#a strange yet ideal addition to the collection

[eggsploded]

airdry clay yi sang

[dihdidhish]

Racer AU

i decided to collect all the descriptions and notes i have for my AU. its centered around nortnaib(!!!) and is set in modern UK

tw. age gap, unhealthy/abusive relationships ig.. so 18+

Norton Campbell: Everything revolves around Highway Cavalier. He is a successful young racer (although by the way, 28 years old is not very young in this sport... yeah), Jack's successor, sometimes even perceives him as a father figure. Between the ages of 24-28, Norton crashed a car, getting burns (inspired by the story of Niki Lauda), but he continued his career, which only increased his ratings and strengthened his reputation as a goal-oriented person who spits in the face of danger. Norton is Jack's student, (and, as you will see later) he is not far from his teacher. In public, Norton is an attractive man with a charming, sparkling smile, but in private, he lets his true colors show: rude comments, reluctance to enter into close relationships due to his irresponsibility (but he will never refuse a night with one of his fans or random ladies from the bar), fatigue from popularity and constant surveillance by journalists, as well as a thirst for control and submission from weaker people.

(i dont have a proper reference for Naib yet so here's my friend's fanart [tap for the link])

Naib Subedar (16 y.o.): A few years ago, he saw Norton on TV / met him at his father's work and from that moment on, the racer became his idol, and Naib himself began to dream of such a career. Alas, Jack forbade him to follow his dream, because he did not want to burden himself with training a small one, so Naib was left with only getting as close to racing as possible. He trained as a mechanic and by a lucky coincidence (i.e. thanks to his father, who helped just so that naib would finally leave him alone) Naib got into Norton's pit stop team. Norton is the first person who treated Naib kindly, because of this, the guy, thirsty for love and recognition, only fell in love with his idol more and is now ready to do anything for the sake of another praise and hope for love.

Jack (~50 y.o.): a living legend nicknamed the Ripper. He received the title for how cruelly he smashed his opponents to smithereens. Behind the mask of success and skills hides a not very honest person.. a hypocrite, a misogynist, who has no problem using his influence for quick pleasure without obligations.. but here's the problem, one of the ladies got pregnant, which Jack found out when she showed up on his doorstep with little Naib, and then disappeared without a trace because she couldn't live with the child - an eternal reminder of the coercion she had experienced. Jack was furious and even thought about getting rid of naib, but.. his agent (it turns out, Eli) came up with the idea of using the little one to strengthen Jack's positive image in the media. Now he's not just a racer who always takes gold, but also a single father. a real hero. Jack and his team's ratings have skyrocketed, but no one has any idea what's going on behind closed doors. Jack doesn't hesitate to resort to psychological and physical violence against naib, he doesn't like him and sees him only as a hindrance. But Jack has immense respect for his student Norton, whom he took under his wing after retiring due to age. Naib grew up downtrodden, lonely and passive, in addition to this, the child had to constantly listen to his father enthusiastically talk about Norton, who was surpassing his teacher more and more every day. However, surprisingly, Naib did not hate Norton because of this, on the contrary, in the guy's eyes, Norton is an ideal person. unlike his father, who's not only a tyrant, but also an alcoholic.

Jack will continue his life as a bachelor, hiding a strange relationship with his agent. he doesn't admit that there's anything more to them than just business, but they're certainly close and eli knows that jack is under his thumb. no one knows anything about eli, jack's agent, journalists are desperately trying to find out the truth, to bring him to light, but each time they only find dead ends. but in reality..long evenings over a bottle of wine, discussing careers and personal lives.. neither of them are interested in romance. Jack is content with communicating with the agent, one-night stands with random women and a son on whom he can vent all his anger. and eli is satisfied with the fact that it was he who made jack who he is. however, when harassment charges are brought against jack...they will both have to take it, even if eli suffers from it not directly

Naib's and Jack's life is a classic case of abuse. The boy suffers a lot from his father, hates him for it and even acknowledges it. But at the same time he's still attached to his only parent and loves him. During peaceful days, when jack's calm and sober, they can even spend some time together and naib enjoys these moments. Naib still would take care of his father. As for jack, he forgets about the boy most of the time, leaves him home alone for hours and the only company are maids that come to clean a couple of times a week and couriers that bring food and nervously glance at the neglected child (especially when Naib was just a little boy). It negatively affected jack's work only in the beginning, when he had to take care of his toddler and lacked sleep and relaxation time. Norton surely noticed that there was something more behind the facade of a proud single father.

Around average people (who's not as close) Jack keeps his image strong so people didn't notice the signs. Often celebrities tend to turn out to be actually awful people behind the closed doors. i wanted to base Jack's (and Norton's kinda) character on that. I think Jack would have rarely showed his child to the public, or when he did, he would threaten Naib to act like a perfect son, always smiling and keeping quiet. We can also imagine him in sponsor clothes. And, seeing the cute boy in cute little outfit, the public will only be happy and touched, not suspecting that something is wrong. If we remember about eli, he can carefully deal with nosy journalists, not giving them a chance to unravel the truth. so yeah, no one would ever help naib. his father's agent doesnt care, norton is a predator, teachers at school would close their eyes on everything and happily receive charitable donations from Naib's father, and he doesnt even have friends to care about his state.

Norton and Naib will start a relationship. Naib will naively consider it love, while Norton will only use him, giving false hope for emotional closeness to make it easier to manipulate. But who knows how their relationship will develop further ... will they ever be able to come to something healthy?

Norton is like that because, growing up while getting showered with affection, made him think that hes superior to other people and has every right to control the ones who are weaker. and Naib is definitely like a helpless lamb to him. At least in the beginning. With time Norton will get used to Naib and.. maybe he will even start loving the boy. It will happen unnoticed by him, of course, and there will be small signs: at first he'd hope to meet naib as soon as possible not only for sex but for a conversation, he will look at some pieces of clothing or other things in the store and think that naib would love them, he will start to genuinely take care of the boy and get happy seeing him smile. Fondness will replace lust but this transition would be so slow that Norton wouldn't get scared and instead will embrace it.

some more sketches with them

PS: i think i should come up with a name for this AU so its easier to refer to it... also i will continue to edit this post as i keep adding details. and i have nsfw sketches of them in my twitter or telegram channel (nickname's the same as here)

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Big Picture

Vio & Shadow-focused Four Swords Manga Adaptation | Rated G

Chapter 5: Realm Overworld

Vio groans, twirling his pen in his hand. He should have looted a pencil instead—or anything, really, with an eraser. He needs to focus on what matters, what is certain, what will actually help him and the others accomplish their goal.

- Is my existence inherently less divine than that of Link Prime? Do I exist in accordance with the Goddess’s will, or in spite of it? Am I only meant to be temporary? If Link didn’t like fish but I like fish, is there a chance I might like other foods he didn’t like? - When can I meet a horse?

Read the chapter on ao3 (ideal) or under the cut:

MARCH

Vio likes this part of being a person. Leaning up against a tree, he smiles to himself as he flips through the pages of a book. It’s a strangely topical resource, looted from a Castle Town bookshop during the group’s brief travel preparations. In addition to this volume, Vio had also helped himself to a blank journal, a beginner’s guide to dark magic (don’t worry about it), and a vampire romance novel.

This particular passage discusses Force Gems, a sort of magical currency that can power up the Four Swords. Just as the Blue Maiden had said, they seem to be the key to defeating Shadow Link and rescuing Princess Zelda. It’s still slightly unclear to Vio how exactly one generates and collects the Force Gems, but he supposes a practical study might make things more obvious.

“Bring it on, Blue!” shouts Green, mid-spar. He and Blue face off in a nearby clearing, bathed in sunlight. Compared to those two, Vio has found that he much prefers the shade—yet another difference between him and the original Link. Vio reminds himself to record that later in his journal.

“Here I come, Green,” counters Blue with a growl. Vio watches the two clash, making sure not to seem too interested. The blades of the Four Swords release tiny triangles each time they make contact. Blue and Green count together as they generate Force.

“Five!” Green exclaims with a competitive green. “Can you beat that?”

“I’ve got 40... 42.”

Vio manages to contain his scoff.

“But doing this is a pain,” says Blue, dropping his sword into the grass. “Isn’t there a way we can recharge these things faster?”

Vio glances down and flips a page, as if only just tuning in now. “Well,” he says, “this book does mention Force Gems.”

Blue raises an eyebrow, while Green rests against his sword. “Is that the one you stole from Castle Town?”

“It’s not stealing if the shop owners abandoned their post. Also, I’m the Hero of Hyrule.”

“We’re the heroes of Hyrule,” Green gently corrects.

“And this book is essential to our success,” counters Vio. “If it makes you feel better, I swear to return it once the kingdom is saved.”

Not for the first time, he feels a very specific pang of dread. Once the kingdom is saved, there won’t be a reason for any of them to exist. Vio understands this, logically, but still doesn’t know how to reconcile it with his present existence.

“Just tell us what your stupid book says,” says Blue, recapturing Vio’s attention. His mind does seem to wander far more frequently than Link’s—another observation for the journal.

“They’re condensed nuggets of life energy found in certain places,” Vio summarizes, dumbing down the far more elaborate text. Yet another thing the four don’t seem to have in common: reading comprehension.

“That’s much better than sparring,” says Green, more to the reflection in his sword than to anyone else. “Maybe we can find some, together.”

Meanwhile, Blue decides to heckle Vio. “You can’t read that any faster?”

Vio deliberately slows down. “It takes time to really learn anything. Try some patience.”

“Patience takes too long! I want to fight Shadow Link now!”

“And promptly lose again?” Vio scoffs, shutting his book. “Please.” He stands, ignoring Blue as he fumes, and joins Green and Red for dinner.

Vio has to admit, Red did a great job setting up camp. He pitched the tents with no complaint or issue, caught fresh fish from a nearby stream, and managed to skewer and roast them over a campfire. Even Blue seems to relax slightly as he sits down on a rock.

Red adds some final seasoning (also looted) with a smile. “I sparked the fire up with my Four Sword!”

Blue smirks. “Did it make a Force Gem?”

“I don’t think so.” Red turns to Vio, eyes wide. “Should it have?”

“You’re fine, Red. Blue’s just antagonizing you.”

“Oh! That’s fun!”

Blue bites the head off of his fish, clearly displeased with the reaction.

“Well, I’m glad you all can take it easy,” Green sighs, examining his blade for what feels like the millionth time. “I know we can’t rush things, but we have to repower our swords before the darkness gets too strong.”

Vio pictures Shadow Link, working with even more power than he’d possessed during their last encounter. Not only would that spell certain death for the heroes, but he’d probably also be super annoying about it.

“We can’t do it all tonight, ” says Red, offering Green a skewer. “So sit down, and let’s eat!”

─────────────────

Shadow watches the heroes from a safe distance, cloaked in the post-sunset twilight. Three of them turn in for the night, heading to their conveniently color-coded tents, leaving the purple one to keep watch. Based on observation, this hero prefers to work independently than collaborate with the others. It makes sense that he’d volunteer to stay out here alone, writing in a journal and completely missing Shadow’s nearby presence.

With the purple hero distracted, this seems like as good a time as any for Shadow to put his plan into motion. From the outcropping where he stands, he motions to an inconspicuous rock by the heroes’ dying campfire. At his call, the rock cracks open like a geode—but instead of a crystal inside, there’s a bloodshot eyeball.

Not a top-tier lackey, Shadow is aware. But hinoxes and dragons would be far less subtle, and his current goal is to remain undetected. And there’s only so much Shadow can pick up from a distance—having a spy, capable of relaying the heroes’ quieter conversations, has been both useful and entertaining.

The rock-creature Arrghus rolls its way over to Shadow, still failing to capture the purple hero’s attention. At the edge of the elevated outcropping, it launches itself into the air and lands directly on Shadow’s shoulder.

Shadow grins, his arms crossed over his chest. “The four fools won’t quit, huh?”

“Nope! Nope!” says Arghus, through no mouth Shadow can see.

“Did you hear where exactly they’re going?” Shadow asks, slightly insecure that he himself hasn’t been able to acquire that information. This path technically spans across the entire Overworld, so they could plan to leave it anywhere.

“The Village of the Blue Maiden!” chirps Arrghus. Ah.

Fondly, Shadow holds the small creature. It seems to enjoy pats, and Shadow enjoys having something to do with his hands.

He could definitely go without the giggling, though.

“Well done, my pet,” Shadow coos, tickling Arrghus beneath the eyeball. Yeah, still weird.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shadow watches the purple hero turn a page. His bangs fall over his face as he scribbles determinedly. “The heroes seem surprisingly well-educated on the nature of Force Gems.”

“Yep! Yep!”

Shadow’s expression sours. “Well, then. We’ll just have to smash them to bits before they restore the Four Sword.”

The purple hero chuckles to himself. Shadow wonders, only for a second, what he could have possibly found so funny.

“Now off you go,” Shadow says, drawing back his hand. He throws Arrghus towards the camp, watching it bounce off walls of rock on its way down. “Remember to keep an eye on them!”

Shadow laughs at his own pun. Now, that’s hilarious. There’s no way those stuck-up heroes are having more fun than he is.

