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the12thnightproject · 1 year ago

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Chapter 12: Fresh Air: Mitsuhide and Katsu take their act on the road… hopefully they’ll survive the palanquin journey.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Professionalism warred with fear as Mitsuhide guided me to the street where the palanquin lurked. Yes, I’m contracted to behave in public, but I hadn’t thought to put “no small spaces,” into our agreement. Would it even be possible to control the panic and willingly climb into a box?

Mitsuhide slid open the door, but my feet did not want to move. He stepped closer and spoke in a voice quiet enough to prevent the porters from hearing him. “Dear me, one would think that you’re afraid to being in such close quarters with me. Worried that you’ll be unable to resist me when we’re face to face?”

“That’s not it.” His teasing hardly made an impression at this point. My throat was already closing. Though I rarely told people about my phobia, Mitsuhide was minutes away from finding out the hard way. “It’s the box. I don’t enjoy being confined in this manner.”

Either he had no ability to conceptualize how frightened I was, or he figured he could talk me through it, because Mitsuhide simply picked my frozen body up and carried me inside.

“We do not have time to debate this.” He settled me firmly in front of him, and before I managed to utter a word of protest, the porters lifted the palanquin onto their shoulders. The sudden motion rocked me forward and I fell right into Mitsuhide. By the time I scrambled to a secure kneeling position on the floor cushion, we were already on our way to the Aguchi-jinja Shrine where the kaigoshu regularly met.

Quickly, I twisted my face to look through the window… only to realize it was covered by thick silk blinds. The little light that passed through only bathed the palanquin in a reddish glow.

Breathe.

Air.

I can do this.

I wasn’t alone, though I considered Mitsuhide’s company dubious at best.

Breathe.

I can do this.

Fresh air came in at the edges of the window. I could feel it. I was not alone. I was not locked in.

I gripped the side of the palanquin, trying to ground myself, trying to determine the boundary between myself and the walls.

“You were not being purposefully obstructive.” Mitsuhide’s dry tone pulled on my attention. “You truly do not like being enclosed.”

“What was your first clue?” Please don’t use this against me. I took a deep breath… and another. And a third.

“The fact that my wrist now bears indentations of your fingernails.” I hadn’t even realized I had grabbed him. Mitsuhide pried my fingers off his arm, and transferred my grip to his hand. “Unless you are using this somewhat painful method to signify that you wished to hold my hand.”

“I was not.” That said, holding someone’s hand wasn’t completely unwelcome in this circumstance. His skin was cool and dry, his grip firm, and I felt more anchored to reality. I would have thanked him, except it was also his fault that I was stuck in here, and one good deed did not negate that.

“Perhaps, rather than fighting me on everything,” he tapped his finger on my forehead, “if you choose the most important battle, or if you can imagine such a thing, not fight with me at all, then I would realize when you have objections with merit.”

Oh sure, now he wants logic. “I don’t fight with you about everything.”

“Therein proving my point.” He reached across me to lift the shade that covered the window slats. “Does this help?”

“It does, somewhat.” I kept my eyes on the window, my breathing coming easier now, as the townhouse storefronts of the merchant district gave way to bigger manors with gardens and courtyards. The sun was setting and the sky had turned pale violet. I still didn’t like being in here, but seeing the outside world was enough to make it tolerable.

A breeze from the sea brushed across my face. The ocean-scented air was welcome, although probably it would be a bad idea to let it ruin the hairstyle that Sho had labored over most of the afternoon. With my free hand, I tentatively poked at one of the complicated knots. “It feels like she lacquered it.”

“Not a single hair is out of place. Rather it appears…” his voice trailed off, after taking on a considering tone. A dangerous tone. “It may be too perfect.”

“Was that not the impression you’ve created for your Kyubei character? That he very much takes stock in appearances?” So different from the real Kyubei that I again worried that his vassal would never be able to return to Sakai.

Mitsuhide tugged a piece of hair out of one of the knots, and it sprung free to curl under my ear.

“Hey! Why did you do that?” If Sho were around, then respect for age and authority or not, she’d probably kill him.

Or worse … she’d cry.

“The man I am portraying wants to possess pretty things, and show off that they are his, even as he mistreats his toys.” Mitsuhide freed another piece of hair, allowing it to twine through his fingers. “He would think nothing of arriving at this meeting having … played… with his concubine en route. He might even have marked her.”

He traced that strand of hair from where it lay against my neck, slowly trailing his finger down…

…along my throat…

… finally resting at the hollow where my neck met my shoulder. “Right there.”

Had I thought his hand was cool? Everywhere he had touched now smoldered with a warm steady glow, like a flame slowly working its way along the fuse of a rifle.

