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best-underrated-anime · 2 months ago

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Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 4: Akiba Maid War vs Hakumei and Mikochi

#F2: Akiba Maid War

90s maid girls with guns

#F3: Hakumei and Mikochi

Daily lives of tiny forest women

Details and poll under the cut!

#F2: Akiba Maid War (Akiba Meido Sensou)

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Summary:

The innocent Nagomi Wahira has always admired the cute girls serving at maid cafes. Hoping to fulfill her dream of becoming one, she moves to Akihabara to work at the maid cafe Ton Tokoton.

Nagomi’s first day seems completely normal—until she has to run an “errand” at a rival maid cafe along with her fellow recruit, the mature Ranko Mannen. There, things quickly go south, and Nagomi soon gets her first taste of Akihabara’s violent maid wars. As she watches Ranko calmly battle her way through a horde of gun- and knife-wielding maids, Nagomi realizes that maid cafes are drastically unlike what she had envisioned.

While struggling to reconcile her expectations with the harsh reality she finds herself in, Nagomi searches for the enjoyment she once saw in the lives of maids.

Propaganda:

It was animated by P.A. Works! As far as I know, they also worked on Buddy Daddies, Angel Beats, Ya Boy Kongming, etc. Cygames also contributed to this anime!! The story is creative as well. Who would’ve thought of a cute maid mafia anime? Keep in mind, this is a P. A. Works ORIGINAL. They went SO crazy on this anime. There’s also 12 episodes, which means that you can binge it all on one day and still be satisfied :D The OP and ED are also catchy, creative and unskippable. Despite its dark themes, it can sometimes get a little more “lighthearted” and silly, even in the most violent scenes ;P

Trigger Warnings: Flashing Lights, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore.

Just like what I explained, it’s violent. A lot of guns. And a lot of blood. Yes, they kill fellow maids in like every episode ever lol. Also, since Akiba is known to have flashy street signs, like every city ever…. And the guns, of course…that’s why I put the Flashing Lights warning.

#F3: Hakumei and Mikochi (Hakumei to Mikochi)

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Summary:

In a world inhabited by people only a few inches tall, young women Hakumei and Mikochi live together in a house built into a tree. Hakumei is an energetic and tomboyish carpenter, while Mikochi is a feminine and calm tailor. Despite their differences, they get along well and spend their days having fun living their lives in the woods. The two of them spend their time working, going on sightseeing adventures, and taking shopping trips into Tsumiki Marketplace by the ocean. They make many friends along the way, be they sentient woodland creatures like Iwashi the Weasel or fellow miniature people such as the songstress Konju and the inventor Sen. Hakumei to Mikochi is a relaxing look into the day-to-day lives of its titular characters as they explore and interact with their tiny world which seems to be straight out of a fairy tale.

Propaganda:

It really is super adorable, and the art is gorgeous. Every bit of the world is rendered lovingly with a great level of detail, from the characters to the environments. The anime has this really cool effect where they use paneling to emulate the manga’s style while also making the characters visually smaller on-screen, which works because they’re tiny.

For a slice-of-life show, there’s a good amount of continuity. They introduce the swamp necromancer Sen in one episode, and she keeps showing up later on, helping rebuild their house when it explodes, then Mikochi repays her for that by designing and making a dress for her. The show gets really into the intricacies of everything, like how dying fabric is a multistep process that is similar to chemistry, or how soap is made with aromatics.

Every character is well-realized, with their own set of quirks, profession, the tricks and tools they use in that profession, and they make pretty consistent re-appearances. And the writing is very dry and witty despite the whimsical setting. It’s cute, but it feels very adult, all the characters are adults with jobs who get drunk sometimes. Everyone is very professional and responsible, and it’s a nice change of pace from teen shounen.

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 4 #tournament polls #group f #akiba maid war #hakumei and mikochi #hakumei to mikochi #akiba maido sensou #akiba maid sensou

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1u11ablues · 2 years ago

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MY LITTLE INFERNI (NIKOLAI LANTSOVxOC)

WC: 3k Summary: Following a heartbreak with a certain childhood friend, an inferni asked to be stationed somewhere as far away as possible–to heal, while also serving her country. It's going well, until she realised her feelings were, in fact, requited.