─────────────────

Link Vio’s Field Guide Day 7 of Individual Existence Research - Means of acquiring Force Gems: combat, overworld exploration (more TBD) Observations - Light exposure preferences: Partial shade for R, full sunlight for G&B, full shade for V. If memory serves, Prime preferred partial, but unsure - V’s attention span is highly selective, stronger regarding topics of interest and weaker otherwise (compared to Prime, others unsure). Later: cross-reference with diagnostic criteria for attention deficit disorders - Prime did not enjoy seafood. This evening RBGV had lovely fish skewers Inquiries - Why is it called the Village of the Blue Maiden, when the Blue Maiden resides in Hyrule Castle? - Is it stealing if I’m we’re I’m the hero? - Could Prime be charged for V’s crimes? -What will happen to RBGV after the Princess is saved? -Can Prime and RBGV exist simultane -What is the point of

Vio groans, twirling his pen in his hand. He should have looted a pencil instead—or anything, really, with an eraser. He needs to focus on what matters, what is certain, what will actually help him and the others accomplish their goal.

- Is my existence inherently less divine than that of Link Prime? Do I exist in accordance with the Goddess’s will, or in spite of it? Am I only meant to be temporary? If Link didn’t like fish but I like fish, is there a chance I might like other foods he didn’t like? - When can I meet a horse?

Vio turns the page. Clearly, his mind is not in a productive place. It has been a long week of travel, with very little time alone to reflect. He might as well allow his mind to wander, just for a while.

Entry: Day 7 “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” A quote from one of the books I acquired in Castle Town. Like many other words on many other pages, the sentiment feels relevant to my unique predicament. While I have been cut from the same cloth as my fellow travelers, I can’t shake the feeling that the pattern from which I have been crafted is profoundly different, perhaps even defective. Of course, we all might feel that way, and just not discuss it. There is much we refuse to discuss, we the four heroes created from one, whose existence may be as temporary as the Four Swords we now seek to recharge. If I may pose a dangerous question: what would happen if we failed in our endeavors? Surely, the Princess would perish. Hyrule would suffer, blanketed in darkness. The Wind Mage and the hero’s demon shadow would see to our deaths to ensure the security of their victory. There is no survival in the case of my survival, so it’s simply not worth further consideration. So I really, really must stop considering. A distraction may be helpful. Now that I understand the nature of the Force Gems, I would benefit from another topic to research. I suppose it would be advantageous to better understand our enemies—the structure of their ranks, the exact powers they do and do not possess, why and how exactly the demon hero came into existence. I could certainly sink my teeth into those mysteries, leaving less time to spiral into existential dread. Also—and I apologize, Goddess, if this very thought defies your will—a better understanding of our enemy might just lead to a comprehensible reality in which we four heroes can survive. A hypothetical reality, of course. I wouldn’t delude myself into believing that I

Vio’s writing hand freezes. Something has shifted, in his surroundings… something small, but audible nonetheless. The breeze displacing forest brush, or a squirrel crossing the clearing where they’ve set up camp. For a second, Vio fears that his thoughts had offended the Goddess—but surely, a deity wouldn’t be so fragile.

It was a natural occurrence. Vio should get back to writing.

On a lighter note, today I met a raccoon. Red named it “Stripes,” because it had stripes.

Vio chuckles at the memory. Then, he sighs.

I am lonely. The others attempt to include me, and we obviously share plenty of qualities, but there still remains a new and unexamined part of my personhood that feels profoundly out of place. One week into my existence, I have realized that I would like others to regard me just as I have learned to regard myself—not entirely detached from the hero, but as one who may simply step to a different drum.

Satisfied, Vio shuts his journal. He surveys the dark forest clearing, so he can at least claim to the next person on watch that he’s been doing his job.

His eyes lock onto a nearby rocky outcropping, more a cliff than anything. For a second, he thinks he may see a figure up there, but then it disappears.

Probably a raccoon, Vio tell himself, reaching into his pack for some light reading. He withdraws the vampire novel, which he had hastily selected based on its dark aesthetic and the handsome young man on the cover. There’s a woman there, too, held tight in the vampire’s arms. She looks kind of like Zelda, Vio supposes. He appreciates her hair.

Had Link ever held Zelda like this? Vio honestly can’t quite remember. Even if the original hero had gone through the physical motions of holding the princess, any accompanying warm feelings are now unreachable. Not for the first time, Vio wonders why that could possibly be, and whether the others have lost those feelings too.

Oh, well, thinks Vio. Nothing I need to worry about right now.

He opens the book and his mind wanders elsewhere.

[exsanguidus]

{ HEADCANON }

Despite all the complaints, moaning, groaning, and general grief Astarion can exhibit throughout the course of the adventure to get to Baldur's Gate, and while within it, the time spent with Tav and the other companions is the happiest and most fun he'd had in his life thus far.

He would never admit that, nor would he ever admit that, along the way, he did come to care for every companion and their well-being. Furthermore, spending time with them all and even just observing them allowed him to open his mind and internalize new ideals and opinions.

By no means where they the perfect group and there are certainly some he liked more than others, but all of them had managed to come together and bond over the shared experience of having parasites.

At first, he didn't like knowing that the parasites could link all of their minds and share such intimate perspectives and details. He was fearful of one of them using it against him to try and manipulate him the ways Cazador had. Yet, none ever did. If the tadpole's powers were to be used, it was simply to give information, not to take it.

Over time, there was a sort of odd comfort in the way the tadpoles would ring out important details of the day, like a routine report, as they all settled into camp to process next steps.

At first, he only gave out his perspective of when he ventured out. What he noticed about the body language of one of their villains,, a noted location of something interesting he spotted that they couldn't get around to that day. Just enough to do his part in adding to the puzzle of the Illithid scheming.

He can't be sure at what point he started giving more to everyone once Tav had manage to lower his walls with their persistence. His additions to nightly tadpole reports started including more: an opinion on what he thinks should be done with information learned, his feelings towards certain encounters, and even little bits and pieces of moments he felt fearful.

They all learned of his aversion to tombs and the anxious unease he feels inside them and of how hard it can be for him to say no even if he wants to in just little slips of feelings ever so gently knitted into the undertones of their parasitic telepathies.

In a way, it reminded him of his brothers and sisters under Cazador. They were all bonded by a shared trauma. But this was a different sort of assembled family. Cazador's spawn may have called one another family, but there was never hesitation to betray if the chance to gain Cazador's favor and mercy arose.

The adventuring group of parasite-afflicted weirdos held respect for one another even when their values did not align and they could have easily turned against each other. Yet, each day and no matter the chaotic events turning around them, each night in camp they gave one another grace. When one of them suffered, each held compassion and empathy regardless of their opinion on the matter. It took him time to follow that model and internalize it.

It was strange to see, and even stranger to experience when he was at the receiving end of such grace, compassion, and empathy when the time neared he would confront Cazador. He had not expected any of them to care, let alone to root for him and cast him supportive glances and nods of their heads. He did not expect any of them to go out of their way to venture into the horrid Szaar Palace with him or stand with him to lend him their strength when the beast that was his master stood before him to look down and sneer.

Their collective story had to come to an end, of course, and with that each companion to grasp their lives anew. He doesn't seek any of them out, though Tav does keep in touch with some and he can get glimpses of what became of them all, but they are each individuals that he will be sure to remember in his immortal life as a family that he needed to allow him a future of his own design. For that, should they ever seek him out, he would welcome them.

[impossiblefestivalearthquake]

The Importance of Regular Plumbing Maintenance in Belmont WA

Introduction

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[fantasy-fields-danger-zone]

Normal Swap!Shedletsky bitty

Name: Shedletsky

Size: 6 - 8 inches (Mini), 2'0 - 2'8 feet (Fullsize)

Personality: Calm, Collected, and charismatic in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Likes: Orderly environments, Polishing tools and weapons, Psychological games and subtle manipulation, Watching others squirm under pressure

Dislikes: Being underestimated, Unplanned chaos, Weak-willed individuals

Compatibility: There's an odd charm to how they move and speak, but something always feels off. Their words often carry a double meaning, and they enjoy watching how others react to the unease they create.

They love pushing boundaries- sometimes literally- through games of chicken, where they’ll come dangerously close to collisions or attacks, only to pull back at the last second, thrilled by the adrenaline and reaction.

They tend to prefer quiet, structured homes or environments where their control can go unchallenged. Not ideal for chaotic households or homes with bitties who like to stir things up. Those with a strong will and sharp mind may be able to form a strange yet stable relationship with them.

They speak with intention, always sounding just a little too confident, a little too rehearsed- like they’re playing a role only they know the end to.

Feeding habits: Not particularly picky, but surprisingly fond of fried chicken.

Additional info: Bribes with chicken drumsticks work shockingly well- they love their fried chicken,

They somehow always have a sword on their person, Their sword is usually invisible, only appearing mid-slash

Zone: Inside,

In Universe: They are seen as both a strategist and a wildcard,

Difficulty: Advanced

[butterflysociety]

 𓂅 ⸙ pick a pile ; past life edition ❀

Cards ; Fairy Oracle illustrated by Arthur Rackham and written by Jaymi Elford, Dungeons & Dragons Tarot Deck, Prisma Vision Tarot, Wild Unknown Tarot

Note ; Reincarnation can extend past than just one (1) reality, whatever you got from your pile chosen may contradict your current world's history due to xyz logic listed. Anyone can have past lives that can't be perceived easily from current lifetime's lens.

Ꮺ pile 1 ; Oracle Cards ; 11(Secrets), 36(Rejoice), 23(The Collector) Tarot Cards ; 7 of Cups(Upright), 9 of Pentacles(Reversed), Temperance(Reversed), 10 of Wands(Upright), 2 of Pentacles(Reversed), Knight of Cups(Upright), 10 of Swords(Upright), 3 of Cups(Reversed) Additional Cards ; The Fool(Upright), King of Wands(Reversed), Illumination(Upright), The Star(Upright), Page of Chalices(Upright) Back of Deck: Knight of Chalices(Reversed) Astrodice ; 10H Pisces Neptune, 9H Scorpio Mars, 4H Taurus Jupiter

Once we lived an illusion we soon realised we could not live up to.

Pile 1's were definitely incredibly charming and deceitful people in their past life. Able to wrap people around their finger, yet still reliant on other's validation and with a terrible sense of self. Possibility of Pile 1's working in the service industry, or something more mundane such as an office job where they overcommitted to their job. In a sense, this persona they put on is a heavy illusion that even managed to delude themselves into thinking this was reality. It seemed as though Pile 1's had a relatively easy early life, comfortable and simple. However, in a strange sense, even that is an illusion for what was about to come.

Pile 1's are dedicated individuals, likely interested in religion and passionate about learning. Due to their relatively easy early life, they were quite naïve. Pile 1's in their past lives were also an easily obsessive person. When they loved, they loved deep and were easily obsessed and engrossed in whatever they were currently passionate about. They feel incredibly deeply. Pile 1's seem very childish in maturity.

Somewhere around your later years, 25 onward a betrayal happened. This could be a romantic betrayal via a spouse, or a workplace betrayal via gossipy coworkers due to Pile 1's commitment to their job. Because of Pile 1's easy early life and naivete, this betrayal wounded them deeply to a point they lost sight of who they truly were, falling deep into addiction and a desire for salvation, to find a sense of paradise and peace, which led to them starting a cult. This cult, detached from society became Pile 1's safe haven, a false reality of paradise purged of the evil. As Pile 1's natural charm is quite strong, they easily collected people into their cult and their secrets too due to their trustworthy appearance. Pile 1's may not have had any malicious intentions while creating this cult, but the cult brought more harm than good.

Pile 1 may know about magic in the process of creating this cult as well, which is how the cult prospered for so long enough with improvised rules and ideals set altogether. This has strengthened their ambitious goal to create the safe haven for anyone who felt the same way, as they get drowned into this insecurity wanting more to chase after the perfect vision emerged from the "beautiful destruction". Loneliness after they lost the grounding support of their family passing away (extended branch on the other hand? Pile 1 couldn't bring themselves to reach out to them or they don't know their locations), and then the betrayal? Pile 1 rather set this strict compass to find their people instead, closing off their heart with bittersweet illusions. Their cult is their beloved family they looked after, nobody can steal that away from them– not even the traitors within who are similar to the past backstabber could stop their control.

Alas, there comes the demise at their early age. Pile 1's eternal passionate obsession in experimenting a plan to reinforce this cult and demolish any enemies standing in the way led them to dying in overconsuming magic. There's a stage for the usual meeting interrupted by the enemies, the dramatic fire emerging from Pile 1 which soon made them realise that everything they worked so hard for creating this cult is a complex illusion stemmed from their endless hurt from a wound that never healed. The split second before death is pure regret, and they spent their last moments wishing for a better chance in the next life where they could've been more mature and sharp than their past self when hurt by the backstabber. There's nothing genuinely deep from the cult members' bond, only mutual cycle of worsening each other.