“Don’t even think about it.” Was I talking to him or to myself? Suddenly aware that I was practically in his lap, I rocked backward, pressing myself against the wall of the palanquin. “Try it and I’ll cut your throat in your sleep.” I covered my neck with my hands.

“You wouldn’t find it painful. In fact, I believe the experience would be extremely pleasurable.” He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Peace, brat. I won’t mar that lovely skin… not tonight anyway.”

Not trusting him, I kept my hands where they were.

“Perhaps this instead.” He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, smearing the lip rouge that Sho had so carefully applied. His thumb was rough and calloused, though the touch was soft and gentle, and the confusing contrasts pushed my breath into my throat, where it hovered there, waiting...

I could not look away.

Then he rubbed that thumb over his own lips, transferring the rouge to his mouth, turning it into a slash of red.

I still could not look away, even when he flashed that teasing grin at me, acting as if he was privy to a secret knowledge that I did not share.

He looked good in make-up – belatedly I noticed he had outlined his eyes in kohl. In modern Japan, I imagined he could easily pass as a glam rocker.

“Ah. We are here.” He calmly… dispassionately slid open the door, winking at me before rearranging his face into the cruel Kyubei mask. “Head down. Stay quiet. After the meeting, the cowed Kaya will circulate and hope that her master doesn’t notice her. If I need you by my side to listen, I will come get you.”

He climbed out of the palanquin, then turned and offered me a hand.

With my nerves still rattling, I took it.

What had that been about? Was it really to costume ourselves for the roles we were about to play? Or had he been trying to take my mind off my fear?

I sneaked a look at his face. Those now too-red lips gave nothing away.

The meeting of the Kaigoshu was initially, at least in some ways, like nothing I had expected, partially because it seemed so wrong to conduct governing business in a shrine. But it was their usual meeting place. Aside from the location, it seemed to be like every other committee meeting ever. Countless topics and complaints were presented for debate, and nothing was ever solved. The thirty-six official members argued between themselves about so may petty issues:

Should taxes be collected on the same day every fourth week?

Were the merchants who lived closest to the moat more responsible for its upkeep?

Should the new foundry be built that close to the premises of a fabric store?

Even when Nobunaga’s name was brought up – a topic sure to interest Mitsuhide – it turned out to be a nothingburger, as the Kaigoshu members were convinced that Oda’s interest in trade would prevent him from interfering with the merchants of Sakai.

Yet.

He would eventually, but these men, and they were all men, didn’t have much imagination.

Once all the official business had been taken care of – or brought up, ignored, or dumped on someone drafted to solve it - it was time for non-member requests and a delegation of foreign merchants joined us.

With a shock, I saw the priest from the auction - he was acting as their translator. In all that had happened, I’d forgotten he existed. Hopefully, he had forgotten me as well, but in case he hadn’t, I edged behind Mitsuhide. While Katsu had the ability to become invisible… Kaya did not. Mitsuhide didn’t visibly acknowledge my reaction to the man, although he did discreetly pat my arm. I supposed that was all he could offer as reassurance, given that we were in public.

If the priest noticed us, he didn’t let on. Most likely he was being kept too busy translating for the Portuguese merchants, as they all started yelling at once. Eventually, one of the Kaigoshu held up his hand for silence, and pointed to the loudest merchant to go first.

The merchant, with the Priest translating accurately (although he was smart enough not to translate a couple of egregious breaches of etiquette) requested that his imported fabrics not be stored in the same warehouse as the spice merchant’s stock.

His request was shuttled off to two merchants who owned the dockside warehouse in question, in a rather ‘settle it yourselves’ solution. Another foreign merchant noted that there was a growing demand in the West for ‘oriental’ silverworks and wondered if he could be put in touch with local craftsmen. None of these matters seemed like they were related to our missing persons case, and I started to wonder that my entire masquerade would turn out to be a colossal waste of time.

After a parade of requests, the full gathering broke into smaller groups, to discuss specialized issues and projects. The priest accompanied the merchant who didn’t want his fabrics smelling like to spice to the previously mentioned ‘settle it yourselves’ meeting. Some of the other Nanban left the building to wander through the shrine’s grounds.

Mitsuhide nodded at a couple who were strolling toward the courtyard. “If you follow those two, I’ll circulate here amongst our countrymen.”

Fine by me – it would take me out of the vicinity of that priest.

While Mitsuhide approached Tadayo, the fabric merchant we had met last week, I went outside to the garden area full of smaller shrines, statuary, and sacred trees.

The Nanban merchants stopped at a statue portraying Raijin and Fujin, their conversation loud enough to be overheard. I walked past them, head down, hands neatly folded, then paused in front of a hokora, to stand in “prayer.”

