair and she swipes it from her face. "We can't have a repeat of you-know-what."

Your brows shoot up and a chuff of breath leaves your nose. "Are you trying to say I have no sense of balance?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Come on, now."

You almost forgot Ghost followed the two of you out here until he sits on a tree stump with his carving knife and the bow he's making. He's been working on it for a few hours every day. Today, when you steal a glance as Blue clasps your hand and leads you to the homemade bridge, it almost looks like a bow, finally taking on a curved shape. You can't see much of it, though, because soon you are being instructed to cross the log.

"Without falling," Blue adds. 

"Easy," you tease, shrugging. 

"Prove it."

The log is about the width of the metal beam, but much shorter. You cross over it, arms outstretched at your sides and boots hovering a few feet above glistening water that is teeming with fish. When you step down on the other side, you shoot Blue a grin.

She rubs her chin. "Not bad, not bad. Again."

You do it again with ease, even though your muscles are still stiff from your morning workouts. 

"Okay, this time, we're going to make it more realistic." 

By realistic, she means baring her teeth in a growl and sticking her arms out like a Grey. All of a sudden, you are being chased across the log, Blue running behind you. Explicatives leave your lips until your boot misses a step and you fall into the water. This time, the shallow pond offers a comfortable temperature that doesn't send your body into panic mode. You break the surface, able to stand up on the rocky bottom, and throw your wet hair out of your face as laughter bubbles up your throat on its own accord.

You look up at Blue, playfully glaring. She smirks.

"Come here, Grey," you say.

You grab her by the ankle and pull her down into the water with you. She gasps and giggles, thrashing around in her soaked clothes as you splash water in her face. 

"Or," you taunt, "Should I say Amelia?"

Her eyes widen. "How did you—" 

Then, she's leaping at you, pushing your head under the water. "Don't ever call me that."

"Or what?" You tease and swim away, scaly fish brushing against your ankles as the wide legs of your jeans ride up. "You'll kill me?"

"Might have to!"

You're not sure how long the two of you swim in there. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Until your fingertips are pruney like how they used to get when you used to swim in the pool with your sister.

You hoist yourself out of the pond and sit by the water's edge, drenched shirt clinging to your breasts uncomfortably, but you don't care. You've felt far more uncomfortable things. The buttery sunlight kisses your exposed cheeks as you wring out your hair, Blue sitting beside you to do the same thing.

She peels off her wet jeans, probably uncomfortable in them. You would do the same if you were eleven and didn't care. On her thigh, the thick scar from her bullet wound blemishes the soft, pale skin.

"I'm a better teacher than Ghost, huh?" she says.

"So far," you nod, glancing at him. When you do, his eyes meet yours across the short distance. Only for a second. Before they flicker back down to the bow.

"He hates swimming, you know."

You look at her. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He never really goes in with me." She shrugs and buries her fingers in the grass. "Hey. Look. There are those violets I told you about."

You follow the direction of her eyes and sure enough, a patch of wild violets decorate the ground, gently bent in the breeze. As your clothes dry, the two of you pluck them. They are beautiful. Dark purple petals. You braid them into her hair. She tries to do the same for you, but her braiding skills need some work. It's a nice break from the past week you've had, your sore limbs sprawled against the grass to dry.

It's when the sun starts to lower that Blue puts her jeans back on. Your clothes are still wet, and the wind is starting to pick up, spreading gooseflesh across your skin. 

"Here."

The familiar low voice announces his presence. Tucking your wet hair behind your ears, you look up at Ghost. The two of you haven't exchanged many words except for his occasional correction of your form while cutting wood. 

He stands against the sun. You take the finished bow from him in quiet awe. It's even nicer up close, the smoothed oak caressing your palms as you glide them up and down the length of this new weapon. The first one he gave you was made for a child, but this one is larger, the perfect size for you. Your index finger gives a pluck to the string, feeling the hum of vibrations. He must have just added that. 

"Thank you," you tell him honestly. Whatever uncertainty or irritation you might feel about him doesn't change the swell of gratitude you feel in this moment. It’s a tangible thing that sits in your chest. “It's... great, really."

"Might take some getting used to,” he says gruffly.

You shrug. "That's alright."

You glance to your left where Blue is still changing. With a swallow, you hold the bow tight to your chest. "Do you think I'm ready to try more tomorrow? Not just the wood. I feel like... I feel like I've been getting stronger from it already."

He gives a short nod. "Tomorrow, then."

[optimist-pine]

Returns

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl finds something in his pack that doesn't belong to him... (ps. it's yours)

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: This is a silly little thank you for everyone who's been supporting my writing! If you've liked/commented/reblogged any of my works recently, this is for you. :)

Daryl digs around in his backpack, shoving aside arrow bits and extra clothes in the search for a clean(ish) rag he knows is buried in here somewhere. Ah, there, the glimpse of a red hue must be what he's looking for. He tugs it free, but as he brings it into the daylight it comes to his attention that this piece of cloth doesn't belong to him.

He drops it immediately, head swiveling to make sure nobody saw. But no, he's tucked far away from the rest of the group, not a soul in sight. He gingerly picks up the garment before realizing how ridiculous he's being and shoves it in his pocket. He'll slip into your tent, return it, and get the hell out of there and get on with the rest of his day.

Everyone's either dispersed to other parts of the farm or busy enough completing whatever chores they've taken on to notice him. Even if he didn't already know which tent was yours, it'd be obvious from the plethora of herbs and flowers hanging to dry by the entrance, and the dog-eared foraging guidebook waiting on a lawn chair for your return.

He peers through the screen window to assure himself that you're not around before unzipping the door and stepping inside. A moment too late, he realizes the amount of dirt he's just tracked into your otherwise pristine living space, and curses. Nothing to do about it now he supposes. He squats down, opening your pack and pulling the wayward item out of his pocket.

"Daryl? What're you doing in my-" Your voice makes him jump before your words falter.

His head snaps to you; you're bent down a bit, hands on your hips with sweat dripping down your temple. Your mouth is stuck in a cute little "o" of pure confusion. He's frozen, hand halfway between him and your belongings, lungs stuck mid-breath. He really should say something in his own defense.

"Is that my underwear?" You ask a little more quietly.

"I - uh..." He gapes. He's invading your privacy in so many ways, you're going to think he's a total ass if not a complete creep. And he actually doesn't mind you too much so he doesn't want you to think of him in that way. Not that you think of him at all. But now when you do you're going to hate his guts. "They - uh..." He tries.

"Ohh. I get it." You say, nodding, like this all makes total sense. "I've got something of yours I've been meaning to return, just wasn't sure how to make it not-awkward..." You kneel down beside him, fishing around in a side compartment on your bag. "Buuuut no matter. I believe these belong to you." You hold out a pair of faded boxers that've been rolled up neatly.

"Hey, Rick wants to know if-" Glenn appears in the tent opening and Daryl can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head as he takes in the two of you so close together, each obviously holding the other's intimates. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Just go talk to Rick when you're done or whatever, okay?" He sighs, walking away.

Daryl wastes no time grabbing his boxers, shoving them in his pocket. You do the same but with more grace, standing to brush off your pants.

You let out a small chuckle, biting down a bit on your lip. "It was so hectic when we left the CDC; must've grabbed each other's stuff then." You step outside and he follows. "Thanks for returning them." You say, stooping to re-zip the tent.

The CDC is such a blur that it takes effort to remember. There weren't enough rooms for everyone and so you'd asked to bunk with him. Even though he was sufficiently intoxicated that night, he'd been lucid enough to appreciate not being alone, your steady breaths in the unsettling darkness had quieted his nerves.

He can't seem to make his eyes stay on you for long, though that doesn't stop your gaze from lingering - he can practically feel every place your eyes land as you study him. "S'no problem." He shrugs.

"Well, I guess I'd better go see what Rick wants..." you sigh, making no noticeable effort to go anywhere.

You're leaving a space for him to say something but he doesn't really have anything to add to that. "Yeah." He replies dumbly.

A soft smile grows upon your lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Some of us actually enjoy your company." You nudge his shoulder good-naturedly as you walk away.

He mulls over your words, trying dissect what that last little bit means. You were just being kind, right? He's pretty sure people have barely put up with his company, let alone enjoyed it. Realizing you've already been gone for multiple minutes he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and trudges off, noting that there's at least a few hours of good daylight left to make use of. But those thoughts are still there, nagging, toying with him.

---

A couple of days later, when Daryl returns to his camp after a successful enough trip into the woods, there sits your well-loved guidebook. It's laying on the ground where you must've set it when you stopped by earlier and forgotten it when the two of you headed out. He picks it up, flipping through the bent pages and your frequent notes when he passes one that makes him stop and turn back. Next to chanterelle mushrooms you've scribbled 'Daryl - pair w/ venison' . He hadn't caught game that big since back at the quarry, and even then the geeks got to it first. A small swell of pride rises within him at the thought of you planning ahead in this way, of you counting on him to provide.

The feeling follows him as he settles down for the night. Pulling out a flashlight he figures he might as well see if there's anything he can learn from your book... Or maybe that's just an excuse to search for more of your annotations. He'll have another return to make in the morning, but he can't quite bring himself to mind all that much.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

why not me?

pair: Percy Jackson x reader

summary: Percy is dating Annabeth but y/n(she/her) has been Percy's only best friend, besides Grover, and she's had a crush on him for years now, even before they knew he was a demigod

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You sit at the edge of the campfire, your knees pulled to your chest as you watch Percy and Annabeth laugh across from you. Grover's somewhere to your left, probably foraging for more marshmallows, but you’re too focused on them to care.

Percy’s smile is bright, his sea-green eyes crinkling at the corners, and every laugh he gives sends a pang through your chest. You’ve known him for years—long before either of you even knew what a demigod was. Before the monsters, the quests, the gods. When he was just Percy, your best friend who lived down the street, the one you could always count on.