Reasons for reincarnating in this lifetime of this world; Pile 1 wanted a better chance to redo their lifetime by seeking genuine connections in this world. Despite their habit to control everything, they tried to get another perspective from the different, current experiences that they felt hurt from which led them to clarity and wisdom. There may be more karmic connections they have to go through here, nevertheless it didn't deter them from taking the choice in meeting others who inspired the change. You might've regretted alot of actions you made in this current past, but that doesn't make you a bad person. As long as you take responsibility of your own actions, you improve yourself.

trinkets ; Aponia (Honkai Impact 3rd), weeping angels, battle flames, war, fire engulfing paintings, renaissance paintings, three of cups image, 2222, disharmony, imbalance, deep blue, sword, alcohol, quiche, silver cutlery, meeting many people as a leader, outdoors, glass, white veils

─── ･ ｡ﾟ❁ : .☽ .* :۰🌷 . ───

Ꮺ pile 2 ; Oracle Cards ; 33(Community Celebration), 30(Distraction), 25(Revaluation) Tarot Cards ; 5 of Swords(Reversed), 6 of Wands(Upright), Ace of Swords(Upright), 6 of Swords(Upright), 2 of Swords(Upright), The Hanged Man(Reversed), 7 of Pentacles(Upright), Justice(Upright) Astrodice ; 11H Leo Saturn, 11H Libra Saturn, 8H Aries North Node

We wish silently without ever bypassing the boundaries of here and there.

Pile 2 is born into family debt. Some form of injustice occurred in their childhood that led them to be born into a struggling family. There are two younger siblings or well family figures who ended up leading very different lives, who Pile 2 has had to provide for during their high school years. Pile 2 is an outgoing, popular person. Pile 2 is also known in their school for being a very pretty and kind person. It seemed in High School, people had crushes on Pile 2, and Pile 2 is a serviceable soul. Pile 2 lives to help others, striving to be around people and social connections constantly. Pile 2 is easily influenced as a person. Due to peer pressure, Pile 2 lost themselves in partying all night and day in their High School years, and because of this felt an awful guilt because they wanted to do well in school to be able to provide for their family. It seems there was also a love triangle between two love interests during High School, or two choices Pile 2 had to choose between. Sometime, Pile 2 is given the opportunity to travel for an internship program abroad, where they are alone by themselves and start to rediscover who they are. There's an abundance of opportunity in this internship program, and they begin to study harder again and step back from needing to please everyone.

Pile 2 went to a relatively local university, before landing a job as a government official of sorts, Pile 2 works in the field of law or the government, something along those lines. They married rich and into authority, and had possibly two children. In terms of their siblings, one most likely became addicted to drugs and died of overdose at 28, whereas the other one lived a simple life as an office worker with a wife and three kids. Illness struck a family member, and Pile 2 lost someone (A parental figure) due to illness. Pile 2 has always tried to provide for their family especially after marriage, but restrictions from the spouse had prevented them from helping their family as much as they'd like.

Pile 2's relationship with their spouse (Most likely a dominant male figure who has placed too many restrictions on Pile 2's lifestyle) seems to be a little bit rocky, but not exactly hard to live with. There are disagreements and feelings of restriction within the relationship(on Pile 2's end), but both have the best interests for their children and put their differences aside when needed. The relationship seemed to have started as a Mentor and a Trainee. The marriage between the spouse and Pile 2 seemed to be one of convenience, where the spouse saw a pretty person and Pile 2 saw money. There doesn't seem to be romantic feelings between the two that go beyond lust or financial reasons. Pile 2 seems to have building up feelings of resentment due to the restrictive feeling of their lifestyle, feeling unfulfilled. There is an innate desire to travel left unaccomplished, burdened with the lifestyle of parenthood and their job.

Pile 2 died peacefully of old age, and their desire for reincarnation is simply a chance of a less restrictive lifestyle ready to travel and see the world. Overall, Pile 2 lived a relatively and painfully normal lifestyle, where they never truly discovered who they were or what they wanted. Due to the feeling of accomplishment from their past life, they desire to figure out their life purpose and a desire for freedom. There's a strong urge to see the world in this life and a strong urge to break past society's restrictions and an even stronger urge to truly discover who they are. I can see that Pile 2's are quite into astrology and tarot, more spiritually inclined people.

If you picked this pile, you seem to also be quite an impulsive soul in this life, and seemingly are quite self assured. You desire to live for yourself, not anyone else due to this past life.

It is also a reminder that in this life, to be careful of being too impulsive and to not jump into things without thinking. Freedom comes with responsibility, and while in your past life you were burdened with too much, this life is about finding balance, not the other end of the spectrum.

trinkets ; aries rising, straight brown hair with a braid, olive skin, round brown eyes, flatter face, high school uniform, government spy, rocky river, hippie culture, impulsivity, 333, 444, enfj (past life), esfp, 7w6, creative arts, manic pixie dream girl, skateboarding, running around in the city with friends, SpyxFamily (vibes), gemini moon, 222, february

─── ･ ｡ﾟ❁ : .☽ .* :۰🌷 . ───

Ꮺ pile 3 ; Oracle Cards ; 31(Gossip), 20(Demise), 5(Tribe) Tarot Cards ; 4 of Cups(Upright), 7 of Swords(Reversed), The Hierophant(Reversed), The Chariot(Upright), Knight of Pentacles(Upright), 6 of Pentacles(Upright), 5 of Wands(Reversed), Page of Cups(Upright) Additional Cards ; The Fool(Upright), 6 of Swords(Reversed), 4 of Wands(Upright), the Magician(Reversed), King of Wands(Upright) Back of the deck ; The World(Upright) and Queen of Pentacles(Upright) Astrodice ; 9H Cancer Sun, 7H Aquarius South Node, 10H Taurus Pluto

Those who accepted the darkness as part of themselves, are the ones who finds empowerment.

Pile 3 is your true villain who's above mindless slaughtering, outward power and forced influence. I can see that this is set in medieval era, the story starts when Pile 3 gets betrayed by their tribe/community who's supposed to hold them up as they should (especially their parents, but they're relatively toxic). They're accused for something they didn't do, making them an outlaw on the run as the government officials believed in the accusation. There's tearful bitterness towards this situation, yet Pile 3 quickly took up the phrase from the tribe, "If you wanted me to be the bad guy so badly, then I'll be the bad guy!".

For the sake of surviving, Pile 3 is forced to learn how the cruelties of the world works, right after they experienced the wonders back when they're a child. From manipulation to necessary crimes committed, each tool adding up to their belt that they became feared as the villain by the name even if the public doesn't know entirely of their actions. The evasive wit to cover their presence all the time is what Pile 3 is capable of doing, like they said before you're doing it wrong if your crime is public known when you're supposed to do it discreetly.

Despite this route they chosen, there was a thrill everytime they efficiently executed the plan that crumbles all of the domino blocks. The freeing feeling when they could travel to anywhere else they wanted to see sights they never seen before, all the while doing their own thing at their own pace. There's also helping those worthy of their attention, for example stealing the rich to give the poor they needed of, which also led them to somehow recruiting group members that will follow them loyally. These said members accepted their offer to resolve their long-term problem plaguing their life (ranging from financial situation to life purpose).

Both Pile 3 and the gang are inseparable as a team even if their connections are strictly mastermind-minions. Normally Pile 3 wouldn't get attached as they closed off their heart after the betrayal, but overtime they get really attached to their group they recruited who does the same to their leader as well. Honestly I would say I almost cried from this wholesomeness of chaotic dysfunctional found family–

Unfortunately, Pile 3's story comes to an end when they protected one of their members from danger of a situation that's unlike anything they faced. Pile 3 overexerted themselves to reach this far, which caused them to unable to sustain themselves much enough. The public and Pile 3's gang sees them as this untouchable force who's strong, very powerful and clever– it's a huge shock that they would see this true villain fall to their death by sacrificing themselves selflessly. Especially their found family who were in grief rage that their beloved leader who they see as their pseudo-parent, completely destroyed the battlefield and cried for Pile 3 to come back again. Pile 3 could only smile at the times they spent together, a wish that they live normally without the burdens of villainy.

That wish is what got Pile 3 to reincarnate here, to see their found family again and experience a second chance where they're only civilians living a fulfilling life full of experiences. Also, I'm getting the feeling that the found family has turned into your soul family who followed by your side to this same lifetime. You may or may not have met everyone else together here, the feeling that something clicked just by conversing alone. This lifetime is a chance to heal from your past life that pushed you to be the villain, to reclaim back your inner power and redefine how you view this reality, to live a life.

trinkets ; Lilith (the goddess), 4444, 9999, 000, entj, intj, infp, 8w9, 3w4, black cloak, silver hair, glowing eyes, a group behind the leader (you), bundle of apples, thorny throne, huge castle, burning fields, tears on cheeks, fantasy, warmth from the hugs, blankets, the word "empowerment", books, "We're family, right?", "I missed you so much", "Come back to us, please.."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ❁ : .☽ .* :۰🌷 . ───

Ꮺ pile 4 ; Oracle Cards ; 35(Take Flight), 18(Rejection), 1(Connection) Tarot Cards ; Page of Wands(Upright), 8 of Pentacles(Upright), 4 of Swords(Upright), Ace of Cups(Upright), The Tower(Upright), The Lovers(Upright), 3 of Pentacles(Reversed), 6 of Cups(Reversed)

Additional Cards ; The Towers (Reversed), 10 of Pentacles (Upright), 3 of Wands (Upright), 4 of Wands (Upright), The Sun (Upright)

Back of the deck ; Page of Chalices (Reversed) Astrodice ; 1H Capricorn Sun, 6H Gemini Pluto, 5H Libra Neptune

Dedication with fixation births the wildest creations.

Pile 4 is either the mad scientist or a genius inventor, also a huge mood throughout this previous lifetime. A gifted student who might be neurodivergent (this may resonate to some taking this pile). Emotionally constipated due to their childhood when the adults present undermines their dreams after they presented it. These ideas coming up from their mind completely contradicts the norms which they looked impossible to be made into reality, which is why they're put down to choose other ambitions instead. But of course, they don't listen to those people as they eventually take studies to support their path. I can definitely see them having multiple degrees at high levels, because with this way they can gain valuable tools for their own personal goals.

Into their near adult stage, their hardworking nature dedicated to communicate and finalise their creations landed them to be popular amongst other geniuses acknowledging their originality. This presence spreaded throughout the world the moment one of their inventions managed to cause an evolution to the era they lived in, by the way completely proving the past people who put them down wrong. Pile 4 is such a girlboss honestly, because they don't really care much of their reputation other than whether they have access to their resources to make things or not that enriches their life with constant intellectual simulation. They're really knowledgeable in their field too, taking their research and studies seriously at their own league.

Pile 4 has connections with those who took interest and know the importance in their inventions, has alot of acquaintances and very few friends. I'm seeing that they have at least an assistant who helped out in their workshop, mostly to have an alike mind that bounces off ideas at each other despite the obvious gap in the fields. There were many opportunities taken such as travelling abroad to personally make something commissioned by the clients, experimenting with coworkers and collabing for a big invention (again to change the world).

For their personal life, despite the Lovers card there's no interest in romance. I'm getting the feeling that Pile 4's appalled "No, wtf??" when they're asked too many times about their "dating life", they really genuinely only focused on finding the truth in new things they seek to obtain. They were given many options to pursue sure, however they chose to stick by their path to creation. This entire lifetime is solely about reconstructing from their childhood to just simply express their creativity through something they're passionate of and show it to the world when they want to.

Pile 4 died in old age out of sheer will (and spite those who doubted they can create as many inventions as they want), with their last words that still projected their sarcastic humor that says something like "If you want to take inspo just at least credit me, otherwise I'll sue you from afterlife you would get your inventions destroyed in thin air!!!" plastered on their grave by their demand to. In the midst of seeing their friends' tears, they really have to make the last impression to them so it will remain in their memories forever that way and not miss them too much, otherwise that would be too sad (I can't with interpreting this pile right now, even my wording is getting affected 😭 ~Infi).

Out of all of the piles channelled here, Pile 4 you really reincarnated out of slight boredom and came here to gain a new skillset. Why? Because you simply wanted to. Not to mention that this is a pick a pile that uses spiritual tools to get answers from spirituality and intuition, it's safe to assume that you're really curious of learning spirituality by coming into this current lifetime to do so. Since you simulated enough of your brain with inventions from the past, you decided to dip your toes into something completely new. You may or may not have the urge to share what you discovered to a like-minded community (if you're a private person, you share it to your group instead). Even when you're not known with what you shared, the most obvious trait is that you don't really use the methods from the community and instead stick by what it feels right to you in terms of handling your life (and/or Tarot reading too).

trinkets ; Mobius and Vill-V (Honkai Impact 3rd), 1111, 111, 777, 498, 345, entp, istp, 5w4, 5w6, beakers, science experiment set, dim ceiling lights, neon lights, notebooks stacked on top of each other, lightbulb, steampunk aesthetic, gears, machinery, oil smell, air conditioner, chairs, clocks, smirk, feline eyes, tied ponytail, cup noodles

[merakiui]

What do you think of the concept of yan!xiao, childe venti trapping their darling in a teapot?

I feel like they would be less restrictive since the darling wouldn't necessarily be able to escape most likely, so they wouldn't worry about restraint much. Esp in Ventis case...he is the God of freedom so while his darling isn't exactly 'free' they're still kinda free in a way that they have their own world to be free in?

Xiao would probably be somewhat restricted, but only just keep them in the house because he probably wouldn't trust them to be by themselves yet--he figures they may try to run off and hide from him or something

Childe would probably let them try to "escape" on purpose and would be absolutely amused when his darling finds out they wouldn't be able to leave

(cw: yandere, captivity, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mention of children and implied stockholm syndrome for childe’s part)

Venti doesn't exactly lie to you, but he does trick you. He's aware that it's not the nicest thing to do and that it's not exactly captivity if you're living in a world that resembles the one outside. Only this pocket-sized world is nicer and happier and there aren't any people to get in the way. He tells you about it when you're vulnerable. Maybe you're drunk or you're crying your eyes out because something horrible happened. Either way, you're not in the right state of mind when you make the comment: "I wish I could live in my own ideal world for just one day." And this is great news for Venti because it makes relocation so much easier.