[This is the longfic I had in plans after 'You Made it Easy'. I update once a week/every two weeks on Ao3, but will update here as well.]

CHAPTER 1: SCORCHWITCH

“How much for the plums?”

Dasha picked up the ripe purple fruit, squishing it in her hands to check for rot. Next to them are various fruits; apples, pears, perfect round peaches—and her mouth waters at the thought of having peach jam to go with her bread. For a country known for its never ending winter, it’s quite surprising how they can grow the amount of fruits that they do. She’s not even surprised if illegal grisha labour is involved somehow. Saints know how they treat grishas in Fjerda. In fact, being forcefully indentured might sound better to some than getting killed for simply existing.

The village market was nothing compared to the perfectly arranged stalls they have in Djerholm—but Dasha finds it endearing; almost whimsical in its own way. She preferred the Ravkan market more, though. The wares were more colourful, especially in the summer and spring. Rows and rows of stalls full of produce, flowers, cloth and the Zemeni spices her brother used to love. He’d buy something from the spice stalls every time they visited the marketplace and use those to make his famous hot chocolate. Dasha knew it was only delicious because of the spice,but Stepan never got the chance to tell her what the exact ingredient was before he left. She missed his hot chocolate. She missed Stepan.

The sky grumbled. It was such a lovely day this morning, but she can see dark clouds approaching from the distance, sensing a storm coming soon. Just as the snow had stopped falling for the day. Great.

“Oh, dear Astrid!” The stall owner greeted her. “Good to see you today. Doing some shopping for the mister?”

Dasha smiled, still not quite used to the identity Zoya had given her. She had been undercover in Fjerda for almost a month now, disguised as a housewife to a leatherworker;a member of the Hringsa. She repeated her new name to herself the first week she arrived— Astrid Karlen, Astrid Karlen, Astrid Karlen— just so she wouldn't be an idiot and say her real name; Dasha Lenkovya, whenever she had to introduce herself. The story she had concocted was that she’s a girl from a rural Fjerda village looking to marry someone who can take care of her—and live somewhere closer to the city for better opportunities. It was simple, but so far, no one had mentioned anything about it.

It was her request to be sent somewhere far away for work—heartbreak makes you do weird things—but she didn't expect Zoya to assign her somewhere this far.

“Yes,” she replied, “although I’m not sure I will get anything else done today with a storm around the corner.”

She turned to look at the sky, and the lady at the stall followed her gaze. Her mouth twisted downwards, and Dasha grinned. Her fruit stall seems wonky and there was nothing to cover its wares and owner from the torrent of bad weather Fjerda has been experiencing lately,so the lady will have to close shop sooner than she planned.

“Djel must be angry.” She states, as her eyes scanned through her unsold produce. “You know what? Any other fruit you want, I’ll give it to you for half the price. At least I’m getting something instead of leaving them to rot .”

Dasha laughed and picked herself a variety of colourful fruits; apples, plums, peaches, and pears—some for dinner, some for pies, some for the jams she plans to make. She reached into her coin purse for the payment, when she overheard two ladies in her periphery sounding distressed.

“It’s just a precaution,Clara.”

She arranged the produce neatly in her netted bag—taking her time, focusing her attention on what the ladies were saying. If there’s anything Zoya had taught her, it’s that even gossip from the townspeople can offer valuable information. She just had to be diligent enough to sift through and separate idle talk from intel.

“They probably arrested him,because you know—he’s not actually the upstanding civilian you think he is.” A pause. “When they find out he’s done nothing wrong,they will release him.”

“That’s easy for you to say. He’s my brother!”

Hmm , so people have been missing . She had heard the same words from different people over the course of two weeks now.

She hurried down the gravel away from the market square, not wanting to be caught out there by any authorities, or worse, Druskelle. Sure, the Druskelle rarely patrols this far down from Djerholm, but with what had been happening lately—the miracles blooming here and there in what she was guessing was a part of Nina Zenik’s plan—it’s normal to be scared.

Her role in Fjerda is to be a dormant agent, to be used only to send messages or news to Ravka. She hasn’t stumbled into anything that requires active work yet, so to her this kind of feels like going on a vacation. Except she has to pretend that she’s happily living with the man of her dreams who she had only known for a month now. It’s already hard enough for her to form bonds, but Zoya had to pair her with someone as ill-tempered as Henrik Beck, who reminds her of the boys who pull on your pigtails just for the fun of it.