Now he has Annabeth, and the "what ifs" and "why not me?" consume you every day.

You were there before all this started. The thought races through your mind as you absently twirl a blade of grass between your fingers. You knew him when he couldn’t even pass math, when his biggest worry was keeping his ADHD in check during class, when you two would spend hours at the park just talking. You were the one who stuck by him when the world didn’t make sense, but now, sitting across from him, you feel like a background character in your own life.

Annabeth is perfect, you think, your gaze flickering to her. Of course she is. Daughter of Athena. Smart, brave, beautiful. You can’t compete with that. You’ve tried to stop comparing yourself to her, but it’s impossible. Every time you see them together, you can’t help but notice how effortless it is for her. The way she fits into Percy’s life like she’s always belonged there. The way she’s everything you’re not.

You glance down at your hands. What did she have that you didn’t? She was brilliant. Fearless. Meanwhile, you’re just... you. Ordinary, human, flawed in all the ways Annabeth is perfect. You don’t have godly parents, you don’t have that kind of courage. No matter how hard you try, you’ll always feel like you’re not enough.

“Hey, Y/N, you good?”

Percy's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to find his concerned eyes on you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, but it also aches because he’s not really seeing you. Not in the way you want him to.

You force a smile, the same one you’ve been using for years now. “Yeah, of course. Just tired.”

Annabeth throws you a glance, and for a moment, you wonder if she can tell. You’ve gotten good at pretending—pretending you’re happy for them, pretending it doesn’t hurt every time you see them hold hands, pretending you don’t lie awake at night asking yourself why you weren’t enough.

Percy gives you a soft grin, one that you’ve seen a million times before but never get tired of. "You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight."

Quiet. Right. You’ve been biting your tongue so hard lately it’s a wonder you can still speak around him. You nod, your throat tight. “I’m fine, Percy. Really.”

He shrugs, seemingly satisfied, before turning his attention back to Annabeth. And just like that, the moment is gone. You’re invisible again.

As you watch them talk, your mind drifts to all the times you’ve wondered if things would’ve been different if you’d just spoken up sooner. If you’d told Percy how you felt before he and Annabeth got together, would he have seen you then? Would he have realized that you were always the one who stood by his side, that you loved him long before he was the son of Poseidon, long before any of this?

Or maybe you were just never meant to be more than the best friend. Maybe that’s your role, and you were foolish to think you could ever be anything else.

You hear Annabeth laugh at something Percy says, and it twists in your gut like a knife. She doesn’t even have to try, does she? Everything comes naturally to her—the love, the adventure, the destiny. And here you are, desperately trying to keep your smile intact, trying not to let the cracks show.

Why not me? The question echoes in your head again, louder this time. What does she have that I don’t?

You hate that you’re thinking this way. Annabeth doesn’t deserve your jealousy—she’s never been anything but kind to you. She’s never treated you like you were lesser, but that’s how you feel, anyway. Less than her. Less than what Percy deserves.

You swallow the bitterness building in your chest and stand up abruptly. “I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you say, keeping your voice as steady as you can.

Grover has finally returned with the marshmallows, and he offers you a confused look, his hand halfway to the fire. “But we haven’t even started roasting yet!”

You force a smile. “I’m just really tired. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Percy frowns again, but he doesn’t press. “Alright. Night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” You turn away quickly, before the tears in your eyes can betray you.

As you walk toward your cabin, the weight of it all crushes down on you. The laughter behind you fades, but the pain doesn’t. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that’s threatening to spill over.

You wonder how long you’ll be able to keep pretending, how long you can keep wearing this mask. How long before Percy realizes the truth?

But then again, maybe he never will. Maybe you’ll spend the rest of your life standing in the shadows, loving him from a distance, wishing things were different.

[moonlightsolo]

Can you do one of neteyam and avatar reader you love art so he lets you paint on him and he’s really cute and interested in your passion <3

omg yes THANK U FOR THIS. i love to paint irl so i had so much fun writing this!

your legs straddle neteyams hips, sitting atop of him as he lays down on his back against a bed of moss. it’s normal to sit on him like this when you’re simply having a conversation, especially when he comes back after a long day of hunting; he usually swoops you off of your feet and takes you somewhere private in the forest. mostly to catch up…

…and to do some other things you can’t usually do around camp. he knows you miss him when he’s away, so we wants to soak up as much of you during his free time.

your hands are currently busy illustrating your day as you talk, “so kiri and i made paints today, we went out and foraged for plants to create these super bright pigments!” you exclaim excitedly, “i have pinks, blues, reds, oranges, even whites!” you count on your fingers, “they’re all so beautiful. i just can’t wait to try them out.”

neteyam watches you in awe from his position, a permanent grin on his lips. he adores you so much, and hearing you passionately ramble about one of your hobbies fills his heart with joy.

“my love, you are sooooo beautiful.” he blurts out, his eyes sparkle under the sunlight that streaks through the trees towering above your bodies. he can’t help but let his hand knead at your thigh.

you can’t help but giggle at his compliment as you stare down at him, “did you hear anything i just said?”

the boy underneath you hums in response, the sound vibrates your body, “yeah… you made paints with kiri… blah, blah, blah, aaand now i wanna see you make somethin’ with them.”

your face brightens at his words, “wait really?!” you shriek softly from the pure excitement that fills you.

neteyam cackles and digs his head back into the ground, “yes, of course, ma syulang.” the little nickname makes your heart flutter in satisfaction. his flower.

“where? i can go back to camp real quick to grab some paper— or try to find something around here…” your eyes look around the expanse of the jungle around you, but the tightening grip on your hips makes you spin your head back to look down at him.

“no, i don’t want you to leave me.” he whines as his touchy hands slide up your sides. his fingers press into the flesh of your lower back to push you towards him, lowering your torso so your chests are flush again each other.

his lips ghost over yours teasingly, making you giggle into the very little space between your faces. “how about you just use me?” he mumbles.

“use you? what do you mean?” your face crinkles in confusion, slightly lifting up from his face by pushing your hands on his chest.

“to paint— ya know, on me.” his eyes flutter over your face with a sheepish grin.

“you want me to paint on you?” you almost gasp in shock, mouth falling open as you grin.

“i just said that.” neteyam rolls his eyes playfully with a cheeky smirk, which makes you swat at his chest. you finally fill the space between your faces by kissing him, giving him a long peck before sitting up.

neteyams lips chase after yours, following you up and leaning back on his elbows. you busy yourself looking through the bag that crosses over your chest and sits on your hip. you grab the containers of your paint, and push down on his shoulder to have him lay back down.

“fine..” he grumbles, giving up his advances to try and kiss you some more. you lay out the containers over the long expanse of his torso, using him as your easel.

you pluck a few brushes from the pocket inside your bag, smiling as your finger brushes over the soft bristles. “what do you want painted on you?” your voice is soft, almost nervous.

what if it turns out to be ugly and he has to walk around with an ugly painting on his body from his girlfriend?

“anything.” he lays back with his arms behind his head, slightly wiggling his hips under you to get comfortable. the subtle movement makes you blush from the heat that settles in your lower belly.

you pop open the bright fuschia color, dipping your brush inside of the container to soak the brush. your eyes dart over his smug face as you lean closer to his chest to focus.

the brush moves smoothly across the expanse of his upper body, swirling the paint over his collarbone and down his pectoral muscle, “ooh that tickles.” he jerks under the paintbrush, making you giggle and sit up to look at him with a joking scowl.

“sit still, you’re gonna mess up my art.” you slightly dip into the orange color to highlight the pink, flicking the paint to make little spikes around the swirl.

neteyam admires your face as you focus, almost cooing at you from your little tongue sticking out between your lips. he tilts his head to the side watch your tail sway in the air behind you. all he wants is to grab you and kiss all over your cute little face.

one of his hands unravel from behind his head to rest on top of your head, his thumb swipes across your forehead to smooth out the crinkle between your eyebrows.

you smile up at him bashfully while your hand continues to paint different colors across his striped blue skin. the pigments you picked out contrast greatly to the color of his skin, his chest slowly becoming a piece of art.

the brush pokes at his chest as you create random dots around the swirls, smiling when you sit back to admire your work. “i love it.” you mumble before hunching back down to continue with a different color.

neteyams eyes dart from between you and the blue sky that barely peeks through the canopy of the trees. he can look at all the beauty around him but all he can focus on is you. the girl who is straddling his chest and painting ever so softly across his skin.

he wouldn’t dare to tell you this though. he’s too scared to share his true feelings that he's falling for you faster than he thinks you're falling for him.

after about a few more minutes, and swipes of different colors you sit up to examine the painting that cascades down his chest. you add a few more dots with a triumphant smile, “i really outdid myself.” you laugh proudly as you pack away your painting supplies.

“oh did you?” neteyam chuckles, bringing his chin down to look over his colorful chest. his mouth drops dramatically once he sees it, “it’s amazing. seriously, you’re going to paint only me from now on. never will anybody else touch me with paint unless it’s from your hands.”

your hands cover your grin that seemingly seems like it will never falter, “stop it…” you breathe out, shaking your head from his silly words.

“no, you’re like magic. i’ve seen your other work, but i cannot grasp how your brilliant little mind works like this.” he sits up from his spot, now face-to-face with you; he’s careful to not crease the wet paint. one of his hands grip your wrists to pull them away from your face.

“‘teyam…” you sheepishly mumble, staring down at your lap with a shy smile. the feeling of heat travels from your lower belly to your upper extremities. it settles on your cheeks, and the tips of your ears with as a pink glow. he could praise you a million times, and you still wouldn’t be used to it.

“hhhmm? am i making you blush?” he teases you as his hand slides down from your cheek to your chin to angle your face up. his big round eyes look over your face, his smile mirroring yours.