He shows you the teapot and explains it briefly, leaving out certain details. It's better if you don't know everything about how the teapot works. After all, ignorance is bliss. Venti tells you how to get in, but he doesn't tell you how to get out. And the way he describes it makes it sound so tempting—as if living inside this teapot for a bit will cure whatever's bothering you. You decide it wouldn't hurt to spend a day or two inside the teapot to see the little world Venti holds in the palms of his hands.

It's a lot of fun at first. You and Venti glide from the top of the mountains in Emerald Peak, he sings melodious ballads as you look up at the sky, and the two of you play hide-and-seek inside of the house, playfully popping out of rooms and laughing when you’re caught. Eventually the charm wears off and you start to yearn for the outside world. It’s not the same in the teapot. As pretty and peaceful as it may be, it still feels so empty. And when you bring it up to Venti he finds small ways to change the subject. It probably plays out like this:

“Venti, I’d like to go home now.”

“But we were just about to play another round of hide-and-seek! Come on! Don’t be a spoilsport! One more round? Then we’ll leave.”

Or he’ll tell you that you’re already home. There’s always a big smile on his face when he says stuff like that. He’s happy that he gets to spend so much time with you and no one can interfere. But it does get annoying when you start to beg for the old world. Your pleas to leave will fall upon his deaf ears. Venti does feel a little bad when you start to sulk, but his sympathy is short-lived. Let’s not forget that you were the one who wanted this. You wanted to live in your ‘ideal world.’ And isn’t this ideal?

As an adeptus, Xiao is aware of Sub-Space Creation and the effort it takes to construct a presentable teapot. He’s been working hard on his ever since you came into his life. Before he knew you he didn’t have a reason to put effort into it because he stays at Wangshu Inn, but after he met you he started working a lot harder. He tries to make the teapot as comfortable as possible. You mentioned you like dogs or cats in passing? You can find a few in the teapot. You said you like berry bushes and flower fields? There’s a bunch in his teapot. He probably has a nearly perfect model of your room in there as well. Before he brings you into the teapot, he’ll often sit in that room and make sure everything replicates the original, down to the bed frame and the fabric used for the pillow case.

He’ll put some of your things in it just so it feels more personal. Xiao knows he’s stealing from you whenever he does this, but it’s not like you ever noticed anything was missing. Besides, it’s all going in the teapot anyways. You won’t even need your real room or mortal possessions anymore. Xiao is actually quite proud of the teapot and manages to fool himself into thinking you’ll like it, too. And you do (for the first few days, that is). He’s very forward with his question of whether or not you’d like to see his teapot. And you eagerly nod because the two of you are friends and Xiao wants to show you something he made and he looks a little…excited? There’s definitely light in his eyes when he gets your agreement to view the inside of his teapot.

Once you’re inside, you’re genuinely surprised. It’s far more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. The Floating Abode is a really gorgeous landscape. You’re so caught up in looking at the sunset and the flowers and the animals that roam the teapot that you aren’t aware of the horrors that lie just beyond. You’ll find the room that resembles yours in no time and it’s really creepy. As much as you try to tell yourself that Xiao means well and wouldn’t actually do something like this on purpose, it’s hard to ignore the fact that everything is practically identical to your room. It’s so, so strange. You want to ignore it, but you just can’t. It’s so obvious.

It’s definitely creepy, but you don’t have the heart to tell him.

You hold your tongue because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. You’re really the only close friend he has, so you’d feel bad if you insulted his interior decorating skills. Xiao’s pleased to hear that you like it so much. Praise falls from your lips like a waterfall and it gives him a sense of relief. He’s so happy that you like it and since you’re okay with it it’ll be fine if you live here. When he tells you that, your brain freezes and you’re not sure how to respond.

“Live here? Like…permanently?”

And to your shock he nods.

Xiao is far less lenient than Venti. With Venti everything feels like eternal, childish fun with the idea of freedom sprinkled in. But with Xiao it’s definitely a harsher form of captivity. You aren’t allowed outside because he’s worried you might fall off of the bridges that connect the floating islands or you might try to find your way out of the teapot. So you’re confined to the mansion. It’s got everything you could ever need and the interior design matches that of your home perfectly. Just treat it like it’s your own home and it won’t be so bad. You definitely try to see the good in this situation because you care about Xiao, but it’s so hard when he’s keeping you here like you’re just another addition to his teapot.

It’s miserable, but at least you can count on him to visit you every single day.

Childe is very receptive to the idea of owning his own little world in a small teapot. Maybe he was holding you captive before he came upon the teapot and while you’re sleeping he relocates you. You don’t expect to wake up in a new location, but you assume you’re still somewhere in Liyue. Childe finds it cute that you’re so startled, clearly confused with the change in scenery. And when you glance at the surroundings on the Cool Isle, it feels like you might have a chance. Childe seems to think so because he waves you off, telling you with the sincerest voice that you’re ‘free to go.’

You don’t need to be told twice and so you run because you’re invigorated. You can leave and he’s not coming after you. Childe doesn’t even raise his bow in warning. You’re actually leaving him and he’s letting you! But it feels too good to be true. A day passes and you learn that there’s no one else to help you. So you find an empty shack on the shoreline and you hide in it because survival is the only thing you know right now. And the day goes by, the night comes, and morning makes its arrival. You’re still safe. He hasn’t found you.

And it really feels like you can make it out of this. Even if there’s no one around, you can still find something to help you. You’d take anything at this point. By the end of the week, you’re losing sight of your goal and you really just want to head back to the mansion and nap on a comfortable bed. You’ve been catching the crabs and the fish and doing what you can to start a long-lasting fire. When Childe finds you, you’re so exhausted from running and hiding that you collapse into his arms. And he smiles so sweetly while he tells you something that shatters your entire world.

“You did well, comrade, but this isn’t Liyue. You have no need to run.”

It’s not even Teyvat. It’s another world entirely—one existing solely within a teapot. And everything comes crashing down when you realize just how impossible that makes any escape attempts. No human contact. No energy or life that comes from meeting with friends and seeing family. It truly does feel like you and he are the only people in this world.

Childe knows that you’ll adjust to this new world whether you like it or not. It was fun to toy with you in the beginning (and it still is) when you didn’t realize this was the world inside the teapot. But now he just wants to settle into a comfortable life. He takes every chance he has to visit you and eventually you’ll find yourself succumbing to the relaxing pleasures of domestic life. You learn how to cook delicious meals with Childe’s help, you collect seashells on the shore to cure your boredom, and you’ll take care of any chores or housework. It warms Childe’s heart to see you accepting this life.

Maybe the two of you can start a family. Maybe he should get a few pets to liven up the house. It’s not like you can get away from him while inside the teapot, so it’s a recipe for anything to happen. And you’ve come to learn that what happens in the teapot stays in the teapot.

[dungeons-and-dannys]

Eoth Khalstan’s Focused Encyclopaedia of Draconic Beings (a D&D bestiary with 60+ dragons!)

Discover many new and familiar draconic creatures in this extensive tome of dragons, dragonkind, and many things relating to dragons. You will find treasures to fill dragon hoards with, customisation options to add a bit of style to your dragons, and a myriad of plot hooks and personality traits to flesh those dragons out!

Part 1: Introduction

A brief summary of what to expect in this book with a note from Eoth himself.

Part 2: Magic Items

A short section providing eleven magic items that have ties to dragons. These items range from belts that give you the Constitution of a dragon, to a cloak that allows you to step through an extra-dimensional spectral head of a dragon and teleport, to a helm made from the skull of a blue dragon (let's just hope you're not seen wearing it by a friend of the deceased!), and more.

Part 3: Dragon Options

Here you'll find alternative traits and actions to swap for any dragon that exists outside of this supplement or within it. Swap that Frightful Presence for an aura that exhausts creatures around the dragon. Or you can swap it with an aura that gives disadvantage on Wisdom saving throws due to the sheer awesome presence of the dragon.

Part 4: Hoards & Hooks

This section offers tables upon tables to roll so you can make encounters with dragons more memorable. You get personality traits and ideals for the true dragons within the supplement, just so you can make each encounter with a dragon feel that bit more unique. Have a howling dragon that shouts all the time, or an axial dragon with a nervous tick that forces it to say "tock".

You can also find plot hooks for these dragons which allows you to use your favourite dragons multiple times in different scenarios. Can the party save linguistic professors who are being kidnapped by chole dragons who just want to learn how to speak? Can the party figure out why a certain mountainrange is stopping hikers from getting a good night's rest? Or can the party help a Tarterian dragon reform after a prison stint? These hooks and more will lead your party into interesting encounters.

Not only do you get tables for personality traits and plot hooks, but you also get hoard trinkets. Sure, finding magic items and gold is great, but it's always fun to find the strange and quirky items that each type of dragon likes to collect. Each hoard table is personalised per dragon!

Part 5: Dragon Bestiary

The largest section of this supplement is the bestiary containing over sixty different draconic creatures and over one hundred and seventy stat blocks.

Find an additional chromatic, gem, and metallic dragon alongside dragons that hail from each of the Outer Planes. Pit your players against the force of nature that is the stone dragon, or a dragon that can control the flow of time!

It's not purely dragons you will find here either! You'll find more drakes, as well as two types of draconic creatures that haven't really shown up in 5e yet: dragonets and linnorms. Be amused by the tiny dragonets and their strange quirks (and maybe even make some of them a familiar). Terrify your players with the dreadful linnorms, an ancient species that faces extinction and isn't too pleased about it. There are many friends and foes to be found in the book, and maybe you'll find your new favourite dragon!

Within this hoard (the supplement), you can find:

284 pages of dragon-y goodness.

Over  60 draconic creatures  that have over 170 stat blocks (using rules from Fizban's Treasury of Dragons and including many exciting greatwyrms!

Optional Legendary Actions  for all of the creatures presetned (if they don't already have legendary actions). Let any creature be a boss fight!

Alternative traits and actions for dragons in general OR tailored alternatives for dragons by scale type!

Pregenerated  lair rooms , objects to put customise a lair,  and traps to ward off greedy adventurers.

Tables with personality traits, ideals, plot hooks, and hoard items for the major dragons (and some smaller tables for the lesser dragons as well)!

All creatures  sorted by CR and also by creature type.

And all non-SRD spells mentioned throughout the supplement neatly collated at the end of the document (with 3 completely new spells)!

https://www.dmsguild.com/product/410146/Eoth-Khalstans-Focused-Encyclopaedia-of-Draconic-Beings 

Or you can find it at a discounted price bundled with my bestselling bestiary and guide to the Shadowfell & Feywild, Shadow & Twilight, here: https://www.dmsguild.com/product/416517/Dannys-Bestiary-Collection-BUNDLE

[steepgan]

someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered. 

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes. 

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so. 

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes. 

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar. 

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard. 

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill. 

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless. 

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being. 

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament. 

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” 

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.” 

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface. 

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong. 

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

“Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten. 

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness. 

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from. 

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat. 

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own. 

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

[flowerbloom-arts]

A 2434 word long fic about Fuddler talking to a maybe not actually real version of his father after trying to escape from a recent event in his life and failing. Now I would've written a 50s sitcom episode of Fuddler's family that would've lead up to this point if I had the motivation, but I didn't, so here you go. I hope you enjoy this!

---

The set of the show had become undone and the fourth wall was nothing but a non-existent window into the stage, the Muddler, tear stained and tired of his child's shenanigans, went up from the table he was crying at and walked to the empty director's chair with 'The Fuddler' embroidered on the back and sat on it. The Muddler grabbed the megaphone that sat on one of the armrests and spoke into it in a very clearly annoyed tone of voice: 'Cut. Take 2. Excuse me! That wasn't a bad first take but all of you really fell apart at scene 15.'

But the rest of the cast had been frozen in place, basically mannequins, all except Fuddler, who was in fact the mastermind behind this mess. The small and fuddly creature looked around in a slight bit of confusion and decided to walk up to his father on his director's chair, it did have his name on it afterall. 'Excuse me, aren't I supposed to be sitting there?' he asked rather sheepishly, there was a thought in the back of his head that knows exactly why but he's too afraid to make that thought even slightly tangible.

'Well, yes,' answered the Muddler matter-of-factly 'but due to poor management someone else had to take over.' he added, he spun the megaphone around and inspecting it in a rather disinterested manner. If it's anyone, it really didn't seem to be the father that Fuddler knew, even if he was stained with dark brown tears on his face and wore ragged feminine attire indicative of a mental breakdown, which was a sight that would only be familiar as the Muddler.

'Maybe. Though we should probably take a break, that breakdown didn't look all that... The breakdown seemed very exhausting to act out,' Said the Fuddler, trying to avoid going over this episode another time.

'Sure,' Muddler said, he didn't even care to glance at his child, he put down the megaphone on the floor and rested his face on his paw resting on the armrest, looking off to the black void beyond the set or nearby part of the studio.