It also took her a while to get used to the ways of Fjerdan women, to be obedient and prude, or in her case seem like it, but other than that, things were going swimmingly. Well, sometimes she wishes the weather was less harsh on her skin—her nighttime routine consists of slathering herself with animal grease so she wouldn't shrivel up like a prune.

She stopped by a house a little further left to the market square to pay its tenant a visit. It took her three knocks before a boy a little younger than her answers, his face a welcoming olive against the harsh colour of snow.

“Dasha,” Adya Yul-Naran whispered as he ushered her into his home. His assigned home. Dasha had known Adya’s sister Zaya since she was a fresh-faced student, still struggling to control her abilities in Baghra’s hut. They have been close enough for her to share some of her secrets, and for Zaya to ask her to take care of her brother as a favour. Dasha treated Adya like her own brother already, so she was planning on doing that, anyway.

“It’s Astrid, Oswin Westegaard. Common Fjerdan name for common Fjerdans, remember?” She reminded Adya, sitting herself in his comfy armchair before he even had the chance to extend the invitation to sit. She placed her bag of fruits by the side of the chair, sinking into the chair like it was made for her.

“Aye, Astrid, I daresay you got that aright. Please, make yourself at home. Fjerdan hospitality,” Adya mimicked as he poured her a steaming cup of tea. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Dasha laughs, threatening to hurl one of his many throw pillows at him. “Just curious as to how my charge is doing. That, and I’m seeking refuge from that nightmare outside,” she replied as she took a sip from her cup.

Adya crossed over her to pull the curtains down, so that they could talk away from prying eyes.

“You know how those Fjerdan are,Dash. You can’t just visit the home of unmarried men when you have that six feet hunk of a husband to return to.”

Dasha’s mouth hung open. “Adya, are you lusting over my fake husband?” She asked, a grin spreading on her face.

“Please.” Adya rolled his eyes. “I have better taste. Though I have to admit, Zoya picked a fine one for you.”

Dasha giggled at his admission, though she can’t say she had the chance to look at Henrik thoroughly enough to agree.

They exchanged a couple of pieces of information regarding the mission before Adya slapped his knees and stood, claiming, “You best get going, Dash. That storm cloud looks like it’s going to chase us with a cane,” and Dasha agreed as soon as she saw how close it was. She packed her stuff and rushed out of his doors hurriedly lest she got caught in the storm.

She manages to return just as the sky starts sprinkling its first wave of rain. The house she lives in is situated in Kvívik, a quaint village further east from Djerholm, with most of its building still made up of timber—a stark contrast to the brick and concrete Djerholm is packed in. It was near enough to the capital for her weekly visit, but not that near that it became a common patrol route for Druskelle.

Bag hanging from her elbow, she unlatched the door to the small snow cabin she had been living in the past month. Well, to Fjerdans, it’s just a normal house. She pushed her wet hair away from her forehead as she entered. The light from outside shone a path from the front door to a small dining table and a modest kitchen Dasha had helped set up.

She hung her coat on the hook by the door, shook the dirt and snow off her boots before removing them. He’s not home yet. Her shoulders sag in relief, though she doesn’t know why she was so tense to begin with.

Dasha hummed a Ravkan lullaby as she emptied the fruits from her bag to a basin full of water so she could rinse them. She watched as they bobbed up and down, thinking about the summer festivals in Ravka, then realised that her teeth were chattering.

Changing to something dry, a modest dress that Fjerdan women often wear, she wrapped herself with the blanket she had brought with her from Ravka—blue fleece embroidered with gold stars—and approached the fireplace. Her fingers were numb as she struck her flint to conjure a small kindling of flame to start a fire. It’s probably wiser to use the match propped on the stool to the side of the fireplace, but her hands were too shaky to even attempt to strike a match.

She sits there for a while and watches as the flame grows, the dancing of fire taking her back to the nights spent with an old friend. Someone she probably should try to forget by now, the reason she was here to begin with. She tried to tear her eyes away from the fire,but the rhythmic movement was too hypnotising—her mind too quiet.