“you aaarrrre.” you whine, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.

he continues to stare at you though his eyelashes, “good. i like making you blush.” he pecks your nose, “especially if it’s when i compliment my very talented girl.”

your hands swat at his chest playfully, “oh hush.” you grumble.

neteyam places his large hands onto your hips, his long fingers thrum against your lower back, “i think it’s time we go show off the beautiful art my gorgeous girl made. you'll make everyone in the clan jealous.” his knees angle up to press against your back, you're now sitting in the valley of his body.

neteyam stands to his full height, holding onto your hips as he rises from the ground. you let out a delighted cackle from the sudden movement, throwing your head back as you laugh.

neteyam's eyes dance over your face, unable to hold himself back from chuckling along with you; your laugh is contagious.

"i am so lucky to have you..." his voice trails off, his eyes try to take in every detail of you-- how your braids flow down your back, and the paint that is smeared across your forehead and slightly on your cheekbone...

your hands rest on the sides of his neck, your face brightening from his words. "neteyam... i love you." you whisper into the space between your lips.

the biggest grin spreads across his face from hearing her say those words; the first time you've ever said it to each other. her response only make his heart beat faster, and his breathing more intense. "i love you." he whispers back as he leans forward to give you another soft kiss.

it feels as if he's falling into an abyss surrounded by you, unable to crawl out. it's not like he would want to anyway, his senses are clouded by your lips, and your scent, and how your legs are wrapped tightly around his hips right now. he smiles into the passionate kiss, now knowing that his only purpose in life is to be alongside you.

-

this is what i used as inspo for the painting on him :p i found it on pinterest

[paperultra]

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck’s Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,678 words Warnings: Swearing Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you’re too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they’re too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much … so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #2: MUSHROOM FORAGING Forest — 1 Mushrooms — 29 Nostalgia — to taste

To make things clear: you had always expected Chilchuck to resent you for leaving him. Regardless of whatever he had felt for you at the time (and it hurts, even now, that you couldn’t be certain about those feelings), your husband had a strong fondness for clear terms and conditions, and as your marriage deteriorated you remember thinking how bad a sin it would be to provide none for your disappearance.

So that is exactly what you did.

You wanted him to resent you. Being resented meant you were a person, that you took up not just space but attention, and that you weren’t just a silent fixture in the home that Chilchuck drank and slept in. You wanted him to understand the frustration of reaching out to someone who wouldn’t reach back. So you left him. It was petty and unconstructive and cruel and –

And it affected him.

In your heart you had known that, and you had counted on it, fearing no repercussions because while Chilchuck was protective, he was never controlling. He would resent you for leaving, but he would not follow.

You just hadn’t considered that his ability to let you go was a punishment in and of itself.

But now?

Now, as you stand at the edge of the trees outside of Kahka Brud, your imagination spirals around the possibility that he hadn’t let you go, but simply let his resentment fester until you came crawling back, gullible and perfectly dressed for a one-way trip down a forest cliff. He had been an adventurer, after all. He would know how to handle bodies.

“There you are.”

Jumping underneath your skin, you turn to see Chilchuck just a few paces away.

“O-Oh. Hi.” He’s wearing the cowl Flertom had sent him, and as he waves at you, you pet your own cowl self-consciously and try not to think about how evenly matched the two of you must look. “You know, when I said we could talk, I was expecting it to be indoors.”

“I figured it’d be easier if we were doing something at the same time. Besides, I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with me at your place or you at mine.”

“So you decided to bring me out to the middle of the woods with no witnesses?”

You don’t mean to sound so serious, but the way his eyes widen doesn’t help much at all.

He scoffs. “No witnesses? You don’t seriously think that I would …”

You lack the good sense to laugh it off, and a sliver of horror and offense slips through his expression.

“Look,” he exclaims, “I’m not gonna lie and say I was never mad at you, but I wouldn’t off you in the middle of the woods!”

You grimace, wanting to shrink inside yourself once he says it aloud. Of course. This is Chilchuck you’re talking about. This is the man with whom you had shared meals, sown fields and raised children. Even at his worst, he’d never laid a hand on you. Murder? Why would you even think –?

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m just – nervous, I guess,” you blurt, regret filling the space between your words. “I just don’t know what to expect from all of this.”

“Well, rest assured, you’ll come out alive and well,” Chilchuck replies sardonically.

“I’m sorry.”

He stares at you before taking a deep breath. “… It’s fine.” He exhales in a way that tells you it is not in fact fine, and you wring your hands shamefully as he scratches his head. “We can go somewhere with more people around.”

“No, I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure,” you insist, inwardly cursing yourself for setting such a sour mood. You’re the one who agreed to this. Remain civil. “So what are we doing, anyway?”

Though he still seems a bit put off, Chilchuck holds out a wicker basket towards you. “Mushroom foraging,” he says in Half-Foot, village drawl creeping in along the syllables and peeling the ends off the words. 

You blink, then laugh.

“I haven’t done that since Puck moved out.”

“Me neither. But apparently this is a good place to do it, and it’s pretty early so not a lot of people are around.”

You take the basket from him, and the two of you wade deeper into the forest.

The dirt-wet smell of fallen leaves and the scurrying of hidden critters dig up memories from an old life. Your home village was surrounded by a forest much like this one, and you remember yourself, small and tucked away in layers of wool, scrambling to pick the biggest, best-smelling mushrooms for your family’s dinner. Chilchuck, buried in his own warm clothes, would complain that you wanted to hog all the mushrooms, but after poor harvests he’d always sneak a few more from his basket into yours when you weren’t looking.

(It was a habit that he never completely shook, even after you discovered it – making sure you had enough, even if it meant having less for himself, and pretending that he didn’t mind either way.)

After what feels like an eternity walking in silence, you reach a small dip in the forest floor. A large tree had fallen across it, and jutting out from the softening wood are the bread-brown shelves of your first fungi.

“Here,” Chilchuck finally speaks again, and he hands you a small knife. “Forgot to give you this.”

The unspoken Do you feel safer now? lingers between the two of you like a bad taste. You accept the knife with doleful thanks and start cutting into the base of the mushroom alongside him.

It’s quiet again, and you tolerate it until you can’t.

“You’re still upset.”

“I said it’s fine. Not like I don’t deserve it, anyway.”

Irritation prickles your tongue on instinct but dies just as quickly. “No,” you say, dropping a chunk of mushroom into your basket and facing him fully. “I’m not going to accept that.” Like I had so many times before. “I assumed something terrible about you, so please just tell me how you feel about it.”

Chilchuck scowls and clicks his tongue. “I –” he cuts himself off and sighs. His eyes close, expression loosening, and when he opens them again, it’s to look at the ground. “I’m still not too good at that,” he murmurs.

“Just be honest. That’s all I’m asking.”

His eyebrows twitch. You wait.

“… If you say so.” He busies himself with a ham-of-the-forest, avoiding your gaze. His voice peters out to a tone that only a half-foot can decipher. “Yeah, I’m still upset. I’ve never hit you or talked or even thought about hurting you physically. Ever. So honestly, I hate knowing that you don’t feel safe around me anymore.”

Something tells you that another apology is unwanted, so you swallow it down. “That’s fair,” you say, carefully weighing your words. “I … I really don’t think you’d put me in danger. But like I said earlier, it’s just that I don’t know what to expect, so my mind keeps making up worst-case scenarios. We haven’t spoken in so long and I”—you hesitate—“I didn’t know if you were still angry with me for … for leaving you.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.” He makes eye contact with you, and your heart grows heavy at the defeat in his shoulders. “But whenever I sit still long enough to think about it, I still get upset at myself. I was a shit husband.”

“So why now?”

“Huh?”

You clarify. “Why reach out now all of a sudden?”

“Because if I don’t, I never will.” Chilchuck chews his lower lip. He reaches out to cut another mushroom but then pauses, almost sounding shy as he mumbles, “And if it’s one thing I learned from my last dungeon job, it’s that you shouldn’t push away the people you care about.”

Your eyes widen.

“S-So that’s how I feel. Your turn.”

You open your mouth, close it, then open it again like a befuddled clam. You do this a few times before Chilchuck’s eyebrow twitches.

“Don’t go twisting my ears,” he mutters, though the quip is blunted by the red in his cheeks.

“Sorry, it’s just – this is the most open you’ve been with me since you started adventuring,” you say, hand over your mouth.

“It weirds you out, huh.”

“No! Well, a little bit. But not in a bad way.” Your voice quiets, embarrassed. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment. Then, as if jolted by lightning, you resume your mushroom harvesting with renewed gusto. Chilchuck cuts one last decent shelf of fungi from the tree, and then the both of you climb out of the dip and towards the faint sound of a bubbling creek.

By this time, your face has finally cooled down, allowing another question marinating in your mind to make its way into the light. “Are you still living in the same house?” you ask, examining tree roots as you pass by them.

“No. I rented it out to Lilituck and her family. I’m in a smaller place closer to the Island.”

“Lilituck moved to Khaka Brud? I didn’t know.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t really been in the loop for a while.”

“I guess not.” You wrinkle your nose. Everyone back home noses into each other’s business as a matter of principle, and other than the sparse letters you’re obliged to exchange with your mother, you haven’t involved yourself for some time. You just know your and Chilchuck’s separation circulated like wildfire when the village first got wind of it. “Do you talk to them a lot?”

“Not really. Maybe every once in a while – oi.” He suddenly ushers you around a large rock, and though his hand does not touch your back, you can nearly feel the print of it hovering over your cloak. “Watch your step.”

“I am,” you protest, only half-fibbing.

“Sure.” He withdraws. You sense a hesitation that he quickly tucks away into his pocket. “Anyway, the last time I talked to them was last winter about fixing something at the house. That’s it.”