Fuddler sighed with relief and a tinge of discomfort, he decided it was best to sit down next to his father and look back at the scene that was frozen in time. It was not even the slightest bit amusing to say the least, it's just everyone looking concerned over Muddler having a breakdown but Muddler isn't even there, you could see the Fuzzy, Fuddler's mother, placing a hand on what was Muddler's back, great uncle Hodgkins and Sniff are looking on confused and concerned, and Moomintroll had just walked in with not even the slightest idea of what's going on. The Fuddler stared at it for a few moments before saying what was on his mind while the scene was happening 'That... That breakdown... It wasn't in the script.'

'What script?' Muddler asked as if Fuddler was too dumb to even remember he didn't even make one. Of course there wasn't any script to speak of.

'I- I dunno!' Fuddler blurted out with the realization 'You guys were basically reading my mind anyway! I thought that was something like reading a script-!'

'Were we reading your mind or were you controlling us?' Muddler asked, almost cutting him off.

Fuddler was a bit surprised at the sudden interruption, it's really unlike his father to act anything close to this, is this even his father? Fuddler started to actually question everything about this, as if it wasn't a very obvious thing he should've questioned at the start. He looked down and curled up into a more fetus-like sitting position, kind of avoiding answering the question.

'Now tell me, child, why this?' Muddler gestures vaguely toward the set.

'What do you mean?' Fuddler looked up at Muddler and asked innocently.

'Why the television show?' he clarified, he lowered his resting paw and finally looked at Fuddler for once, though he did look very... unpleasant.

Fuddler felt very uncomfortable at the question and simply answered with an 'I dunno...' like a small child, he certainly looked and acted like one either way despite being an adult.

Muddler sighed disappointedly and went back to staring at the set 'Is this really how you're gonna deal with what happened? What even did happen, anyway?' he asked, even he was unsure of the origins of this.

'I... I actually don't remember... Excuse me, sorry, oh dear... What was I thinking?' Fuddler asked, he was mostly asking himself that.

'That's right, what were you thinking?' Muddler repeated Fuddler with annoyance 'Did you really think you could reduce your own family into cheap tropes and live like that?'

'I wasn't trying to do that!' Fuddler cried 'I just thought...! I thought if I could live just one happy day after 10 years of nonstop misery-!'

'And you did that by retreating into some ideal version of reality the city gave you through a light box?'

'Yes!' Fuddler blurted out, he realised what he said outloud and slowly went back into a balled up position on the floor 'Just... Atleast those people on TV seemed happier... Happier than we ever could've been when we moved to the city,' Fuddler argued with a quieter but ultimately defeated tone, this wasn't how things were supposed to go in his mind.

'Is that why you wanted to move away so badly?' Muddler asked in a more sincere and worried tone of voice, much more like his regular self and what Fuddler would be used to.

'Maybe,' Fuddler answered simply 'Or I guess there were other things too...' he added.

'Oh I could definitely list them off for you,' Muddler suddenly went back to a menacing tone.

Fuddler suddenly felt a great shock to his system and did not want anything Muddler could be implying 'Please don't-'

'Well first of all,' Muddler didn't let his child finish and he didn't seem to care in the slightest 'you didn't like other creatures shoehorning you into their ideas of what you should be, you didn't like the boring concrete buildings, you hated the constant noisiness of that wretched city, you couldn't bare the constant mockery from your own peers, they kept thinking you were a twelve year old - which you never grew out of being one after all these years by the way - and kept thinking you were lying when you said you weren't, you didn't like the lack of frogs or swamps or free things to collect off the street, you were being discriminated against for being a clumsy little mut, and most of all-'

'Please stop!' Fuddler cried.

'MOST OF ALL,' Muddler repeated louder to talk over Fuddler 'You hated me. Your own father. Simply because he couldn't land a simple job and was too feminine for anyone's liking!'

'NO!' Fuddler jumped up and tried to hold onto his dad's arm, but Muddler quickly got it away from him.

'YES! You kept having the same negative comments and jokes repeated to you over and over and you thought they were making fun of you by association! You don't want anything to do with the way I am and yet you keep chugging along the same way I did!' Muddler cried 'You were happy enough to tell my dear old friend mr. Moomin that people said you took after me and leave it at that! What if he asked you even further? Would you have talked about me in a good way!?'

'STOP! PLEASE!' Fuddler was almost in tears at this.

'Oh I see how it is! Just admit it! You hate me! Why else would you shove me in as the comic relief? Why else would I break out of character if you didn't know it'd be completely out of line for who I actually am!? I am anything BUT happy and you know this! No matter how hard you try I will cry eventually because I'm that dumb and sensitive about everything! The only things that you got right about me is that I'm clumsy and that I love you!' Muddler started tearing up through all the yelling 'You know deep down I love you... It's not your fault... right?'

Fuddler wanted to cover his face in his saucepan but unfortunately he was in his sitcom costume which lacked it completely, all he could really do was bury his face in his paws and try not to cry, muddler tears are much like that of a dog's, mixed in with blood waste and it stains your face, you'd need some cloth and water to clean it. Very inconvenient for a man, they aren't supposed to cry, and the stains make it very obvious you did.

'Fuddler... Did you really think this was going to solve anything?' Muddler got up from the director's chair to kneel down and lowered Fuddler's paws away from his face, Muddler's face was... trying to be comforting but that got ruined by the tear stains, which was being added onto by him crying at this very moment, he looked down at Fuddler's paws, looked back up at his face and added '... At all?'

Fuddler didn't make an attempt to make eye contact with his father, those strange 'u' shaped pupils were familiar but the idea of them not being normal at all still brought him some form of discomfort '... I just... Excuse me. I just thought that maybe... If I could feel better, somehow, maybe the problem would be less of a problem...'

'Fuddler, you don't even remember what the problem was,' Muddler said, he held his child's chin up to make him look at him directly 'You know this.'

'I know...' Fuddler admitted 'I think the cause is starting to come back to me... I think... It's still a little foggy...'

Muddler sighed 'How many times have you done something like this?'

'I...' Fuddler started thinking 'I don't know... I never bothered counting.'

'So this clearly isn't the first time.'

'It definitely doesn't feel like the first time... say for the addition of a few cast members,' Fuddler added the last part as a sly attempt at humor, he was referring to Moomintroll, Jumble and Sniff.

'Of course,' Muddler said with a touch of melancholy and sat on the floor beside Fuddler, Fuddler followed suit 'Do you think this is normal?'

'Dad, I moved to Moominvalley to get away from 'normal'!'

'You moved to Moominvalley to feel normal, there's a difference. And that's an important difference to realise,' said the Muddler, the black and white studio faded into a sepia tone as it seemed to transition into a lake sort of scene, almost unnoticeably to the Fuddler.

'Why's that?' Fuddler asked.

Muddler picked up a flower that happened to be next him, well- not actually, a sort of ethereal copy of the flower formed which left the real one untouched, Muddler looked thoughtfully at the flower in his hands 'If you know the difference, then maybe you can appreciate the specific thing that makes this place feel like you feel normal.'

Fuddler stared at the flower and glanced up at his father '... You're not really my dad, are you?'

'You think that now?' Muddler questioned with an amused undertone.

Fuddler felt almost silly about it, of course this Muddler isn't real, why would he think otherwise? 'I dunno... I guess I got cought up in the all the acting that... I forgot I'm just talking to myself...'

'Does it really matter, though?' Muddler raised an eyebrow with a slight smile on his face 'Atleast you got it out of your system, you twelve year old.'

'Don't call me a twelve year old!' Fuddler cried in defense.

'Then why do you act like one?'

'How can I not act like one if I look like one?' he said, slightly furious at the subject being brought up.

'People can turn invisible if they're abused enough, maybe this is something similar?' Muddler suggested.

'Tsch, magic, sure.' Fuddler waved off dismissively.

'You stayed as the same Fuddler that you were when we lost Sniff, excuse me but you really don't think there's something connected here?' Muddler asked rather rhetorically 'You graduated college with a degree in biology and live by yourself in the coffee tin you inherited from me and yet you still chase after a woman like you have a preteen crush on her with absolutely no clue as to how to talk to a girl.'

Fuddler cringed at the memory of his attempted courtship of the Mymble and recoiled back into a ball position.

'But atleast it seems like you learned from it, just... Don't let things paint your views so easily, sir,' Muddler placed the flower on Fuddler's head.

'Don't use 'sir' on me...' Fuddler muttered quietly.

'Well, what do you want me to refer to you as? Ma'am?'

'That's even worse!' Fuddler shut down the idea almost immediately, he grabbed the flower from his head and looked at it 'Neither of them feel all that right...'

'Right,' Muddler said 'It's fine if you don't want to be referred to as either of those.'

'It's not just that... I don't really feel like a... A man. Atleast not how the world seems to think of one.'

'You're a button collector, Fuddler. Maybe you should start calling yourself that instead.'

'You can do that?' Fuddler seems to be almost bewildered but not totally against the idea.

'Fuddler, I'm a half woman who calls itself a man, anyone can be anything, especially in places like this valley. You don't have to define yourself by those standards anymore.' Muddler explained.

Fuddler stared at his father with a thoughtful expression on his face 'Like I don't have to define my family by any of those standards...' he looks back down at the flower in his paw.

'That's the spirit!' Muddler punches his child lightly on the shoulder 'And whatever the problem was... I hope you can fix it, it's not easy but... It'll be better for the long run.'

'Right...' Fuddler flicked the flower into the lake, it simply dissolves in mid-air rather than land into the water or anything 'I'm sorry about... Everything. I'm still very, very dumb.'

The Muddler laughed ever so slightly 'You'll get it in time, I promise.'

'... Maybe.' Fuddler said rather hopefully. The Muddler seemed to dissolve away like the flower did and the world faded into full color. It looks like that episode was a wrap, one might say. Now it's time to figure out why it had to be made.

[borealis-strange]

Night 1

Summary:

I had worked in the world of the paranormal for a couple of years. My mission was to help those souls who, for some reason, had stayed in the world of the living. Despite the nature of my job, where it was a relief to help these souls, there was someone I will never forget. And it was the first time I felt sad about helping someone.

Madame Mercury, an important woman from England, had urgently asked me to come to her house because she believed there was a ghost. She couldn't give me more details, but with the little, she told me, I had enough.

Trigger warning! This is a story about ghosts so it contains elements of horror and mentions of death and illness

Notes:

I had this in my drafts for months and until now I decided to finish it. And it turned out longer than expected.

Tag-list:

@freesiafields @bambirexwrites @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @vaeya @sirenlovesqueen @moreofthatqueen 

I had worked in the world of the paranormal for a couple of years. My mission was to help those souls who, for some reason, had stayed in the world of the living. Despite the nature of my job, where it was a relief to help these souls, there was someone I will never forget. And it was the first time I felt sad about helping someone.

Madame Mercury, an important woman from England, had urgently asked me to come to her house because she believed there was a ghost. She couldn't give me more details, but with the little she told me, I had enough.

I headed home around noon. It was a bit of a long trip because the house was on the outskirts of the city. After an hour of carriage ride, I finally reached the huge black house. It was quite elegant and beautiful but the fact that it was in the middle of a forest made it look gloomy.

I sighed heavily and tried to fix my vest before opening the gate to the house. I walked down the gravel path that led to the house.

I lightly knocked on the door and waited. I heard heels approaching until a dark-haired woman opened the door. She was wearing her elegant black dress.

— Thank God you have arrived, Miss May — Madame Mercury said somewhat relieved — Come in  —

We both went into the house.

The house was large, much larger than I expected. Besides being decorated with many things; paintings, crystal figurines, porcelain mugs, and various other things, it seemed that Madame Mercury was either a collector or just very extravagant.

Madame Mercury led me into the living room, where there were two armchairs in front of a fireplace.

— Come, sit here — Mercury told me and I did what she asked. — We have tea and cookies, do you want some? —

— No thanks — I politely declined. I took out of my suitcase a small notebook and pen to start taking notes — Tell me Madame Mercury, how long have you had this house? —

— We bought this house when we moved to England. We thought it was very pretty and it was at a very affordable price but they never told us about the ... problems it had —

— Could you explain to me what kind of problems, Madame Mercury? —

— Oh Gods. The house is a mess. For months I have been listening to things at night, and I am sure it is not the cats, nor any of us —

— How can you be so sure? —

— I know my children. They don't make noises of… strange things. — Mercury mumbled.

— Could you explain that? What kinds of sounds have you heard? —

— I heard wailing ... as if someone was crying. There is also something that is moving the furniture in the rooms that I don't use. I’ve listened to it all night and when I go to check the furniture they are elsewhere. Sheets are everywhere, it's a complete mess! — Mercury shuddered.

I wrote down everything she told me. It was nothing special, supernaturally speaking, and apparently, the ghost was not aggressive. Perfect.

— Who lives with you? — I asked without looking up

— We are the cats, Joanna, my wife and I — She answered, this time calmer — Although my wife is not currently here. She had to take a business trip —

—Okay — I said in a low voice as I wrote down the last details. — Could you show me the room? —

— Joanna! — Madame Mercury called — I wouldn’t go to that room even if I was crazy — She said in a whisper.

A girl dressed in black came out of the kitchen. Her long brown hair was tied up in a bun.

— Yes ma'am? — The young woman spoke.

—Would you kindly take Miss May to ... that room — Mercury indicated.

— Sure, Madame — Joanna said.