“I find fire mesmerising,don’t you?” Nikolai told her one night, and she agreed. He took a swig out of an amber bottle and continued, “Yellow and orange, like autumn leaves. The sway of them almost looks musical, dancing and playing like the silk ribbons they sell in Noyvi Zem.” She listened to the poetry pouring out of his lips, remembering how the subject of it illuminates his facial features. If she was drunk enough, she would have kissed him.

A loud creak startled her out of thought. She looked to the door, tense, hand on her flint, to find out it was Henrik just returning from work. Saints, how late is it? When the outside wind from the open door crept in, she scoots nearer to the fire to find out it had burned out to a pile of ash on the hearth.

Henrik dropped his tool belt on the dining table, scowling.

“Stupid girl, why didn’t you start the fire?”

Dasha cringed at the scornful tone that came out of his mouth—she does not like this man, and it doesn’t matter if Zoya says that he’s helpful towards the cause.

Standing up to grab some more firewood, she replied, curtly, “I did, but got distracted .”

“I should’ve asked the Stormwitch for more competent help.” Henrik dashed past her to the woodrack before she did.

Her hands trembled, movement so minute that most would just assume it was out of cold or nerves. Then he swiped the matches off the stool and took one out to restart the fire. What would Zoya do if she found out that Dasha had singed their valuable intel’s eyebrows off? She could do it right now—could enlarge the sparks from the matches to make it big enough to reach his face. She chose not to, but there’s a surprising comfort in knowing that she can.

“First of all,” Dasha crosses her arms, “I’m not here to be the help.”

Henrik grunts, more focused on feeding the fire so that it gets big enough to warm the entire house instead of just himself.

“I’m here for my country. And secondly—” she flicks her hands, making the flames roar, barely licking the cuffs of his coat. “—have you forgotten that you were talking to an Inferni?”

The corners of her mouth rose in a smirk, satisfied as she made him tumble back on the heel of his feet.

He stood up to make himself dinner, rubbing the charred cuff at his wrists, and Dasha heard him call her something under his breath.

“ Scorchwitch .”

***

Dinner was frugal, butter smeared toast and smoked deer meat—though Dasha wished she had jam to go with her bread. She added that to her mental list as she grabbed a couple of plums to snack on as she wrote Zoya a message regarding the stuff that was happening in the market square earlier. Reports of missing people, some saying that they were taken to the Ice Court for trial.

She doesn’t think that the missing people were taken there, because the Ice Court is—according to the Fjerdan—a place for people who were considered the bottom of the barrel. So, Zoya, the infamous Stormwitch, would definitely count as the average barrel dweller. Maybe she would be considered one, too. She’s pretty confident that she could wield her ability well enough to annihilate an entire town. If she tries.

Dasha shook her head, once again distracted by her weird musings. This is why Nikolai called her a ‘space cadet’, which is quite a fitting nickname for her in general. Though she knows it was mostly because her head was always in the clouds—and not because of her love for the stars and moon that adorned the night sky.

She finishes the letter complaining about Henrik,as usual—bless Zoya for putting up with her—and folded it neatly into an envelope. She’ll ask someone from the network to send it out tomorrow, but today she just wants to relax and not have to think of anything else.

With the last bite of her plums, Dasha stood up and walked to the washbasin to splash her face clean before going to sleep. She looks into the mirror and inhales sharply—a little alarmed at the person staring at her in the mirror. Oh, she whispered to herself. She forgot that Genya had tailored her face to fit the usual Fjerdan features. It’ll take a while for her to get used to the new face. Blue eyes, the bridge of her nose a little too high that it looks weird if she were to have it with her original face. And Saints , her hair. She preferred her auburn curls much more than the limp blonde she had to settle with. What would Nikolai say if he were to see her now?

She tucked herself into her bed, her body weary. She hasn’t used much of her power lately, and the dark circles under her eyes were getting too prominent. Today was the first time in almost two weeks that she had even had a reason to use them. And one of them was out of spite. She smiled—Genya would be proud of her. No more being careless, though. It’s far too dangerous to display even the tiniest hint of Grisha abilities, even this far away from Djerholm. Just like Ravka has the Hringsa everywhere in Fjerda as eyes, so does Jarl Brum. It’s hard to trust anyone these days.