There’s a stout pair of mushrooms up a slope a few feet away. You point them out, and Chilchuck climbs up after you, remarking something about watching out for tripping hazards while you roll your eyes at his preoccupation. It’s not entirely unjustified, as the fallen leaves are thick and hide tangles of broken branches, but you stay upright and reach your destination without incident.

“These are healer’s caps.”

Chilchuck hums in agreement. You squat down to feel the round tops. They’re soft, almost leathery, and smell sweet. As your fingers trail down to grasp the stem of one of the mushrooms, Chilchuck crouches down as well.

“What?” you ask.

There are tones that waver in his throat before he clears it. Chilchuck breathes in slowly, and the relaxation that had been slowly building up over the past half-hour comes to a standstill.

It is hardly surprising when he asks, “When did you know you were going to leave?”

You pick the mushroom. “… It’s hard to say.”

“Humor me.”

The healer’s cap rolls over in your hands. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you put the mushroom into your basket, wiping the dirt from your fingertips.

“I guess I started thinking about it after we had that argument about when you’d stop going into the dungeons. I don’t know if you remember it.” The silence tells you that he does. “You said it wasn’t my job to complain about something I didn’t know anything about. And I said I didn’t know anything about it because you never talked about your work. And then a few days later, you brought me to have dinner with your party.”

“Right,” Chilchuck mumbles. “You were in a bad mood that night on the way home.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I guess partly because I was jealous.”

He lets out a noise of disbelief. “Of who? I never –”

“Not like that, Chilchuck.” Setting your basket on the ground beside you, you rest your chin in your hand and look over to see him staring at you, perplexed. “I sat with you and your work friends, and you were all relaxed and laughing about stories I had never heard from you.” A laugh puffs out from between your teeth, bitter from years past now that it’s all dug up. “And I realized that I really didn’t know anything about your life out there without me, and that it was a lot bigger than your life with me.”

That’s the selfish truth of it, isn’t it? You had never wanted a glamorous life. A small life was all you had ever needed; caring for a home and raising three kids were both things you had loved. But kids grow up and a house starts feeling less like a home when you’re the only one there for days on end, and as you trailed behind your husband that night, it had dawned on you that your small life had shrunk to something you could barely recognize.

Mere existence, like an afterthought.

When Chilchuck responds, it’s in a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not. We never got around to talking about things like that.”

“Because I was a coward.” He sounds pained. “I made you feel alone.”

Yes, you think, you came home but you always left half your dinner on your plate and nothing in your mug and answered with one or two sentences and fell asleep before we could say goodnight to each other. And it felt like that was everything you could give, and I still felt alone.

You lift your shoulders in some semblance of a shrug.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Picking the second healer’s cap, you stand up and offer it to him, inches from his chest. You smile wryly. “I can tell.”

Quietly, Chilchuck takes the mushroom. His eyes are glossy and you look away before the sight begins to hurt too much.

You reach the creek not long after that, following it for a bit, absorbing the cold, trickling sound in between your breathing and heartbeats before moving on. And although you find it difficult at first, conversation eventually trickles back between the two of you, turning to the girls, work, spices to use with the harvest. Perhaps all of it distracts you; before you know it, the sun has climbed in the sky and it’s time to start heading back.

Once you and Chilchuck reach the edge of the forest, you set your baskets down and sort through everything. There ends up being quite a bit less than you are used to. Chilchuck insists on a seventy-thirty split, what with there being two people in your household compared to his one, but your stubbornness is able to whittle it down to sixty-forty. Carrying out the compromise is another challenge, however.

“I saw that,” you say sharply as his sneaky fingers attempt to put another mushroom into your basket. “That’s yours.”

“It’s Fler’s favorite.”

“No, it’s not. Put it back.”

“I don’t –”

“‘I don’t want it’ – that’s what you always say,” you exclaim, catching it before it lands onto your pile. Tossing it at his face does nothing as his reflexes snatch it up even quicker than yours had. “There. You can hardly have a full meal with your share as it is.”

“So what? If that happens, I guess I’ll just have to go and steal whatever you’re making,” he retorts.

Whether it’s for his sake or yours, you ignore the small tensing of his shoulders at the declaration, merely hiking your skirt up to walk away with a haughty scoff.

“Good luck with that!”

(Perhaps you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. Just a little bit.)

The sunlight warms your face as you enter the open field once again. Chilchuck joins you soon enough, and though he hides it within his cowl, you can hear him grin.

—

prev

[st4rymoon]

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘢𝘥

✶Joel Miller x Fem Reader ✶

Context: Joel decided to let you take watch while he takes a nap, but wakes up to you midway through an attempt to get some fresh air from the stuffy enclosure of the truck after he told you the one and only rule. Stay in the truck.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is early twenties and Joel is in his late 40s), oral (m receiving), arguing, grumpy Joel, language, lists of sexual tension, very vocal Joel <3

“Give me the damn map!” Joel seethed, ripping it out of your hands in frustration as you jumped slightly in your seat. “I tell you to do one thing, one fuckin’ thing!” he muttered.

You were angry at Joel and yourself. You blame yourself for not learning how to read a map, but after all, there was no need for that in your life before the world turned upside down. “I told you I didn’t know what I was doing Joel! You don’t even bother to tell me how to read it or where we are,” you replied back in the exact cruel tone Joel used.

He gave you an infuriated look before he returned to reading the map. Joel decided to go nonverbal for the rest of the drive once he found his way back onto the freeway. Both of you sat in silence, your hands between your thighs as you anxiously bit your lower lip.

It was pitch black outside, the highlights of the truck only lighting up a short distance ahead. You noticed Joel's tired eyes. He was exhausted, so you decided to break the silence.

“You look tired. Why don’t you let me drive? It’s just straight down the highway, and we have a few hours left,” you said. “Let you drive? For you can get us lost again, no way,” he scoffed yet again.

“Fine, let's just pull over then. I’ll keep a lookout while you sleep.”

“I’m fine, not tired,” he sighs as he relaxes into his seat. Not even four minutes later, Joel almost hits an abandoned car as his eyes begin to slowly drift into sleep. He listens to you for once and pulls over into a small section of woods. “I told you,” you sighed as Joel made his way to the back seats.

He laughed sarcastically as he got comfortable and lectured you about what to do if you saw anyone, which is always to wake him up. “Remember, stay in the truck” he repeated for the millionth time.

A few minutes passed once you turned back to see Joel softly snoring with his mouth wide open. He always was one to drool in his sleep. You smiled to yourself, turning back around and getting comfortable.

You felt lucky to have met Joel, although he was almost always a bit hostile and cold to you. You blamed it on the whole zombie apocalypse situation. You’d run into each other while foraging for some food at a rusty old gas station and decided to stick together since then.

Life has consisted of shitty canned beans and a grumpy, bickering old man, but it’s safe. It’s perfect considering the conditions around the world.

Everything was going as expected while on your patrol. You sat in the front seat, poking your head up out of the sunroof every now and then. Making sure Joel was still asleep, you decided to sit on the sunroof, remove your shoes, and try your best not to make any noise.

Due to Joel's animal-like senses, he awoke the second your shoe made a slight thump. His eyes slightly opened, and he was faced with you removing your shirt, his eyes widening as you tossed it somewhere on your seat.

His eyes admired how your soft skin seemed to glow even when swallowed by darkness. You let out a frustrated moan at the heat inside the cramped truck and fanned yourself before pulling yourself up onto the roof.

Once Joel noticed you were trying to get onto the sunroof, his hand gripped your ankle and pulled you back into the stuffy truck. “Joel!” you gasped as you fell back and held onto his forearms.

He was still lying on his side as he glared at you in annoyance. “It’s fucking hot in here. I was just getting some fresh air and a better look out” you seethed. “When I tell you to stay in the truck, I mean stay in the fuckin’ truck, not on top of it” he groaned as he sat back up.

You didn’t know where to move as his legs kept you trapped between the front seats. You were uncomfortably sitting on the tiny armrest as he watched you squirm.

He felt like it was wrong of him to notice your tits nearly fall out of your cups as you reached back for your shirt. For fuck sake, you were in your early twenties, and he was in his late 40s.

Your tee was in your hands once you noticed Joel’s cheeks blush a soft red color. You glared down at yourself and laughed. “You’ve never seen a pair of tits or what?” you chuckled.

You’d never seen Joel stutter, ever.

“I- I, of course I have. It’s just-” he was cut off by how you chuckled. “Is Mr. Joel Miller nervous?” you tease with an accomplished pout. Joel tried to compose himself as he listened to you tease him.

“Watch it, missy” Joel scoffed as he put his shoes back on. All he needed to do was keep his hands, eyes, and lips to himself if he wanted to stay composed. How hard could that be?

Both of you sat there, unsure of what to do next as the tension grew. Everything was professional and platonic before this road trip, but by the way you both were eyeing each other at the moment, you knew there was something hidden inside both of you.

“And why are you flirtin’ and battin’ those pretty lashes at an old man like me?” he hummed. Your eyes widened in surprise as you finally heard something other than a scolding or an irritated scoff from him.

You smiled as you leaned closer to him. “I’m not battin’ nothin’,” you teased in his southern accent.

A groan left Joel’s lips as you sat on his lap, a side of you he’d never seen with his own eyes. “I’m just playing around, teasing.”You coyly smiled as his breath hitched at the friction of your hips. “But if I was flirting with an old man like you, it’s because I’d wanna see how easy it would be to make you hard,” you mocked.

He chuckled, his hands snaked onto your hip.“Just as easy as makin’ you jump on my lap and fuck yourself onto me, that’s how easy,” he bit back. “Well, when you look this good, how am I not to?” you pouted as you ran your hands through his hair.

Joel let out the prettiest moans as you played with his hair, silver locks tangling into your fingers as his head fell between your chest.

You shakily moaned as he bit a soft mark onto your plump tit and rewarded you with a soft hum. “I’m no good for you darlin’.”