— Tonight I'll be working on this — I informed Mercury while she put my notebook back — If you hear something out of the ordinary, it's probably me — I said before following Joanna.

Joanna led me to the second floor, through the great hallways and the wooden doors. The house was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. She led me to the darkest corner of the house, where there was only a worn door. Even without walking through the door, you could feel a strange breeze.

— It's here —Joanna said as she opened the door.

The room looked… normal. It looked like a maze; full of furniture with white sheets. The curtains were closed so I couldn't make out too many things.

— What is the function of this room? — I asked while I tried to distinguish more things.

— It's a cellar — Joanna answered — We use it to store all the old furniture and things that we don't use. —

I went a little deeper, trying not to bump into the furniture. Strangely, the room seemed huge with all the furniture inside. Being inside I could notice a strong smell of dust and humidity. In addition to being colder than normal.

— Okay — I muttered to myself.

— Are you going to inspect it now? — Joanna asked with concern

— Not yet — I said as I returned to her side — I need it to be darker — Joanna looked at me confused but she didn't ask any more questions.

— Do you want me to take you to your room? — Joanna asked as she closed the door — So that you can leave your things —

— If it's no problem — I replied with a smile.

Joanna just watched me before heading back down the hall.

—This will be your room during your stay here — Joanna said as she opened one of the doors.

The room was small with a bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe, and it seemed to have its own bathroom. It would be enough for me.

— Thank you —

— No problem, if you need me, I'm here — Joanna said before leaving.

I put my suitcase on the bed and started to unpack my things. It was nothing special, just clothes, the notebook where I kept my report, and my special dagger. I would have brought more things but from what I had been told, it was a category 1 ghost. It would not be complicated at all.

I grabbed my notebook and pen and went to the dresser to begin my report.

“November 20, 1896. Night 1

I explored the room and they gave me the first details about this ghost. Apparently, it's just a soul lamenting (probably about their death) and moving some furniture. It doesn't seem to do more than that.

The room where it is located in a cellar, ideal for hiding. I'll wait for the night to see if I can make contact with this spirit "

I left the notebook open and went to bed. I removed my suitcase and went to bed hoping to get some sleep. This would be a long night.

_______________

I got up around midnight. They always said it was the best time to "hunt" ghosts, and I could tell there was some truth to it. I guess it's just easier to see them in total darkness.

I grabbed the gas lamp from the bedside table before leaving the room, plus my notebook.

During the day, the house was elegant, now you could feel its immensity, its gloomy immensity. Now you could think that it was truly haunted, mostly because of all the things that Mercury collected. I didn't want to imagine what the first floor looked like.

I slowly opened the cellar door, trying not to make too much noise. They said that that scared ghosts.

I walked slowly around the room, trying not to trip over something. The wooden boards creaked under my weight. I had to make an enormous effort to not scare myself, either with my breathing or my steps.

The shadows on the furniture made me believe that the ghost was already in these directions and that it was much more dangerous than I had anticipated.

It was just the first night, it had to "win" trust with the ghost.

I don't know how long I spent hanging around here. I assumed at least an hour, but it could be more or less. I just knew that with every minute that passed, my nervousness grew even more.

"Easy Brianna" I said to myself "It is just a ghost, there is no need to be nervous"

I managed to hear a little sob. I was sure it wasn't me. I stopped and looked around without turning around. Another sob, this time closer. The ghost was behind me.

I held my breath as I felt my heartbeat stronger.

—What are you doing here? -—It was a female voice.

I slowly turned around until I was face to face with the ghost.

I managed to calm down a bit when I saw her.

A poor ghost. She was a girl, no more than twenty years old. Her long blonde hair floated behind her. She was looking at me with his big blue eyes, almost pleading. Her skin was whiter than the moon and was stained by traces of black tears. She wore a white dress that almost reached the floor, plus she was barefoot. Despite her appearance, I did not feel threatened.

His death was probably sudden and that is why she did not get his eternal rest. This would be easy.

— Hello — I greeted cordially, leaving my fears behind. — I'm Brianna and I've come to help you —

— Help me? — Asked the girl with enthusiasm.

— Sure. I have to find ... —

— Are you a doctor? — The girl interrupted me. — I did not know that women could be doctors —

I think I already know what happened to the girl. And worst of all, she still believed that she was alive. This will be more complicated than I thought.

The girl looked at me with pleading eyes, I couldn't tell her that I was not a doctor.

— Yes, now women can be doctors — I lied — Could you tell me your name and age sweetheart — I asked as I took out my notebook to start writing down.

— I'm Regina ... Regina Taylor. And I am 17 years old — She answered in a low voice.

I wrote it down in my notebook.

— Very well, why don't we sit down and tell me a little more about ... your illness —

There really was no place to sit, so in the end, I opted for the floor. The girl imitated me.

— Well ... since the last few days — Regina began. Days… she had lost track of time — I have had a fever and headaches. In addition to my skin rashes, they are quite painful. —

The girl had smallpox, or so it seemed, I was not a doctor. And, she hadn't been treated in time, or incorrectlyñ

—I also have another problem — Regina said in a low voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.

— What's wrong? — Asked.

—There is someone in my house — She said in a whisper as if she did not want anyone else to hear her.

— In your house? — I asked slowly as if making sure of what I was hearing.

Regina nodded slowly.

— What are you talking about? — Asked

— For some reason, two women began to take all the things out of my room and filled it with old and ugly furniture —

It was surely Madame Mercury and her wife when they moved in. Wasn't that like ten years ago?

— At first, I thought they were going to remodel my room but no — Regina lamented.

— And what did you do about it? — I asked the girl.

— I started moving the furniture in the hope that they would finally return me to my room. Do you think you could do something? —

I sighed heavily. Really, there was only one thing he could do, but it wasn't time yet.

— I'll try to talk to the owner of the house — I tried to comfort her. — I'd better go to sleep, and I recommend you do the same —

Before I could get up off the ground, Regina grabbed my arm.

— Please stay here — she looked at me with pleading eyes — You're the only one who has come in days. I do not like to be alone —

I bit my lower lip. Technically I had already finished my "work" for the night, but the girl looked at me with supplication and sadness. It wouldn't hurt to stay awake a little longer, plus I might get a little more information.

— Alright —

Regina smiled hugely before taking my arm and dragging me somewhere. She led me to the side of the window. Below there was a small chest. Regina opened it and started looking for something in it. After a few seconds, she pulled out a board and excitedly showed it to me. It was chess.

— Do you want to play? — She asked while she made little jumps.

— Okay... —

We sat on the floor facing each other and I put the lamp aside to illuminate us. Regina arranged the pieces, she used the white pieces and I the black ones. This… was one of the strangest things that had happened to me at work. I had already seen everything; ghosts of decapitated people, vengeful ghosts, drowned ghosts who had created an ecosystem in a lake, even a ghost of fire but never would I have imagined that I would play quietly with a ghost.

Truth be told, I was pretty rusty in the game, I hadn't played it in years. When Regina won the game, she looked at me with great emotion.

We played a few more games, the good thing is that this managed to keep my focus.

We didn't talk for the rest of the game, mostly because I didn't know what to say and Regina was very focused on her game.

I don't know how long we spent playing, I guess a couple of hours.

The girl yawned and I couldn't help but do the same.

— Are you tired? — I asked.

Regina nodded slowly. Without saying anything else she got up and began to go to some corner of the room. I quickly put the game together and went after her.

Regina lay down on an old bed in the room. She snuggled into the pillow.

— Good night Dr. Brianna — The girl said quietly while she fell asleep and her body faded slightly.

I couldn't help but smile. When the girl completely vanished, I knew it was time to go back to my room.

— Good night Regina — I said as she left the cellar and closed the door.

As I could, I walked down the hall, trying very hard not to fall asleep.

A category 1 ghost. I only needed to tell her that this was no longer her place in her world and that she needed to rest, the difficult thing would be to find a way to tell her.

I laid down on the bed and fell asleep immediately.

[teaplease1717]

Story: Ashes of Love and War

Chapter: 13 / ?

Couple: Todoroki Shouto / Yaoyorozu Momo (TodoMomo)

Rating: M (for language and violence)

Betas: @flourchildwrites​ (Link)  & C’s Melody (Link) 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638800/chapters/71473683

Thank you everyone who still reads and follows this story! I have this arc done, but will be posting it slowly - think once a month (maybe a little faster depending on my schedule).

Anyways, in regards to this chapter, it’s a bit different. It will be from Momo’s pov again. It was originally supposed to be part of chapter 12, but then got too long and I needed time to think about the conversation with Aizawa so I decided to make this section its own chapter. But you can think of it as chapter 12.5.

Also, please don’t judge my strategizing and war planning too harshly.

XXXXXXXX

Momo followed automatically after Tokoyami and Todoroki downstairs. It was still dark outside.

A strange quiet had fallen over the orphanage after the attack. Men sat in a stupor in the courtyard as the able-bodied walked amongst them, checking for injuries in whispered voices.

In the far corner of the yard, carcasses of the stymphalian had been stacked for burning. Next to the pile, in a single file line, the shapes of unmoving men lay on the courtyard ground, ready for their burial ceremonies.

Momo dropped her gaze and tried not to count the dead. It wouldn’t do any good to think about it. All she could do was pray their souls were judged worthy of paradise in Elysium.

Tokoyami led them down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Aizawa was already there, standing over a table covered with a map of the island. He didn’t look up as they entered.

Momo studied him in the dim lighting of the room. The flames in the tripods flickered, casting dark shadows over his face, but Momo couldn’t read his expression. Whatever worry and exhaustion he had shown in Eri’s room was carefully concealed again.

The kitchen door opened behind her, and Asui entered with Fukukado.

The pirate captain’s arm hung in a sling. Momo noticed that Fukukado had cleaned the blood off of her face, but despite the remaining blush of battle, she looked gray.

“Causality count?” Aizawa asked in a clipped voice, finally looking up and meeting Fukukado’s narrowed gaze.

“Six dead. Two missing,” she said tightly. Her dark green eyes had lost all playfulness. She looked tired and stressed. “Half of my remaining men have serious wounds, and a quarter of those might not make it through the night.”

Aizawa’s lips thinned. For a moment, he was silent as if he were contemplating something; then he reached into his chiton.

“Asui collected what she could of the medicine from the stockroom.” His expression was grim as he pulled out a small leather bag. “There’s not much. We were only able to recover three bottles of Eri’s elixir,” he said, pulling the tinctures out and setting them on the table.

The statement fell on the room as heavy as if it were the night sky, and they were the titan Atlas. Momo’s legs buckled under her. She knew it had been bad but somehow she had hoped…

But, three. Only three? She covered her mouth with her hand and drew in a deep breath. That wouldn't be nearly enough to heal everyone. She shivered and wrapped her other arm around her stomach.

Next to her, Momo felt Todoroki shift closer.

Aizawa continued. “We’ll ration it amongst the critically injured. It should be enough to keep them hanging on long enough for us to make more once Eri is better.”

Fukukado’s expression flickered. “And when will that be? What’s her condition?”

Aizawa was silent for a moment. “In a week or two, when she’s sweated out the poison,” he said finally. Then he turned and looked at Momo. “For now, we’ll have to give them what we have. Yaoyorozu, there’s one barrel of alcohol left.” He laid his hand on something beside him, and for the first time, she noticed the lone wooden barrel. “Use it to help numb their pain and get them sleeping for now.”

Momo swallowed thickly and nodded.

“That leaves us to other pressing matters,” Aizawa continued.

He leaned forward and pressed his knuckles against the table. He stared down between his hands, and his expression rippled for a split second before he regained his composure. He straightened and stared around the room.

“We are out of food.” Momo sucked in a sharp breath. “It appears the stymphalian somehow found our food and wine storage.”

“But how?” Asui asked, pressing her finger to her chin. Her eyebrows pulled down. “We always make sure to secure the door and the stymphalian don’t have hands to remove the wood. How would they have been able to get in?”

“I don’t know, but they did,” Aizawa said. “I have a few of Fukukado’s men doing inventory now, but from the initial count, the most we have left is a week’s worth—if we ration. That doesn’t leave us a lot of time. The best option would be to take the pirate boat and retreat, but with so many hurt and the possibility that we could be attacked at sea, that is no longer a viable option either.”

Aizawa paused and took a breath; his nostrils flared. “I believe it’s obvious now that this was a coordinated attack to smoke us out. And, as much as I hate to play into those creatures’ plan, the only way out of this, for any of us, will be to counterattack. And quickly,” he said tightly. “We need to strike them when they’re not expecting it and before they get more power to retaliate.”

Momo’s stomach curled in dread. From the corner of her eye, Momo watched as Tokoyami went over to Asui’s side and put his hand on her shoulder. Asui reached up and squeezed it briefly.

Momo swallowed, pretending not to notice. The room felt cold, even though the night was still warm. Her arms tightened over her stomach.

“But what if they planned for it?” she asked quietly. “Like how they had planned to steal Eri tonight?”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, and Momo realized he hadn’t told anyone else yet.

Tokoyami looked up at her. “What do you mean—steal Eri?”

Momo shifted as everyone looked at her.

“The one pulling the strings,” Aizawa said slowly like the words were acid, “has told the stymphalian that if they eat Eri they will turn back into humans.”

“What?” Fukukado’s eyes widened. “How do you know this?”