***

“Dash!”

Dasha jolted up from her cot, startled. She took a moment to process her surroundings, using her flames to disperse the darkness she woke up to. Droplets of rain pitter pattered the roof of the tent they had been living in the past months, and Dasha shivered as a gust of wind blew into the slight opening of hers.

Who was calling her? She peeked out, dimming her fire so she wouldn’t leave soot on the walls of the tent. Her eyes widened. Several steps north of their camp, before the trees lining the Sikurzoi, a pyre was set up. Smoke haze her vision, but she can see that something was propped up on the pyre, and the burnt smell of it was so overpowering that her eyes teared up. She looked around—assessing her surroundings for danger—and found that the camp was eerily empty, almost like a mass exodus had happened in the span of one night. When she was sure that nothing would sneak up on her, she raised her hands to diminish the burning pyre, but stumbled when she heard someone calling her. From the pyre. “Dasha…” the person—or rather, creature—croaked, burnt hands outstretched towards her. The voice seemed oddly familiar, and fear tingled up her spine. As the smoke started clearing, she noticed something new that she had missed before. It had wings. And talons. Its eyes as black as the charred wood that was used to prop up its body. It’s—

Dasha’s eyes shot open, sweat beading down her forehead. That was the third nightmare she had had in two weeks. She was at the campsite in all of them, reliving the horrors of the slaughter her mind refuses to let go. This was the first time Nikolai was in it. As the demon. She was pretty sure that when Nikolai’s creature first visited her several moons ago; she was not that scared. So why was she dreaming of it?

Clank!

Dasha’s back straightened, startled. The damn neighbour’s cat is always running into things at night. She was about to return to sleep when she heard the soft pit-pat of footsteps on snowy grounds. Who’s up this late ? She rises and knelt on her bed to take a peek outside. Darkness would’ve cloaked the neighbourhood had it not been for the moonlight providing a wash of dim light against white snow. A figure silhouetted against the walls of the shed to the left of the house. She considered telling Henrik to come and see before another figure joined the first. She wanted to conjure her flames to see the faces of the figure, but decide against it. Should she tell Henrik about this? Maybe in the morning when she feels fresher to deal with his sour self.

She pressed her ear closer to the frosted glass of her window to try to catch a glimpse of what sort of dealings were going on in the dead of night. The winds were not helping her,at all, but she managed to catch one word that gives her an idea of who one of the figures is.

Scorchwitch.

It’s Henrik.

Here's the prologue.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsovxoc #grishaverse #kingofscars #Fjerda #shadow and bone netflix #grisha #inferni #friends to lovers #unrequited love #not actually unrequited love #eventual romance #eventual smut #king of ravka #sobachka #sturmhond #original character

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enchantedchocolatebars · 1 year ago

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Things To Think About For Characters (Clara Clawthorne [My Wittewife] 🧡 🤎 🧹 💟)

Commission artworks are here, here, and here.

• Do they have allergies? (Nope. She's happy to have no allergies to anything, especially nature, as she loves it so much.)

• What foods will they not touch? (Sour or spicy foods. They're bad for her tongue. Also, yuck. Her words btw. Oh, and rotten foods, for obvious reasons.)

• What kind of music do they like? (Medieval / Bardcore pop music! Those music genres were really popular during her time. Examples are here and here.)

• How are they around new people? (Very friendly and outgoing! Clara loves meeting new people!)

• Do they speak in an accent? (She has a cute American accent! Very upbeat and bubbly and a little high pitched! She sounds like a M/y L/ittle Pon/y character lol. Speaking of m/lp, here's her voice. I ❤️ T/ara S/trong.)

• Have they tried learning a new language? (Not really, but she would be delighted to learn if given the chance! If she did, she would have a really tough time at first with the new language, but she would get the hang of it over time.)

• How many languages do they know? (Only one, and it's English.)

• What is a song that will always make them cry? (This one. Tears of joy btw lol.)

• How do they cry? heaving? silently? sobbing? (All three, but it really depends on the situation.)

• How do they dress? for practicality or fashion? (I'll say practical since Clara wears pretty practical clothing.)