Joel’s voice was breathy and scruffy as he purred onto your chest. His calloused hands ran up your back, playing with the flimsy material of your bra.

“I know what’s good for me.” you moaned while you dragged your hands down his flannel, slowly unbuttoning it while you both fucked each other through your clothes. “Mmh… You think I’m good for you?” he chuckled as his lips dragged up your neck and softly bit at your flesh.

You nodded in agreement as a flustered moan escaped your lips. Joel was so warm it was comforting, and the once stuffy car is no longer a problem for you as Joel’s hand moves you to face him.

“Answer me with words. I know you can.” he mocks as you continue to grind onto his lap.

“Yes, you’re good for me Joel, the only thing that’s good for me.” you shakily moaned into his palm. His large hand was wrapped around your mouth, watching you in amusement and desperation.

“That’s cute, honey. But we gotta keep a lookout?” he huffed as you pushed his hands out of your way and kissed his scruffy jaw.

Joel was trying his best to keep this situation under control, but with every pretty moan you let out, he lost an inch of sanity.

“Then keep a lookout.” You smiled onto his cheeks as you began to drift down to your knees. You heard a gasp leave his lips as you pressed your cheek onto his lap. “no distractions.” you purred as you hugged his waist.

You could feel him bulging through his jeans as you kissed his abdomen. “You’re real quiet Joel.” You smile up at him, and the sight you’re met is Joel with his fist clenched, mouth ajar, and forehead sweaty as he holds himself back.

Joel didn’t see himself as a man without self-control. In fact, he mastered it over the years, but he wasn’t as strong as he believed.

His muddy jeans were at his ankles, and his calloused fist held your hair up as he runted your mouth. You were teary-eyed and gagging as he gasped and moaned about how good you felt.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s experienced something this good. He was seeing stars as you worked your tongue around his base and up to his tip. “For fuc- fuck sake! Oh my god- jus’ like that” Joel was muttering to himself as he stared into your eyes.

“Just a pretty little thing, you’d be my personal pornstar if we had a camera” he seethed as you held onto his thighs for support. You noticed his thighs slightly begin to shake, prompting you to pick up your pace and hollow your cheeks.

The guttural moan that left Joel was animalistic and lewd as he held you still. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him twitch into your mouth. Joel gasped for air as he rode out his high while his fingers buried in your hair.

“Ah- just like that darlin’ f- FUCK!” His jaw went slack as you slurped up his base and swallowed everything he gave you. Joel was still gasping for air as his hand ran down your hair reassuringly. You watched with a smile on your face as he swallowed his saliva and moaned one last time before his eyes opened up to admire you.

“I can be your little porn star huh?” you cooed as you lifted up from between his thighs and sloppily kissed him. Both of you let out a chuckle before he lifted you off his lap to fix himself back into his boxers.

“What did we get ourselves into”

[sturn-wrld]

🪼first time

pairing: matt x reader

summary: where reader decides she is ready for matt to take her v card

genre: SMUT!!! if that makes you uncomfortable dni!

warnings: protected sex, oral (fem receiving), nicknames

a/n: day 7 of smutmas. the wag if finished this 7 minutes before i posted this instead of 2 days because i suck at time management 🫨. idk how to feel about this one.

masterlist

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

you and matt had been dating for around 3 months now. you really liked him and really trusted him, so much that you had told him that you were a virgin. obviously his reaction was positivity and patience. since then there had been times where things started to get steamy but you pulled away because you weren't ready and matt just responded with affirming sayings. "it's okay baby, take your time, i'll wait until your ready"

all of this made you know that today you wanted him to take your virginity.

you were sat, straddling his lap in a passionate make out session. his hands wrapped around your hips loosely and yours gripping his face, making it all that more passionate. you slowly started tracing your hands all over his body to eventually placing your hands up his shirt trying to take it off. he looks at you puzzled, "are you sure baby? i don't want you to feel like i'm rushing you or forcing you to do anything" he said depicting your facial expression as if there was any reasoning in your face. "i'm very sure matt. i trust you so much and i couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else" he looked at you reassured and continued the motions.

he slowly stripped of his black shirt as he slowly shifted the two of you so he was now laying over the top of you and continuing to make out with you. you slowly starting grinding your hips up on his as he grabbed them to stop you "stop that beautiful or i might go crazy" he said looking down at you almost as a threat "what if i want that?" you said immediately back staring into his ocean blue eyes. he just stared back before taking your lips into an aggressive but intimate kiss.

he the disconnected your lips as he started to kiss down your jawline and then neck while starting to discard your pants. as he come back level with your face he pulled off your shirt and threw both your shirt and pants somewhere in his room that didn't concern you right now. he did the same with his own pants. you were now foraging for some friction as you started rubbing your thighs together and matt went crazy when he noticed this.

"beautiful be patient" is all he said before stripping you of your lacy bra throwing it in a similar direction as the rest of your clothes. he started kissing down your neck again and continued further down the valley of your breasts and stomach until the edge of your panties. "can i take these off gorgeous?" he said caressing your thighs, his head now in between them. "please matt, i need you so bad" with that he stripped you of your underwear and observed your now soaked pussy.

"your so beautiful baby" he said before attaching his lips to your clit, your hands immediately reaching for his hair as a loud moan reached up your throat and escaped. he continued to suck as your pulled his hair, moaned and tried to close your thighs, unable to happen due to him having holding them open. suddenly he dipped his tongue into your gaping hole and a new wave of pleasure washed over your body. he just laughed as your body shakes at the sudden change of satisfaction. "you like that baby?" he asked almost sarcastically. "yes, so much keep doing that" you answered moaning at an almost yelling level.

you felt your orgasm start to build up in your stomach. "i think i'm gonna cum soon matty" you pushed out of your mouth as he continued to dip his tongue in and out of your pussy while rubbing your swollen clit. "your so good for me baby" he said while slowly kissing his back up your body, having stop the pleasure. "why'd you stop?" you asked almost whining as he reached your face. "because i want to cum all over my cock" he said seductively making you blush.

he slowly pulled of his boxers to reveal his massive length now slapped against his stomach. you just stared at his absolute massive length. "you like what you see babe?" he said staring at you. you just hummed in response as he reached for a condom that was in his bedside table. you watched him slowly slide on the condom as your pussy clenched at its absence.

he lined himself up with your pussy, "are you sure you want this baby?" he said rubbing your face with affirmation "yes. please." you said he looked at you as if you had out a love spell on him "okay baby. it's going to hurt though. you just tell me when i can move." he said looking at you for affirmation. you nodded your head as you couldn't stand the emptiness anymore. he slowly started to push himself in as you started moaning out gripping his back.

"your so tight for me beautiful. you feel so good" are some of the compliments that matt slurred out as he bottomed out. "please move matt" you begged as the pain turned to pleasure and you thought you were ready for what was to come. matt slowly started moving himself back and forth and an insanely slow pace to make sure you were feeling okay with everything.

"faster matt" you practically screamed needing more. as he continued to move in and out, you felt the overwhelming feeling again. "matt please let me cum this time" you said staring at your beautiful boyfriend as he whimpered. "okay gorgeous just wait for me" he said going even faster than the pace you were now used to.

"cum for me now princess" he said staring into your eyes as you let goat the same time, the both of you releasing a moan simultaneously before riding out your highs.

"you were so good for me beautiful" he said caressing your hair "you did good for your first time"

taglist

@its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @frozenvegitableoil @ilovemattsturn

[brellafaun]

assorted small town au ramblings

all the hargreeves kids grew up in different houses with their birth moms but still went to the same schools together. lila was a transplant from the burbs and she was dying of boredom her first year there

a small mountain town just feels right. lots of woods to explore, plenty of places to hike- small enough that everyone is close, but spacious enough that it's not suffocating

i can picture some of the boys going hunting when the season comes around. diego would probably get really into it and five would be the best with a crossbow. everyone is down for fishing and screwing around at the local lake, though

speak of, hargreeves family cookouts monthly. everyone brings something and the kids run around while the adults just chill. either hosted by diego and lila's place or at the lake's shitty park tables

Luther is a math teacher at the local middle school (he is so smart. i will die on this hill) and adores his job. all the kids think he's the coolest person they've ever met. Sloane is the geography/history teacher down the hall. they make lunches for each other and spend their prep periods together. their students FREAKED OUT when they found out they were married. he works with the local scout troops over the summers and likes canoeing the best

Diego works with the local fire department (i can't make him a cop i'm sorry) and loves it. got really into axe throwing and wanted to teach Stanley, Grace, and the twins how to do it before Lila vetoed it. deer hunts in the fall, fishes as often as possible. epitome of girl dad, those kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. best bass player in town and avid enjoyer of the local bars' battle of the bands

Allison works with local government. amazing public speaker. lives in the heart of town with Ray and Claire, happier than ever. always the first to volunteer for Claire's school events- coaches for the high school volleyball team and is the best drama coach they've ever seen. surprisingly, loves camping the most out of anyone in the group. points out every constellation (she and Luther compete to see who can name the most) when they're outdoors and makes the best s'mores

Klaus sells the crochet and knit goods they make at local markets/the town festivals. has immaculate reviews on his etsy store. somehow pulls the best thrifting hauls with Allison and Claire. goes to the lake the most out of the group- loves to swim out and relax in the water. doesn't go on the hunting or fishing trips but does know all of the edible plant species they can forage locally. roomies with Ben and has a cat named Tango. keeps picking up DIYs in order to have excuses to visit Dave down at the hardware store

Five is the group cryptid. has a cabin in the woods somewhere. almost a full-on survivalist, bound to actually go feral someday. works with the town's historical society and archives. gets lunch with Herb and Dot semi-regularly. Mr. Pennycrumb accompanies him everywhere, and nobody argues with it. cans his own food and has bees on his property (he regularly leaves jam and honey jars on the others' porches and denies doing so). either the best dressed one at the function or wearing an awful fishing/hunting pun hoodie, no in-between