Aizawa hesitated for a moment; Momo could see him roll his jaw. “When this first started a little over a month ago, a crow with purple and green plumage landed on the island and told the stymphalian that whoever ate the intestines of a half-monster with silver hair would turn back into a human.”

Momo’s eyes widened. That must have happened about the same time as when their boat sank. It couldn’t be, could it?

She brought her hand up to touch her throat.

“So you think a god is involved? Why didn’t you disclose this,” Tokoyami demanded.

Aizawa’s eyes flashed. “Would that have changed anything?”

Tokoyami didn’t answer. The truth was it wouldn’t have. They were indebted to Aizawa and had no way to leave the island even if they had wanted to.

“But—a god? I’ve never heard of gods using monsters...” Fukukado said.

“Just because they don’t doesn’t mean they can’t,” Todoroki said evenly.

Tokoyami’s head jerked up and his eyes narrowed on Todoroki. “Do we even have enough power to fight against them all? Even without a god helping, we are at a disadvantage.” Tokoyami’s statement was to the room, but his eyes remained narrowed on Todoroki.

The demigod’s expression was a mask. His face was neutral as if the information didn’t change anything.

“That’s true,” Asui said quickly. “Don’t you think they are trying so hard because they have a plan to defeat us?”

Aizawa’s expression was hard. “It’s risky, but I think we can pull it off. Hado went to get additional help from some sympathizers and our own patron.”

Momo looked around the room; it was the first time she realized the aurai was gone.

“The stymphalian’s benefactor has stayed out of the fray—for now. But we don’t know how long that will last,” Aizawa said in a low voice. He was studying the room carefully. “We need to strike before the stymphalian realize we have others coming or before their patron steps in.”

“But can we do it by ourselves?” Asui asked.

Aizawa rolled his jaw. “Ideally, we’d wait for Hado to return with help, but we don’t have time. We can’t afford to suffer another attack.” He took a deep breath and looked around the room, his black eyes hard and unyielding. “We’ll have to wage an offensive tomorrow—before dusk.”

He looked down at the map and pointed at a space off the island where the pirate boat was docked. “We’ll put all the injured that can still walk and the children in Fukukado’s ship. The rest of us will break into two groups.” He dragged his finger across the map to point at the rocky northern part of the island. “Todoroki, Tokoyami, Asui, and I will attack the main lair. Fukukado, you and your men will be our back-up, helping to guard this place but also nimble enough to come to our aid if need be.”

Aizawa looked up, and his expression was intent. “We need this to be quick and decisive. There is no second shot.”

“What about me?” Momo asked, stepping forward. “Should I be in your group or Fukukado’s?”

“Yaoyorozu?” Aizawa paused and looked at her. “Your shoulder is still hurt. You'll go with the children and injured to the ship.”

It felt like she’d been slapped. Her stomach dropped, and Momo swallowed but forced herself to straighten as she met his dark gaze. “It’s a minor injury. I can still fight.”

“Your job will be to act as the healer and to look after the men,” Aizawa said sternly.

Basically, to stay in a woman’s role.

Momo drew a short breath and felt rebellious rage burn across her chest, but she pushed the anger away. Her fingers curled into fists at her side.

They couldn’t have an argument here. Not now. They needed to stay unified. She gave a small, resigned nod, and it seemed to satisfy Aizawa enough. He turned to address the rest of the room.

“For now, Todoroki, help Fukukado and me move the injured inside. Asui, you and Tokoyami start preparing beds for them; we have some spare sheets in the closet. You know where they are. Yaoyorozu, get the men as comfortable as possible. Divide up the three vials of medicine the best you can. As for the morning patrol, I will take it.” He paused and studied them for a moment. Then he turned and folded up the map. “That is all for now but not for tonight.”

With that, Aizawa adjourned the meeting and swept out of the room with Fukukado and Asui. Todoroki hesitated. Momo could feel his eyes watching her closely, but she refused to acknowledge him.

She was angry. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she didn’t have people she wanted to protect.

After a moment, Todoroki left, and Momo stood alone with Tokoyami.

Tokoyami seemed uncomfortable. It was the first time they had been alone together since their argument over a week ago. And she was surprised that he had stayed. A small part of her was grateful for his presence—it meant that he still cared. But even that didn't overshadow the feeling of being left behind, like useless baggage.

She trembled.

“You’re angry,” Tokoyami said after a moment, looking at her.

Momo was tempted to roll her eyes but ignored the urge.

“Yes.” She turned and walked over to the kitchen table and stared down at the three remaining vials Aizawa had left. The silver liquid glittered. “The strategy for tomorrow is too risky. I understand but-but—" Her hands curled into fists. "How could Aizawa just decide that I should be swept aside to tend to the wounded? I’m a strong fighter. I can help!”

“It wasn’t Aizawa,” Tokoyami said, his voice soft.

Momo looked sharply at him. “What?”

Tokoyami swallowed visibly. Then he straightened and met her eyes. “When I was down here earlier, I asked Aizawa to consider the option of keeping you with the injured.”

Momo stared at him, mouth open. Her mind faltered.

How?

Why?

Did Tokoyami think her unreliable because she had been growing closer to Todoroki? Was this out of anger? Retaliation?

As if reading her mind, Tokoyami continued quickly. “It wasn’t because of your relationship with Todoroki.”

Momo’s eyes narrowed. “Then why–”

“You're human.”

“So, I'm a liability?” she snapped.

Momo knew it was unfair, but she was so sick of it. She was sick of others making her feel like she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself—Aizawa, Todoroki, and now Tokoyami.

“That's not it! There are just some things a human can't do against overwhelming evil.” Tokoyami moved towards her. “It's going to be a tough battle as it is. Please understand.”

If she wasn't so hurt, a part of Momo knew she would have agreed with him. She had always been a healer. That was her area of expertise, but the fact that he didn’t even consult with her stung.

She pressed her lips together. "But I can fight. You know I can fight. I saved Eri earlier and was holding my own against the stymphalian.”

Tokoyami’s eyes flashed. “What you did earlier was reckless—jumping off the veranda to catch Eri. You could have been seriously hurt. Your skill is adequate against a couple of humans but not against creatures of darkness. And tonight proved it.”

“But what about all those other times?” Her voice shook with rage. “I defended you at the temple, didn’t I? And I chased off Moonfish and held my own—”

“And all those times Todoroki had to save you.” His voice was bitter.

Momo’s lips twisted, and she looked away quickly, her chest constricting. His words weren’t untrue, but they hurt, like knives digging into her heart. It felt like her chest was being hollowed out, and she swallowed thickly.

“You’re always angry at me these days.” She could feel the pressure in her cheeks and eyes. Her fingers tightened into fists until her knuckles turned white. Then she looked up, meeting his eyes. "Don’t you trust me?" she asked softly.

Tokoyami's expression flickered, and he at least had the audacity to look abashed. "I trust you. Of course, I do,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “But these last weeks have been taxing and extenuating circumstances. And when I saw you almost die tonight...” His voice broke slightly, and he swallowed before continuing. “You're human, Yaoyorozu. There are just some things a human can't do. No matter how good of a fighter you are, your flesh is mortal. If you go out there—if you fight—you'll die."

He stepped closer and grasped her shoulder gently. “With Eri sick, if you get hurt, there's no one to heal you. Please understand.” He squeezed her good shoulder tenderly. “I can’t afford to lose you," he said softly, releasing her.

Momo didn’t say anything. She dropped her gaze to the ground. She felt nauseous.

Tokoyami hesitated. He opened his beak as if he were going to say more, then shut it firmly and turned, exiting the kitchen and closing the door behind him.

Momo heard the door click shut and stood there trembling for a few moments. Her chest hurt, as if her heart was in the pit of her stomach.

Tokoyami had said that this was for her own safety, but his words had been hollow. The truth was she had become a nuisance.

She was so weak and pathetic. No wonder he wanted to abandon her. She couldn’t do anything, couldn’t protect anyone. All she ever did was cause problems, and now she was suffering the consequences for her actions.

Momo’s jaw tightened as she struggled not to cry.

If she were more reliable, if she were more likable, then no one would have abandoned her.

Claustrophobia enveloped her, cold and suffocating. She couldn’t stay here. She needed to get out. She felt trapped and useless.

Choking, Momo turned and hurried out of the house.

Her feet carried her out to the edge of the cliffs. The wind whipped around her. The smell of dark magic had lessened, replaced with the sharp tang of blood and burning flesh.

Momo paused, looking out at the sea, and breathed deeply. It felt like the world was caving in around her.

In the back of her mind, Momo realized that she was having a panic attack. She had seen these symptoms in the men and women of Troy over. But she had never...she was made of stronger material than this...

Her eyes started to burn, and Momo wiped her face with the back of her hand. This was so unsightly and nothing that a priestess of Apollo should be. She was the top healer at Apollo’s temple, she wasn’t supposed to break down like this, especially when Tokoyami was only asking her to do her duty as a priestess.

But she felt betrayed, and she hated herself for the feeling.

Tokoyami was only asking what was reasonable, and Momo knew she would have done the same. But it hurt. Fukukado’s men were human too, and Tokoyami didn’t care that they were fighting—just her.

It felt like everything was falling apart between them.

Back in Troy, she had prayed to the gods for Tokoyami’s safety. She had been willing to trade anything, and the gods had answered her wishes. They had sent her Todoroki, and it should have been enough. But she had somehow thought that everything would stay the same between Tokoyami and her. However, the harder she fought, the faster everything seemed to fall apart, like sand slipping between her fingers.

And it was all her fault. Wishes had consequences. The gods never gave anything for free.

Momo drew in a sharp breath and rubbed at her eyes. It seemed all she could do lately was cry.

She was pathetic.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

CONSTANCE SONG is TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD and an ESCORT at FAIR FARIBAULT’S in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. She looks remarkably like NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO and considers herself  NEUTRAL. She is currently OPEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

Growing up in an orphanage CARMELLA DIGBY quickly learnt how to use her good looks for her own benefit. The other children and careers at the orphanage would flock to Carmella like a moth to a flame, and Carmella quickly realised how to use it to her advantage. Leaving the orphanage as a beautiful dark-haired young woman it wasn't long until she caught the eyes of FAI SONG, a rich wizard on business from China. Being introduced to the wizarding world was like having all of her dreams come true for Carmella, and living in the lap of luxury with Fai’s family money was nothing to be ignored either. Knowing an excellent opportunity when she saw one Carmella made quick of an engagement and marriage with Fai, the man was so swept up in the romance of it all he thought it was actually his own idea. Giving birth to Constance was the first time Carmella had felt true love and she doted on the girl because of it. Constance grew up wanting for nothing, her parents loved her dearly and gave her all she needed. It didn't however do the same thing it may have done to other children, where others may have become spoiled and expectant Constance remained hard-working and driven to prove herself, whether it be to master the alphabet correctly or to find the perfect hiding place for hide and seek. Constance’s life however was somewhat changed when her father passed away when she was four from a freak splinching accident. 

Now exceedingly rich beyond her belief Carmella decided to try her hand at marrying for love rather than advantage and once again caught a man as quickly as she could think it through her intriguing looks and luring aura. Falling for the sweet eyes and gentle smile of RICHARD DIGBY Carmella quickly married and had another daughter. Loving this child the same way she had loved Constance had a different effect on ELENA DIGBY. She became spoiled with love and demanded the attention of anyone in the room, speaking louder, laughing harder or gesticulating more dramatically than any that would dare to steal the spotlight. Constance allowed this of her sister, stepping back into the shadows and allowed the girl to get the attention she so clearly thrived off knowing full well that she would just have to stand and speak quietly to gain the attention back. That was how it went, there was no denying both girls were beautiful and intriguing, their mothers veela blood could account for that, but there was something more with Constance. The way she carried herself, how the words she spoke were so quiet and soft, yet the meaning behind them was always so truthful it was almost cutting. Constance thrived in an environment where she could pick and choose when, where and how she got attention, if she didn't want her mothers scrutiny she would simply disappear into the shadows with a good book and appear again when she was ready. 

Leaving for school Constance was pleased to leave the self-imposed shadow of her sister but was also well aware that she needed to cultivate relationships with people like Elena in order to continue being able to pick and choose when she wanted to deal with other people and when she didn't. Sorted into Ravenclaw she made friends with girls very much like her MAFALDA HOPKIRK and DAISY HOOKUM. Both studious girls were perfect for library studying sessions, borrowing class notes and chill nights talking and reading in their dorm. Being friends with the pair made Constance step out of her shell a bit, being more vocal she got a reputation for being quite blunt when people annoyed her. Over the years she would constantly ‘speak out of turn’ as others called it and had formed a very strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. One day in third year she was sticking up for a particularly pathetic first year who had been dangled by his ankles in the hallway when another joined in her argument. LAUREL LINWOOD was described as outspoken too, the Gryffindor was unafraid of rustling a few feathers and from that day the girls were inseparable, combing the castle floors for injustices to pick at. Laurel started most of the arguments and Constance finished them with a sharp and detailed final blow that left most opponents stuttering. 