• What is the first thing they notice about a stranger? (Their smile! [if they're smiling.] If not, then their face and demeanor.)

• What is their humour like? (Silly, goofy, and random lol.)

• do they have scars? what caused them? (She has zero scars.)

• do they wear jewelry? (During her shore trips, she wears the jewelries she discovers and advertises them at her knick knack stand at the town marketplace.)

• are they a frivolous spender or a miser? (FRIVOLOUS SPENDER. SHE LOVES TO SHOP, SHOP, SHOP! You could say she's "a bit" of a shopaholic lol.)

• do they prefer luxury or practicality? (Luxury can be nice and does have its perks, but she prefers practicality.)

• Who would they quote? (Tay/lor Swi/ft I think. 99% of her quotes are positive. This one would be her fav lol.)

• what could make them change their mind? (Puppy dog eyes or treating her to something sweet lol. If you want a more serious answer, I say having a respectful conversation and finding common ground with her.)

• Who is the first person they'd call? (Scrolls weren't a thing back then, but if they were, I'd say her her ma / mother.)

• how are they around animals? do they have pets? (Clara exhibits kindness and love towards animals, and she has a blue jay palisman named Syrup as a pet.)

• What is their favourite childhood food? (Fairy fresh fairy bread lol. It's a very whimsical treat [it's sliced white bread slathered in butter and sprinkled with fairy dust] that Little Clara loved! She still loves it even as an adult.)

• what is something they've never told anyone? (Spoiler for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".😭)

• childhood friends? (She had some! Can't go too into detail about them though cuz spoiler for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".😭)

• what are habits they've picked up from other people? (Thanks to Caleb, Clara has become accustomed to carrying a carving knife with her.)

• what are their guilty pleasures? (I don't think she has any. If Clara likes something, she likes it and it doesn't cause her guilt. <3)

• what is something they're staunchly against? (The witch hunts that Caleb talked about that the humans in his realm engage in are definitely something she opposes.)

• do they speak a certain way? do they use contractions? popular turns of phrase? (She speaks normally. Also, she would use the popular phrases of her time.)

• can they fall in love? what does it look like? does it differ between people -- friends vs family? (Yes for the first question! She fantasizes about finding her one true love, so it's possible for her to fall in love and be in love lol. But the other stuff I can't answer cuz spoiler for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".😭)

• what would they rather die than do? (Spoiler for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".😭)

• what is their biggest mistake? one that they look out to never do again. (Spoiler for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".😭)

Sorry to end on a 'sorry spoiler' text, but yeah. 😅

Anyways,

tagging @princessrainbowpastel (her oc is on @persephoneflowerpetals), @queenspinoodle, @elusive---ivory, @nightsoulvixen (her oc is on @rizzocloverrpcorner), and @azure-blaze92 (he / they have an oc here)

The tag is also open to anyone who wants to do this, and you don't have to answer these questions with an oc if you don't want to (you can use a canon character as well). 💖 💗 💕

#(trying to shift back to thinking about my girl)#(because of the story i have planned for her and her hubby)#(WIFE)#(WITTEWIFE)#(gosh she's so lovely)#the owl house #owl house #toh #clara clawthorne #wittewife #oc #original character #writing #my writing #🧡#🤎#🧹#💟

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skrillexberry · 1 month ago

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Here’s a list of over 100 buildings to populate your fantasy town, covering everything from essential structures to more whimsical or thematic additions

Essential Buildings:

Town Hall

Guard Tower

Marketplace

Blacksmith

General Store

Tavern

Inn

Apothecary

Bakery

Butcher Shop

Tailor Shop

Stables

Schoolhouse

Library

Carpenter’s Workshop

Cobbler’s Shop

Farmer's Market

Fishmonger

Mill (Windmill/Watermill)

Well

Church/Temple

Chapel

Watchtower

Post Office

Barracks

Armory

Courthouse

Prison

Cemetery

Mortuary

Alchemist’s Shop

Magic Academy

Smithy

Herbalist

Potion Shop

Farrier (for horse shoes)

Brewery

Distillery

Granary

Butcher’s Block

Tailor’s Guild

Weaver’s Hut

Shipwright

Pottery Shop

Fletcher (Arrow Maker)