Ben is a librarian, and a kickass one at that. the best at story hour (his puppeteering skills with the octopus are immaculate) and incredible with multitasking. handles a bunch of finance stuff behind the scenes (diego and klaus are hopeless with taxes, five has almost been arrested for evasion). works on his motorcycle when he has free time and rides down to the valley to visit his girlfriend. presses wildflowers and helps at the community garden

Viktor works at the local music shop, Icarus Records. Luther is his most frequent customer and has probably bought at least half of their stock at this point. he's got more music knowledge than anyone else in town. loves going out on the hiking trails to play at the peaks- it brings him a sense of peace like nothing else. volunteers with the schools to teach music. still in his teenage band with Diego and Lila. visits his mom every week and sits out on the porch with her drinking sweet tea. budding romance with the newest transplant- a recently divorced woman from texas. (her son adores him already)

Lila also works with the historical society, but as the chaotic social media/marketing manager. she gets paid to meme and that's probably her dream career. attends every PTA meeting purely to psych out the other moms. drums whenever she gets the chance, absolutely demolishing everyone at the battle of the bands. chaotic evil driver- she learned with city traffic and assumes it makes her immune to the super windy roads. steals Diego's flannels and denies it

might make a separate post about their teenage years,,,

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part fifteen preview

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. It's the most beautiful day in a while, and the warmest, too. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” The flicker of her eyes to your near-empty hand is answer enough. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh," she chirps. "Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

"He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to regard arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He looks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one, could be others." 

As you drag in a deep breath, you recognize the faint smell he must be referring to.

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

[lemonbeemon]

Where I think Miquella’s Followers were from and what their lives were like Pre-Shattering; A Short List

(Disclaimer that this is purely for fun and comprised of headcanons. I do not claim anything below as irl lore.)

Needle-Knight Leda; An orphan, probably from around Leyndell or somewhere on the Altus Plateau. Her life was misfortuned long before she met Miquella and swore herself to knighthood, so she has an unhealthy attachment to her "lord".

Redmane Freyja; A Redmane obviously, but I think her family likely originated from Limgrave. She started her career as a warrior/duelist long before she joined Radahn's army and rose through the ranks quickly due to her experience and prowess.

The Hornsent; We learn about his life a little in the dlc, but I hc him as a very different person pre-Marika and his family's death. A religious man and a homemaker, its no wonder he went insane with grief and hatred. I imagine he was absolutely WHIPPED for his wife and was the sort of dad who lets his kid put him in ridiculous outfits because it makes them happy.

Sir Ansbach; You're TRIPPING if you think this man wasn't a member of Leyndell's high society prior to meeting Mohg. The grace, the class, the educated mentality. This man was likely a noble or wealthy educator of some kind, and I hc that he was the organizer behind most of Mohg's ambitions & early cult years. He taught Mohg to be a leader of class and wit, and Mohg taught him to embrace his bloodlust. In my mind, they were together from the beginning and now Ansbach is alone.

Thiollier; There is a somewhat popular theory that this weak kitten boi is a surviving member of the Shaded Castle. AKA the noble House Marais. And you know what? They're right. Not only is he french-coded, this youthful tarnished was almost certainly wrote to reflect the emotional outcome of child neglect/abuse. Before meeting Saint Trina, it's clear he had little to live for. Like Leda, I hc that his childhood plays a large part in his obsessive personality towards a "savior" figure.

Sir Moore; This sweet pest obviously grew up in the Land of Shadow. I hc that he was in fact born a member of the forager brood & spent his young years exploring old ruins and unearthing unique "treasures" of the Hornsent v. Messmer war. Later, he learned incantations through the Rot to transform himself into a more human appearance and was likely the first to join Leda and Dane when they followed Miquella through the veil. He was always a valued member of the group, and I imagine Leda and Dane were too soft on him to consider killing him in timeline where the Tarnished convinces him to stay out of the final battle.

Dryleaf Dane; A reserved man, he was likely born to somewhere on the Altus Plateau and became a missionary for the Golden Order. He left the Lands Between long ago to spread the word of Marika, and likely went so far West he was in the East once more. I hc that he spent over a decade in the Land of Reeds learning martial arts, and likely only returned to the Lands Between Post-Shattering. Dane gives big "white man goes to Japan to learn how to be a Samurai" energy, the kind from those old movies your dad loves (you know the ones)

[asocial-lobster]

The Hunter's Trap

A high-pitched howl cut through the forest, and Wild whipped his head out of the bush he was currently foraging for berries. A moment of indecisiveness followed as he frantically tried to pinpoint the right direction. His ear flickered when a much quieter whine came from somewhere to his left. He quickly threw the berries, not even bothering to store them in his slate, and then he was off.

Wild's heart hammered in his throat as he ran. He didn't think he'd ever heard a howl like that from Twilight before, and his mind was racing with theories as to what had happened: moblins, lynels, yiga, the Shadow-

Wild was so occupied with his own anxiety that he nearly rammed into a tree. A startled bark met him when he finally managed to untangle himself from the branches.

Twilight – or Wolfie, Wild supposed – was sitting a few feet away. His fur stood out from his body like a hedgehog's spikes, which made him look twice as big as normal. His ears and tail were tucked against his body until they almost disappeared in the ruffled fur.

Wild scanned his brother for injuries. It took him a moment to register what was wrong.

The chain Twilight always carried ... it was on the right front leg instead of the left. 

No, that wasn't it. The usual one was clasped as firmly as ever around the left leg. But what was that metallic glint around his right, then?

Wild stretched out a hand to brush the fur aside and earned himself a growl. He looked away from the leg and up at his brother's eyes. Brown and gentle, no matter the form he took. Today, they were also panicked and filled with pain.

"I won't touch it if you don't want me to," Wild said. "But will you at least let me have a look? So that I can see what's wrong?"

Twilight huffed and visibly tried to relax. He gave a sharp nod more akin to a human's than a wolf's, then grit his teeth. Wild stretched forward again, careful not to break his promise and touch it by accident.

He froze when he found the cause of Twilight's pain.

The metallic glint came from a chain. It was fastened to the ground and snaked its way towards Twilight's leg. A large clasp with iron spikes was fastened to the chain, and the spikes dug into Twilight's leg, blood oozing out of the brutal wound. 

A bear trap.

Something burningly hot crawled through the soles of Wild's boots and up through his entire body, like the forest itself was sharing its anger with him. 

A bear trap.

Those were dangerous and, frankly, cruel to use. Any wanderer might be caught in it, and even if the trap did find its intended target, it promised hours – if not days – of agony for the poor animal before it could be put down by a hunter.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out," Wild promised. He gestured to the trap. "May I?"

Twilight gave him a low boof of consent and whined again. Wild bowed down once more to examine the trap more thoroughly.

The trap looked well-cared for with no rust along the edges. The claws were tightly held together by a set of springs along each side. 

Wild found no release latch on the trap itself, but he did find that there were a set of latches to hold each claw along the ground. If he could pry the claws from each other and get them into those latches, Twilight would be freed. He would just have to be certain he could get them completely down on the first try. Otherwise, the trap would snap shut again.

"I'm going to pull the claws from each other," he announced. "You should remove your leg as soon as you can. Just in case."

Twilight gave a growl of warning.

"I know. I'll be careful."

He looked at his brother, a question in his eyes: should I do it? Twilight nodded.

Wild wiped his suddenly sweaty palms in his pants, then pulled on a pair of leather gloves. He placed his hands on the clasp, digging his fingers into the narrow openings between the spikes. 

"One," he whispered, "two, three!"

Summoning as much strength as he could, he pulled the claws from each other. The springs in the trap were taut, new and well-oiled, and Wild struggled against them with the bad grip he had on the bear trap. Cursing, he abandoned all care for his hands and gripped the claws properly. The spikes dug into his hands even through the leather, and he could feel warm blood mix with salty sweat.

Wild struggled with the trap for a moment, then the claws suddenly snapped down, clicking neatly into their latches. He panted heavily and turned back to the wolf beside him.

Twilight gave a happy bark and a lick across Wild's cheek in thanks, his tail wagging a few times, and that made his ruined hands worth it. Wild laughed, then pointed to the leg Twilight was still holding close to his body.

"We should probably look at that. I think I have a spare potion somewhere."

"What do you think you're doing?!" Came a deep rumble from their left, and both hylian and wolf turned to look.

It was a man with the build of a brick wall, his clean-shaved face turned downward into a frown. A leather satchel was slung over his shoulders, and Wild could just barely see a bow and quiver behind his broad frame.

"You have no right to steal my catch," the man continued.

The anger suddenly poured directly into Wild's bloodstream, intoxicating like a powerful drug.

"No, you have no right to place a trap like that here!" Wild jumped to his feet without even thinking about it. He walked towards the man, who was more than a head taller than him, but Wild made an imposing figure all the same, filled with fury as he was.

The man grinned down at him, unfazed.

"Is that so? And who's gonna stop me? You?"

Wild sized the guy up. "Maybe I am."

"Well, then," the man said and dropped his satchel on the ground, "I shall be happy to teach you a lesson, lad."

A deep growl from Twilight told Wild exactly what the goatherd would do if the man hurt him, and he was oddly touched despite the situation. Twilight's leg was crushed, and he could barely stand. But he was still willing to fight if Wild needed him.

"Shut up, you mutt," the man snarled. "I'll deal with you as soon as-"

Wild lost his last ounce of self-control and lunged.

The man, clearly taken by surprise, stumbled back as Wild's fist connected with his nose. It started bleeding and he raised a tentative hand to it. It was clearly broken. The man seemed to come to the same conclusion that moment.

"Why you little-"

The man struck out, but Wild easily sidestepped and punched him in the stomach. The hunter wheezed and doubled over, but Wild swiped his feet from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Wild placed a boot on the man's chest and leaned down on it so that he couldn't get up.