Through Laurel she was introduced to JENNIFER VANE, KEIRA GREY, NATAN DIGGORY, ARTHUR WEASLEY and TRYSTAN WARRINGTON, and others who comprised a gaggle of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that brought a funner side to Constance's group of Ravenclaws. Putting down their books they swapped study sessions and early nights for being out after curfew, late nights in the room of requirement and sneaking into the kitchens to get snacks for the evening ahead. Although Constance still kept her grades up being one of the top students of her year she found a new side of her personality, her new friends brought a more relaxed and open side to her. Becoming increasingly more confident through the help of her friends Constance and Laurel became even more ballsy, the people they picked to make a show of going from random bullies to students like LUCIUS MALFOY. A constant thorn in the pair's sides Lucius spent much of his time at school throwing around his Pure-Blood ideals and the two girls would spendjust as much of their time going around and proving him wrong. Popular to the many but hated by the few Constance and her group of friends got invited to most parties that Hogwarts offered, at least one of their group knowing the hosts well enough to gain an invite for all. A party that stuck in Constance’s memory as life changing was their Graduation night, the last night all her year group would be together Constance had probably a bit too much to drink. Another who had had too much to drink was Mafalda, the pair were giggling and dancing together when all of a sudden Mafalda leaned in to kiss her.

Being the silent and reserved girl she was, it did not allow for much romance. Constance spent the majority of her final years of Hogwarts holding a candle to Trystan, a boy with a hero complex bigger than her own she silently admired him. Never had she admired Mafalda however, but the months after the graduation party Constance came to a realisation. She had grown up so sure of herself, thinking she knew everything there was to know about herself and so the kiss led her to feel confused and vulnerable for the first time. Spending time after Hogwarts figuring it out she met MILA BELINSKY, a beautiful blonde she entangled herself with to come to the realisation that she was bisexual. It would seem that meeting Mila was not only meant to advance her love life but also her work life too. Working as an escort for Fair Farbaults Mila persuaded Constance to join the team. Joining with the same intentions of her mother, to marry first for advantage and then again for love she joined in the hopes of finding a husband. One man using the escort service who is especially susceptible to Constance’s charms is CHARLIE MONTAGUE, a rich Pure-Blood elitist just missing the cut for the twenty-eight, he has enough money to make Constance happy and then some. A fault in her plan comes in the form of SEBASTIEN FONTAINE, a fellow escort who has drawn her attention away from finding a rich husband and to the competition they hold between them. Both silent and still the pair are vying it out for top dog, seeing who can bring in the most money to the establishment. 

Without realising and being distracted by their banter and harsh tones Constance has found an attraction for Sebastien, not that would ever admit it to herself let alone him. Living with her sister in a house in Kensington the girls have gotten closer than they ever were in childhood. Constance has come out of her shell over the years and through her own Hogwarts experience Elena has learnt to share the limelight. Spending many evenings out together Constance has introduced her sister to her friends from work GEORGINE FARIBAULT, CORALINE HEATHER, DAHLIA BLACKWOOD and her son STEFAN BLACKWOOD. A collection of veela’s and vampires they attract a lot of attention from the other patrons in the bars they visit. Not only does Constance love letting loose on these nights she also uses it as a way of getting new clients in, all adding to her hopeful win against Sebastien. Living with Elena she has noticed some strange behaviour, leaving the house at odd times, hushed conversations and having people she shouldn't really know that well come to call on her. Always on the hunt for knowledge her curiosity has gotten the best of her and recently she has found herself spying on her own sister. She has seen her go to a pub in Diagon alley a lot by the name of ‘the fountain of fair fortune’ and heard the words ‘the order’ whispered a lot when her sister is having floo calls behind doors that were not well enough warded. Scared her sister has gotten herself into something that she doesn't know the extent of Constance will not stop until she knows what has taken over Elena. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood (½ Veela)

Sexuality  → Bisexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Family → Elena Digby (half-sister/roommate)

Connections  → Laurel Linwood (best friend), Mafalda Hopkirk (close friend/potential love interest), Daisy Hookum (close friend), Jennifer Vane (close friend), Natan Diggory (close friend), Arthur Weasley (close friend), Trystan Warrington (close friend/object of affection), Aya Fawcett (friend), Keira Grey (friend), Molly Prewett (friend), Mila Bellinsky (colleague/romantic liaison), Charles Montague (client/potential love interest), Sebastien Fontaine (colleague/potential love interest), Georgine Faribault (boss/friend), Dahlia Blackwood (colleague/friend), Coraline Heather (colleague/friend), Stefan Blackwood (friend), Lucius Malfoy (adversary)

Future Information → Future Member of The Order of the Phoenix

CONSTANCE SONG IS A LEVEL 6 WITCH/VEELA

[thethistlegirlwrites]

OC Enneagram types!

@nade2308 I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing this since the Enneagram conversation came up in the Discord, so here it is! My seven main characters (sorry, Rowan, I'm not confident enough to type a tree just yet) and their Enneagram types, plus a short explanation and some quotes about their basic type and wing!

Robin - 4w3 As a basic type of a 4, Robin sees himself as fundamentally different from other people. He isn't sure how to fit into the world, since his dual fae-human nature leaves him feeling on the outside of all of it. He feels broken and incomplete, and keeps trying to create a place that he fits. The 4 tendency to imagine a world where they can belong led him to idealize the hunter world and want to join it like his father, despite his grandfather's warnings against it. The 3 side of his personality is also involved in the effort to fit in, to make himself into an acceptable version that people will like. “Fours feel that they are unlike other human beings, and consequently, that no one can understand them or love them adequately. They often see themselves as uniquely talented, possessing special, one-of-a-kind gifts, but also as uniquely disadvantaged or flawed. More than any other type, Fours are acutely aware of and focused on their personal differences and deficiencies...Healthy Fours are willing to reveal highly personal and potentially shameful things about themselves because they are determined to understand the truth of their experience—so that they can discover who they are and come to terms with their emotional history. This ability also enables Fours to endure suffering with a quiet strength. Their familiarity with their own darker nature makes it easier for them to process painful experiences that might overwhelm other types.” “Threes learn to perform in ways that will garner them praise and positive attention.” John - 6w5 John is deeply tied to his roots, following the family tradition of becoming a hunter with no question of whether or not that was what he wanted to do. To him, duty is the highest thing to seek after, and individual personal goals must always be secondary to what has to be done. the 5 side of his identity comes into play in his work; John feels a sense of pride in working from the shadows, knowing about vampires but hiding that secret from the larger world for its own protection. Like his great-grandfather, he's the sort of person who seeks out a person to be devoted to. Until his brother died, Gabe was the tethering force in John's life. After his death, John drifted away from his home, searching for a new connection, but struggling to find it. “Sixes are the most loyal to their friends and to their beliefs. They will “go down with the ship” and hang on to relationships of all kinds far longer than most other types.”Wanting to feel that there is something solid and clear-cut in their lives, they can become attached to explanations or positions that seem to explain their situation. Once they establish a trustworthy belief, they do not easily question it, nor do they want others to do so. The same is true for individuals in a Six’s life: once Sixes feel they can trust someone, they go to great lengths to maintain connections with the person who acts as a sounding board, a mentor, or a regulator for the Six’s emotional reactions and behavior.” “Investigating "unknown territory"—knowing something that others do not know, or creating something that no one has ever experienced—allows Fives to have a niche for themselves that no one else occupies.” Kira - 5w4 Knowing she would struggle to fit into normal society because of her deafness, Kira seeks to make herself important to others by making discoveries and creating new things. She often called on the 5 tendency to rely on their knowledge and curiosity in her classes, and made a name for herself as the smart girl, not just the Deaf girl. Her passion for strange and new fields of study allowed her to keep an open mind when she first learned of the existence of vampires, and also helped her delve deeply into the lore surrounding them when she became a vigilante hunter. As she's grown, Kira has become more in touch with the 4 side of herself as well, accepting her uniqueness and seeing that as a gift. “Behind Fives’ relentless pursuit of knowledge are deep insecurities about their ability to function successfully in the world.  Fives “take a step back” into their minds where they feel more capable. Their belief is that from the safety of their minds they will eventually figure out how to do things—and one day rejoin the world. Fives are not interested in exploring what is already familiar and well-established; rather, their attention is drawn to the unusual, the overlooked, the secret, the occult, the bizarre, the fantastic, the “unthinkable.” ” “Fours maintain their identity by seeing themselves as fundamentally different from others.” Cody - 2w3 Cody is at heart a giver. He grew up being the friend Robin needed, and that was such a formative part of his identity that when Robin left Rowan House to become a hunter, Cody felt adrift. As the youngest child of his family, he'd relied on his friendship with Robin as an outlet for his need to be useful and needed, since his siblings didn't seem to want the nurturing. Since then, he's channeled that into his work, where he enjoys helping people find the information or books or other help that they need at the library. While he's very selfless, Cody is also ambitious, deeply driven to create stories that he can share with the world. His drive to become a published, successful author is the main evidence of his 3 wing. "Being generous and going out of their way for others makes Twos feel that theirs is the richest, most meaningful way to live. The love and concern they feel—and the genuine good they do—warms their hearts and makes them feel worthwhile. Twos are most interested in what they feel to be the “really, really good” things in life—love, closeness, sharing, family, and friendship. Healthy Twos are the embodiment of “the good parent”: someone who sees [people] as they are, understands them with immense compassion, helps and encourages with infinite patience, and is always willing to lend a hand—while knowing precisely how and when to let go." "Threes are often successful and well liked because, of all the types, they most believe in themselves and in developing their talents and capacities. Threes want to make sure their lives are a success, however that is defined by their family, their culture, and their social sphere. No matter how success is defined, Threes will try to become somebody noteworthy in their family and their community." Maira - 9w8 Maira's basic 9 type has allowed her to navigate her world by finding the paths of lesser resistance. She's wise enough to know when to back down and seek another route to her goal, and this has gotten her far in her world. People respect her shrewd 'chess match' movements, but also like her as a person since she has managed to maintain a reputation of being even-handed, understanding, and willing to seek negotiated solutions. But making the mistake of thinking Maira is a pushover is a dangerous one. Her 8 side is strongest when she encounters an injustice or cruelty. Maira has her breaking point, and woe to the person who pushes her over it. "Peacemakers are the skilled mediators and counsellors in a group of friends or coworkers. They work hard behind the scenes in order to keep the group harmony steady and flowing. As children, they knew how to get along with each classmate, making them a great addition to any group project. They can easily see the many different sides to an issue and tend not to jump to conclusions quickly, if at all. Complacent and humble, Peacemakers are stable and gentle, willing to go the extra mile to avoid rocking the boat. Soft-spoken yet firm in their personal stances, they make an effort to neutralize tension and restore group harmony." "Eights have enormous willpower and vitality, and they feel most alive when they are exercising these capacities in the world. They use their abundant energy to effect changes in their environment—to “leave their mark" on it—but also to keep the environment, and especially other people, from hurting them and those they care about. At an early age, Eights understand that this requires strength, will, persistence, and endurance—qualities that they develop in themselves and which they look for in others." Emma - 5w6 Emma's 5 tendency to acquire esoteric knowledge is one of the reasons she's risen so rapidly in vampire society since her turning. She's learned a great deal about herself and her fellow vampires, and she uses that knowledge to her advantage. She's well known for being not only on the cutting edge of knowing what's happening in the city, but for being able to analyze that information and interpret what it will mean for the vampire community and the wider city population. Her 6 side is evident in her formation of a coven that accepts vampires who were not turned by its own members, giving outcasts or vampires who broke free from their sires like her a place of safety. "Fives think, “I am going to find something that I can do really well, and then I will be able to meet the challenges of life.” They therefore develop an intense focus on whatever they can master and feel secure about. Depending on their intelligence and the resources available to them, they focus intensely on mastering something that has captured their interest. Much of their time gets spent "collecting" and developing ideas and skills they believe will make them feel confident and prepared. They want to retain everything that they have learned and “carry it around in their heads.” " "Sixes rely on structures, allies, beliefs, and supports outside themselves for guidance to survive. If suitable structures do not exist, they will help create and maintain them." Arion - 7w8 Arion is perhaps the poster child of the dangerous side of the 7 type. A hedonistic pleasure seeker, he's driven by filling his life with whatever he enjoys. He has acquired a wide range of talents and interests. But his vampire bloodthirst is his most intense drive. Unlike some vampires who control and manage their impulses, Arion embraces them. He revels in the pleasure of drinking real blood, and sees nothing wrong with seeking it out. His 8 side makes him truly dangerous, because in addition to his craving for a life of comfort and ease, he has a powerful drive to do whatever it takes to attain that goal. While he is fully capable of luxuriating in his pleasures, he is also willing to temporarily put them aside in pursuit of one he believes will be even greater." "Sevens are enthusiastic about almost everything that catches their attention. They approach life with curiosity, optimism, and a sense of adventure, like “kids in a candy store” who look at the world in wide-eyed, rapt anticipation of all the good things they are about to experience. They are bold and vivacious, pursuing what they want in life with a cheerful determination. Sevens are compelled to stay on the go, moving from one experience to the next, searching for more stimulation." "Eights do not want to be controlled or to allow others to have power over them. Much of their behavior is involved with making sure that they retain and increase whatever power they have for as long as possible. They often refuse to “give in” to social convention, and they can defy fear, shame, and concern about the consequences of their actions. Although they are usually aware of what people think of them, they do not let the opinions of others sway them. They go about their business with a steely determination that can be awe inspiring, even intimidating to others."

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know! (Type description references taken from https://www.enneagraminstitute.com and https://www.truity.com/enneagram/9-types-enneagram)