Tanner’s Yard

Brewery

Spice Merchant

Jeweler’s Workshop

Scribe’s Office

Civic & Public Spaces:

Fountain

Park

Courtyard

Arena

Theatre

Amphitheater

Bathhouse

Gardens

City Gates

Bell Tower

Archives

Magistrate’s Office

Observatory

Town Square

Auction House

Guildhall

Lighthouse

River Dock

Public Forum

Clock Tower

Residential Buildings:

Farmstead

Manor House

Noble’s Mansion

Townhouses

Cottage

Merchant’s House

Apartment Building

Caravanserai

Worker’s Dormitory

Boarding House

Hunter’s Lodge

Shanty House

Fisherman’s Hut

Vineyard Estate

Barracks

Witch’s Cottage

Trade and Craftsmanship:

Glassblower’s Workshop

Painter’s Studio

Sculptor’s Workshop

Clockmaker’s Shop

Musician’s Hall

Candlemaker’s Workshop

Florist

Basket Weaver

Soapmaker’s Shop

Bookbinder’s Shop

Toymaker’s Workshop

Carriage House

Leatherworker’s Shop

Metalworker’s Foundry

Dye House

Taxidermist’s Workshop

Cartographer’s Shop

Engraver’s Workshop

Mystical/Unique Buildings:

Wizard’s Tower

Enchanter’s Hall

Potion Brewery

Astronomer’s Tower

Fairy Grove

Dragon Stable

Rune Reader’s Tent

Crystal Shop

Elementalist Shrine

Oracle’s Hut

Druid’s Circle

Sorcerer’s Guild

Griffin Aviary

Necromancer’s Lair

Portal Room

Seer’s Observatory

Other:

Windmill

Grain Silo

Wine Cellar

Salt House

Ice House

Brewery

Tinkerer’s Workshop

Puppet Theater

Public Bathhouse

Art Gallery

Falconer’s Lodge

Cheese Monger

Guild of Shadows (Thieves’ Guild)

Adventurer’s Guild

Dungeon Entrance

Gambling Den

Spymaster’s Office

Assassin’s Guild

Beast Trainer’s Arena

Exotic Pet Shop

Stablemaster

Forge Temple

Graveyard Keeper’s Hut

Fishermen’s Wharf

Oracle’s Shrine

These structures can shape the town’s story, culture, and atmosphere. You can adapt or add to the list depending on your town's specific fantasy setting and its unique vibe.

#Adventure Locations #city architecture #Crafting Buildings #DnD Town #Fantasy Buildings #Fantasy Guilds #fantasy roleplay #fantasy setting #worldbuilding #fantasy #text #2024

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tvreadsandsleep · 2 years ago

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» Whimsical!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Liquid Sunshine #1 «

The rainy season was upon Wakanda. The waking hours were dim and gloomy while the pitter patter of raindrops served as the droning soundtrack of the day and night. People had taken to their homes to escape the downpour, the marketplace, and streets in general, free of their usual crowds.

Unlike many of her neighbors, Okoye had always loved the rain. To her, the season felt like a time of growth and rejuvenation, the rainwater moistening the ground to enable the flowers and crops to grow. Sometimes, she imagined the rainfall was washing away the wrongdoings of the earth, leaving it free of its previous grime so that everything could begin anew. As a child, she’d loved jumping in the puddles left behind, endlessly pestering her parents until they took her outside. She’d suffered many a punishment for having ruined various different articles of clothing when her enjoyment was unsupervised.

“What is it that has brought such a sweet smile to your lips?” Attuma asked, approaching her where she stood staring out the house’s front windows.

“It’s raining,” she replied before turning her radiant grin in his direction. “We have to go outside and play.”

Attuma gave her an odd look but didn’t resist when she pulled him toward the front door. He watched as she donned a jacket then encouraged him to do the same, impatient as he pushed his arms through the sleeves. Once he had it on, she retook possession of his hand and tugged him out into the chilly afternoon air. She walked them passed the swing on the front porch and directly out into the rain.

Sighing, Okoye lifted her face to the sky. Her eyes closed; she relished in the cool drops that fell upon her skin.