"A real hunter respects nature," Wild said icily. "He doesn't let the animals suffer, and he makes sure his traps won't harm other hylians."

Wild put more pressure on his foot and bent down for emphasis.

"You are no real hunter. And if I ever see one of your traps again, if I ever as much as see you again, I won't stop at a broken nose. Are we clear?"

The man, comically larger than Wild, nodded rapidly. 

"Good. Then get out of here."

Wild removed his boot, leaving a muddy footprint behind. The man didn't hesitate to gather his things and run off, leaving Wild and Twilight alone in the forest once again.

Wild's anger wasn't gone, but with no clear target for it anymore, he felt his shoulders slump. It had been a long morning. Twilight limped over to him with great difficulty and nuzzled at his hands with his snout. Wild looked at them in surprise. He had completely forgotten how mangled they were while he fought the man, but now that he was feeling his exhaustion, the pain from his injuries also returned.

Twilight whined.

"Yeah, we make a fine pair, huh?" Wild smiled without any real humor in it. Twilight rubbed his head against his side.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. I know. Now, let's get your leg and my hands fixed."

Twilight's tail thumped against the ground, and Wild quickly found the potions in his slate. When they returned to camp an hour later, Twilight's injury was reduced to a limp, and his arm was slung over Wild's shoulders. They didn't say anything about the incident to the others, but Time must have guessed some of it, for he gave Wild an appreciative clap on the back and a smile. Wild smiled back and quietly admitted to himself that it had felt good to give that hunter a piece of his mind. No one got away with hurting his brothers like that. Wild would make sure of that.

[sharks-n-bones]

Y'all, I'd like to apologize in advance, this is the longest one yet

Without further adue

BRANCH WON THE POLL SO IT'S BRANCH TIME BABY LET'S GO

When the flood hit, Branch was the most prepared troll in all of Pop Village. He was a survivalist, he built an entire underground Bunker with a functional elevator by himself, of course he'd know what to do

When the rivers started overflowing, Branch was suspicious from the get go. It was late summer, the snow already melted from the mountains and flooded the rivers. There hasn't been any rain recently, so there's no reason the rivers would've flooded

Branch’s hunch was soon proved correct when the river just kept flooding over, the water reaching the village in no time, causing them all to have to relocate. They went for higher ground, and when the storms came they hunkered down where they could until they ended, and they began moving again

Once they were finally somewhere safe for the time being, they began building boats. King Peppy advised that families and friends should stick together and travel together, and Branch had to agree with him. There was safety in numbers, especially in cases such as this

Branch helped Poppy, the king and the snackpack (along with Prince D, who was visiting when the water started rising) to build a boat that would fit them all, with room to spare, of course. Branch was nothing if not prepared. He'd drawn up blueprints in his spare time on the journey to higher ground, and designed the boat big enough for them all to have their own rooms and bathrooms, a kitchen, multiple storage rooms, a common room and other such amenities. And of course, he built an area above the main deck for farming

Since Satin and Chenille were pros on working with fabrics, Branch asked them to make the sails. Smidge helped with the heavy lifting, since she was by far the strongest out of the Snackpack. Cooper, Prince D, DJ Suki and Biggie helped with gathering supplies and resources. Poppy and Guy Diamond helped with decorations, but pretty much everyone helped with the actual building of the ship

In no time, their ship was built and stocked with enough provisions to last a couple weeks at least. Branch was proud of the ship and the hard work everyone put into it. They sang and danced and hugged throughout the process, but it seemed to make the building go along quicker, if anything, and it boosted everyone's moods. Once the water has risen enough to be lapping against the bottom of the boat, they worked together to push it into the sea before hopping on and setting sail

Other than now having to work harder on surviving, things stayed much the same. They spent their days singing, dancing and hugging while they tended to their little farm, fished, and gathered resources and food from any island's they came across. Most of the group also enjoyed swimming when they had the chance, and Branch would even join them sometimes, but he was a bit more.. suspicious of the water that flooded the world

He'd been working on theories and gatherings clues as to what caused this great flood. Surely, it wasn't natural. There was no way! The world wouldn't just flood without something to cause it. But what could've been powerful enough to do such a thing..? When he wasn't busy foraging, tending to the garden and making sure the ship was still in peak condition, he was usually pouring over the clue board he'd made about the flood

He'd added some.. other changes he'd noticed to the clue board as well, such as how everyone on the ship was developing rashes on their necks, and how he noticed that their skin seemed to be drying out faster while their hair was all still picture perfect, if not looking better than ever. He added how the webbing between their fingers seemed to be inching up to their knuckles, ever so slowly. He'd thought he'd be the only one to notice that, but he saw some of the others glancing at their hands with odd expressions once in a while. A lot of other trolls they came across were having the same exact effects, so it couldn't just be a freak disease that had taken over the ship. Besides, if it was, they wouldn't have as much energy as they did. Other things would be noticed

He was pouring over his clue board again when a theory suddenly came to his mind. He laughed at himself at first, because there was no way, it would be impossible-

He started taking samples of the water that now covered most of the planet, trying to see if there was anything in it that could be causing these changes. He checked the rainwater they collected, ocean water, rivers and creeks if any islands still had them, but each and every time he came up empty. There were no weird chemicals or anything of the sort he could find

There was nothing he could physically see, but the water was the only thing he could think of that would cause these changes! He even checked the fish they caught and any food they grew or foraged, but there was nothing unusual. At this point, the only thing that could be causing these changes was magic! He chuckled at the thought, and pushed it aside… not before adding it to the clue board with a bunch of question marks, though

Occasionally, techno trolls would approach their ship and ask if they needed any help. The next time one breached the surface, Branch asked if they'd noticed anything in the water since the flood hit. The techno troll's eyes widened, and he winced before sighing and climbing onto the ship

He explained everything he knew. Told them about the legends of sirens, of their history with them, how they locked them away. How the sirens broke free right around the time the water began rising

Then, he explained how they filled the ocean that covered the planet with and ancient and powerful magic. He explained that it would slowly change their bodies to become more siren-like. As he explained, he pointed out the changes they were already experiencing. Explained the rashes on their necks would develop into gills, the webbing between their fingers would reach the last knuckle for better swimming, their bodies would grow scales and that their skin was drying faster because it was becoming dependant on the sea water

Everyone had gathered to listen, and everyone looked shocked. Poppy examined her hands, Satin and Chenille ran fingers through their hair. Biggie and Smidge brought hands to the rashes on their necks, Guy and Tiny looked at their glitter-coated skin, and Cooper and Prince D glanced at each other, seemingly have an entire conversation without words

The techno troll continued, explaining that they'd be able to change into the same forms as siren's could. The troll forms — how they looked now, the half forms — what they were going to look like once the changes were complete, and the siren forms — where their legs would fuse into a tail and they'd take on more characteristics of whatever sea creature the ocean decided to attach to them

He explained that the more time they spent in the water, the faster the changes would happen, but they wouldn't be able to stop it. He said not to fear it, it would only help them out in the long run

Branch asked why they would cause the flood to begin with only to help them survive in the end. The techno troll said that their war was with the technos, not with anyone else. Dubz didn't know what they had planned for techno’s, but said not to worry about it. It was the techno’s fight, not theirs

Branch felt bad for them, and could see the others felt the same. The techno troll bid them farewell after that and left, leaving the group in silence. He could see that familiar gleam in Poppy's eyes, one that meant she wanted to help them, she just didn't know how yet. Branch couldn't help but smile at that. She always wanted to help people, and he loved that about her

For the rest of the day, things were a bit more quiet than usual. Everyone thinking about what they'd just learned. Branch sighed and went to find Poppy, wanting to make sure she was alright

The next day, they reached an island and they all unanimously decided to take a day to completely relax. They deserved a day off, especially after all they'd learned yesterday. So they tossed the idea of work to the wind and spent the day relaxing at the beach

Everyone was having fun. Building sandcastles, playing in the waves, relaxing on the sand, floating around, just generally having a good time. Branch was even relaxing, just sitting in the sand and reading a book for once. He was so lost in the pages, he almost didn't hear Tiny scream

He looked up just in time to see a fish come out of the water and latch onto Tiny Diamond, dragging him under, and Guy Diamond frantically diving after him. Branch immediately tossed his book aside and ran into the water after them. Guy hadn't come up for air yet so Branch dove after him. Guy dove pretty far down, so he was slowing down and running out of air by the time Branch got to him and began dragging him up through the water

The moment they breached the surface, Guy coughed and gasped, taking in a large breath, before immediately elbowing Branch in the face and fighting against his hold

Branch understood why he was fighting so hard. Tiny was Guy's son, he loved Tiny more than anything in the world. But, as much as it hurt admit, Tiny and that fish were long gone by now. Branch held onto Guy tightly until he eventually stopped fighting and just went limp in his hold

Branch sighed sadly and began hauling him to shore while Cooper, Prince D and Smidge dove into the water to keep looking for Tiny, just in case

Guy wouldn't stop looking at the ocean once Branch brought him to shore. He just stood there, frozen like a statue, before he eventually crumpled to his knees. Then, to Branch’s utter horror, he slowly began turning grey. From the tips of his hair, moving downwards until he was completely dull, the glitter that made up his skin now matte and lifeless

Branch’s heart ached for him. He didn't know what it was like to lose a child, thank the stars above, but he knew what it was like to lose a family member and he knew what it was like to turn grey. He heard the others gasping in shock, but Branch only frowned and wrapped an arm around Guy, giving him all the comfort he could. The others soon joined in, all wrapping Guy in one giant hug. Guy never hugged back

They had stayed at the island for a week longer than they'd planned to, just in case Tiny somehow showed up, and Guy waited on the beach every day. Tiny never showed. Eventually, they brought Guy back to the ship and to his room. The others were all concerned for Guy, but Branch tried to tell them not to go overboard or push the poor guy too much. He remembered how much the toxic positivity bothered him when he went grey, and knew it could be smothering and overwhelming

Once in a while, Branch would check in on Guy and bring him some food if he noticed he hasn't been eating. Aside from occasionally checking up on him, he gave him some space

For the next 2-3 months, a melancholy air hung around the ship. They all would still sing and dance, but it wasn't the same now that two voices were missing. Guy didn't come out of his room that much. He usually would for meals or to sometimes help Branch when he was brainstorming safety precautions (presumably to make sure nothing like what happened to Tiny ever happens again, or at least that was Branch’s theory), but most days he stayed cooped up in his room

Branch felt bad for him. He wished he could do more to help, but he didn't know Guy like the others did. He could only think to do what he wished others would do when he turned grey — show he cared, but give him enough space to breathe

A few months passed uneventfully, just going from island to island, gathering resources and taking some time to try and relax before setting sail again. It was another normal day for them, they had just docked at an island when something different finally happened

A ship came up beside their own and set anchor. A lone figure wearing a pair of reflective goggles aboard the ship used their hair to board their own boat, landing with a loud thud on the deck. They pushed their goggles up to their forehead and Branch gasped

This couldn't be happening. 20 years of absolute silence, complete separation. 20 years since he left him behind, and suddenly he shows up right when a flood takes over the planet? Branch couldn't believe his eyes. The troll then spoke, stating he was searching for someone when they suddenly locked eyes, and the newcomer aboard their ship grinned and called him a name he hadn't heard in decades

“Baby Branch!!”

[chaoxfix]

39 with knuckles (and anyone else)? 👀 👉👈

here ya go!

///

It’s always something with those two, Knuckles thinks when he sees the Tornado touch down, engine smoking, and passengers worse for wear. He shakes his head at them, already telling himself that he really has to draw the line somewhere, that he’s helping no one when he’s constantly bailing these two out of whatever shenanigans they’ve gotten themselves into. 

No way is he intervening. Not even when he sees Sonic – visibly singed, and limping when he hops out of the Tornado. Knuckles is a rock. Wholly unmoved by their plight. 

It lasts for all of three more seconds.

Tails flies out of the Tornado then, looking strained, like the movement is painful. Knuckles has already taken a step closer to investigate. That’s when Tails falls out of the air, leaving Sonic to scramble to catch him. He does, barely, and only by grabbing Tails’s scruff. But the movement unbalances Sonic, and they land in a heap. 

Knuckles sighs. 

It wouldn’t be the worst thing to help him, he begrudgingly admits. As long as they don’t need the Master Emerald.

With that in mind, he shakes his head, already cursing his lack of willpower. But they do seem to need help, even if it’s only a safe place to sleep and heal. As long as they don’t need the Master Emerald, Knuckles supposes he can live with that. 

Sonic and Tails are still in a heap on the ground when Knuckles arrives. He peers down at them, and only Sonic blinks his eyes open to look at him. 

They glare at each other for a moment, each testing the other’s willpower. 

Then, Sonic gently nudges Tails to wake him up. 

Tails yawns and rubs his eyes. “Hm?”

Knuckles waits patiently for the little fox kit to notice him, and prepares himself for the inevitable startling. It passes quickly – to his surprise, Tails seems happy to see him. 

“Hello to you too,” Knuckles says after a beat. “Should I even ask what happened?”

“Robotnik,” Tails says seriously, in that too-old-for-a-little-kid voice of his. Smart, but with childish lilts on many of his words. “Can we stay here for a little while? Sonic got really hurt.” 

Sonic huffs. He gently smacks the back of his hand against Tails’s arm, but Tails just smiles. 

“Please?” Tails adds. “We’ll be good houseguests this time.”

It is definitely not what Sonic was getting at, Knuckles thinks. He can’t even picture Sonic trying to raise Tails to be polite. Whatever polite attitude he has is surely due to whoever raised Tails prior to… however it is they met. 

Knuckles tsks. “It’s fine. As long as Robotnik didn’t follow you, you can stay here. But once you heal up, I want you off my island.” 

Tails looks immediately relieved. “Thank you. Hear that, Sonic? Knuckles let us stay after all!”

Sonic makes a movement with his hands that Knuckles doesn’t catch, but that makes Tails pout. 

“He will too have food,” Tails says. Then, shyly, glances up at Knuckles. “...Right? If we do have to catch it ourselves, that’s okay too of course, I was just, um, wondering.”

Knuckles’s eye twitches. But he keeps his temper in check. For now. “I have soup,” he says flatly. “That should do it for you two until you can forage for yourselves.” 

The promise of food, it seems, finally is enough to rouse them. Sonic slowly gets to his feet, with Tails struggling to help him, and between the two of them, they finally get upright. Tails attempts to help Sonic walk, but Knuckles doesn’t trust the fox kit’s shaky legs as much as Sonic seems to. 

“Stop.” 

Tails and Sonic blink up at him with twin confusion. “What?” Tails asks. 

Knuckles easily pushes between them. Without a word, he slips one of Sonic’s arms around his neck, so he doesn’t have to lean on the kid to walk. 

Truthfully, Knuckles is surprised Sonic is letting him – but even though he must be in pretty rough shape, it has to be a relief not to make the little kid prop him up. Even though Knuckles is deeply skeptical at Sonic’s abilities to shepherd a little kid, it’s clear he cares about him and doesn’t want to burden him. Which is only right, seeing as the kid can’t be more than five. 

Tails, even more than Sonic, looks relieved. “Thanks, Knuckles,” he says. Then, he starts to step forward with shaky legs of his own. 

Knuckles uses his free hand to grab him by the scruff. 

Sonic makes a choked sound and tries to squirm away, but Knuckles doesn’t give him the chance to.

“Here,” Knuckles says mildly, “Let me carry you.” 

It’s not as though he’s giving Tails much of a choice, of course, seeing as Tails is still held up by the scruff. But Knuckles thinks it’s extremely polite of him to at least explain. 

“Are you sure?” Tails finally asks, in a small, uncertain voice. 

Knuckles just grunts. Instead, he answers Tails by scooping him up and resting him on his hip. Tails seems to know what to do from there, saving both him and Knuckles the embarrassment of saying another word about it. Still, his namesake tails swish uncertainly even as he loops his legs around Knuckles’s middle.

“...Thanks,” Tails finally says, voice small as he buries his nose into Knuckles’s white crescent patch. 

“Next time don’t get injured,” Knuckles says flatly. But there’s warmth in his voice despite himself. 

From there, they make a lopsided, limping trio. But even Knuckles can admit to feeling relieved when they all sit down for soup a few minutes later, sitting in the warm glow of the Master Emerald and its shrine. 

[iron-sparrow]

Whew, had to think about this one for several days. Hope you like these Yein Facts™ and don't forget to LIKE & SUBSCRIBE for more daily Yein content.

Many warm thanks to @sparrowsong-7 @lilbittymonster @thefreelanceangel @bunnyboybosom and @sealrock for the tags! ₊˚⊹♡

B A S I C S

Name: Yein Que-Sae/Yein of Iron

Nicknames: Iron, Sparrow, Little Sparrow, Little Bird, Chompers

Age: Somewhere between 35 and 40, they think?

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Gender: None

Orientation: All

Profession: Free paladin ⛊ and also professional lover

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Magpie

Eyes: Amber (damaged: citrine)

Skin: Iron gray

Tattoos/Scars: No tattoos, but they are covered in a lot of scar tissue. A lot of it is actually prominently displayed on their face; decorating their cheeks, cutting over one eye, and removing some of their lip to expose a bit of teeth. Their body has a number of scars earned through years of combat before their first death, plus torture marks clustered over their back.

They will also paint their face when they explore the Shroud, to hide from Elementals.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Eun Que-Sae † and Jienfrex Maz-Yeh †

Siblings: Their twin brother, Sacheo Maz-Yeh

Grandparents: Unknown †

In-laws and Other: Their little found family consists of their partners Nolanel and Derrinall, and a little fae creature calling herself Dinky Dinky. They also consider their mentee Odette to be family.

Pets: They care for sparrows due to spiritual/religious reasons, but they don't actually see or keep these as pets.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Yein is a stone-wielding paladin, so they do have some abilities based on the PLD class (through fancy aether manipulation). They can also see the dead, and communicate more meaningfully with said dead people via rituals.

Hobbies: Sparring, writing poetry, collecting books (with mostly illustrations), foraging the woods, tending to their hidden shrines, and doing various forms of physical exercise ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their big, big heart! They make sure to leave space for everyone they meet.

Most Negative Trait: Often thinks they know best. Also, they're pretty stubborn.

L I K E S

Colors: Gold, black, and bright reds

Smells: Burnt wood, fresh soil, Ul'dah after heavy rains, curry on the stove, and most flowers ❀

Textures: Silk and loose linens, worn leather, cool tile on bare feet

Drinks: Black iced coffee, Gridanian whiskey

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Eh? Not cigarettes, but see "Drugs" below.

Drinks: Yep! Not as much as they used to, but they like a tasty beverage.

Drugs: Only sometimes, and only if the grass is really good.

Mount Issuance: They have a loyal chocobo, Arbiter. He was bred for the Thanalan heat and served as a very good companion to Yein in life. When they died, Arbiter was found by Sacheo searching the place where Yein was last seen/killed.

Been Arrested: Yes! They were briefly held as a political prisoner while still serving the Sultana, prior to the Calamity. Shockingly, they've managed to stay out of Gridanian gaols.

₊˚⊹♡ Tagging @prudentfolly @this-is-ris @nolanel-corbeaux, @guillotine-of-the-snake @justatheo @archaiclumina @chadhunkler @abyssalmermaiden Very sorry if you've already been tagged! (•ᴗ•,, ) I tried to avoid duplicates.