“It feels so nice,” she exhaled. Releasing Attuma, she stepped forward and whirled in front of him, her arms outstretched as she spun and laughed in the drizzle. She remembered her childhood; the old sense of wonder, she’d experienced back then, returning to her as she recalled a time before life’s difficulties had battered her down.

Attuma had never seen her this way: so joyous and carefree. He beheld her happiness for a moment, her delighted expression warming his heart, then joined her. Enthused by the moment—but her especially—he took hold of her waist and, using a fraction of his strength, he hoisted her in the air, twirling them both around for several turns.

Okoye shrieked, her eyes popping open, briefly, to look at him. After a time, she lowered her arms from the sky and placed her hands on his shoulders.

He took her cue and brought her closer to his body, allowing her feet to touch the ground as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me in the rain,” she teased, her heart racing, as she gazed into his eyes.

“It appears now would be the perfect time to remedy that,” he murmured, already leaning forward to meet her lips with his.

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #mywriting #attoyedailyprompt #whimsicalattoye #lsseries #black panther #wakanda forever

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connectparanormal · 5 months ago

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Creating and Using a Ghost Scrapbook

Making and using a scrapbook with a ghost theme can be a fun and imaginative method to explore a fascination with the paranormal while keeping memories and artistic expressions. This kind of scrapbook creates a one-of-a-kind memento that may be treasured for years by fusing the personal touch of handcrafted design with the creepy fascination of ghost stories. Creating such a scrapbook requires a combination of storytelling, artistic ability, and a dash of creative flair. Planning the scrapbook is a crucial first step. Think about the general idea and tone you wish to portray. Will it be more whimsical and lighthearted, or will it be eerie and chilling? Collect supplies that will work for your idea, like old paper, old photos, and spectral accents like stencils, stamps, and stickers. Online marketplaces, artisan stores, and antique shops are great ways to find these things. The physical satisfaction of choosing and working with these materials enhances the creative process.

After obtaining your supplies, consider your scrapbook's layout. Choose which stories or recollections to include, as well as the page order. An option is to start with a title page that establishes the mood, perhaps with an image of a haunted house or a ghostly person. Then, each page that follows can concentrate on a different facet of your theme, such as well-known ghost stories, first-hand accounts of paranormal activity, or even original fiction. The secret is to tell a compelling story that flows from start to finish. Consider the layout of each page when you begin assembling your scrapbook. A page must have the right amount of balance; too few items might make it appear sparse, and too many can make it feel cluttered. To add depth and intrigue, use textures and backdrop papers. Layering is a powerful technique that allows you to create a three-dimensional impression by layering tiny photos or embellishments on top of larger ones. Using this method will make your spectral scenes come to life, increasing their visual appeal and level of engagement. Personal touches are what really set a ghost-themed scrapbook apart. Include handwritten notes or printed text if your family has any ghost encounter stories. You can add a personal touch by including images of haunted places, whether they are well-known landmarks or lesser-known locales. Draw or paint spectral forms using your own artistic abilities, or use magazine cutouts to make collages. In addition to adding richness, these personal touches enable the scrapbook to represent your individual viewpoint on the paranormal. Making a scrapbook with a ghost theme can be as much fun as using it. Present it to your loved ones, particularly during Halloween or during gatherings where ghost stories often take place. It can arouse memories and initiate conversations about the paranormal, acting as a conversation starter. The scrapbook is a goldmine of ideas and visuals that can serve as inspiration for writing or artistic endeavors. Placing it on a coffee table or bookshelf allows guests to easily access and enjoy it, while also adding a touch of eerie charm to your home design.

A scrapbook with a ghost theme might also be a work in progress. When you experience new things or gain more knowledge about ghost stories, you can add more pages. This enables you to revisit and re-engage with your creative process throughout time, and it also maintains the scrapbook active and current. It can also be an amazing way to record visits to haunted houses or paranormal activities like ghost tours, turning it into a living journal of your paranormal adventures. In summary, creating and utilizing a scrapbook with a ghost theme is a fulfilling project that integrates narrative, creativity, and self-expression. It allows you to create a stunning and distinctive artifact while delving into the intriguing world of the paranormal. Whether shared with others or preserved as a private memento, a scrapbook like this can bring happiness, motivation, and a hint of spectral charm.

#ghost #scrapbook

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