At first, the merchants made fun of the sculpture, noting that they were ugly (pushing their luck, they were since they were insulting the Gods of lightning and wind – these were not beings that people who relied upon overseas shipping for profit could afford to anger) and speculating that even the uncultured English would not pay for the like. Upon noticing me, one of them said to the other, “that bit of exotic fluff though. We could command any price for merchandise like that.”

Ok. Yuck. But where? Who would they sell to?

Not betraying my interest in their conversation, I continued to stay as still as the statues lining the walkway. And while I could not be invisible dressed as Kaya, I could still be apparently oblivious and no threat to these men.

“I wonder if she know any tricks with toys.” The speaker continued along this vein, complaining about his unimaginative and pious wife.

All this was, of course, creepy, but it wasn’t helping me find Aki, Hideyoshi or Mai. Instead, I had to stand there and listen to them speculate on my bedroom skills. Both men would be happy to have a Japanese mistress, but it was clear they would rather pay a professional courtesan, rather than go to the trouble of acquiring a slave that they would be responsible for until resale. Of course, if one could be acquired and discarded easily, it would be another story.

Unfortunately, I was still stuck in this dead end, listening, for I suspected that if I turned to leave, the two of them might become more assertive if I were to pass within arms’ reach.

“Ah! Senhor Shojumaru!” One of the Nanban greeted the man, just as a third set of footsteps made his presence known. “We were admiring your country’s religious iconography. And the garden. So unusual. Such new and exciting flowers.”

Um. We were in a rock garden. But… details. Interestingly, they had addressed him in Portuguese, so apparently Shojumaru was fluent in that language.

Good to know.

There was the sound of a striking of flint, then a few moments later the smell of tobacco reached my nose. Shojumaru responded to their greeting in Portuguese - he knew these two men well enough to address them by name – Senhors de Sousa and Pegado.

“How is the latest shipment working out?” That was de Sousa again.

“We have no cause to be displeased.” Shojumaru took a long draw on his cigar as the three of them moved a little deeper into the courtyard. Luckily, they stopped before they got out of earshot.

“We have another ship arriving from Goa soon. Would you be able to guarantee safe passage for the same price?” De Sousa offered no additional details about what was on that ship, though Goa generally meant cotton and spice. Nothing illegal, although the safe passage did ping a question. How could Shojumaru guarantee that, why was he guaranteeing it to Nanban, whose ships those had to be, and safety from what?

I kept careful mental notes of all that. Hopefully, Mitsuhide was discovering additional pieces of the puzzle. So far, none of this seemed to be related to the slave trade, for that would be something that would be coming from here, not to.

It was only after I had almost given up the idea that I would hear something useful that Senhor Pegado asked about finding women to ship to Europe. It was a feel-things-out kind of question, tentatively phrased, and I don’t think they had any direct knowledge of Shojumaru’s involvement.

… and apparently he had no involvement. “I do not deal in human cargo. It is an insult to suggest that I would.”

The way the previously affable Shojumaru all but growled it had the other two backing off, although one of them offered a half-hearted apology. “Pardon, Senor. We had heard that you might be amenable to any type of exports or imports, but clearly our information was incorrect.” Then both men decided they’d had enough of the night air and scuttled away.

“Pleasure doing business with ye,” he muttered at their retreating backs, and once again his voice echoed across my consciousness.

Pleasure doing business with ye. Why did those words-

Crunch.

That night air that sent the Portuguese back to the shrine and a chill down my back also carried the sound of more footsteps, and the rustling of heavy fabric… fabric too heavy to belong to any of the Japanese merchants.

It was the sound of a priest’s robes brushing along the leaf-strewn walkway.

There had only been one priest in tonight’s delegation and I absolutely did not want to encounter him in this dimly lit courtyard.

Cursing my light colored kimono, I scooted off the path, as quickly and silently as possible, doubling around brush until I slipped behind an ornamental shrub thick enough to hide me from view. I dropped to my knees, biting my lip to avoid cursing when I banged my kneecap on a large … rock?

Carefully feeling around the dimensions of the rock, revealed it to be a small statue… of Jizo, if I were to guess by touch and size. Jizo was a Buddhist diety, technically out of place at this Shinto shrine, which was probably why it had been half-hidden in the shrubbery. Many people however worshipped Buddhist and Shinto Gods indiscriminately, and to be honest, at the moment, I could use a little protection from this little guardian of children and travelers.

With his cassock ominously whooshing along the ground, the Priest approached… then halted directly in front of the bush.

Jizo… a little more help here, please?

Could he see me? Smell me? Or sense me?

Nothing happened.

I counted off seconds in my head, and when I reached sixty, I risked peering through the leaves – the man wasn’t even looking in my direction. No, he was watching Shojumaru, who continued to smoke his cigar. A tiny glow of orange illuminated his face, which had been wiped of that ingratiating smile.

And yet another set of footsteps. At this point, there were probably more people out here on the grounds than there were inside the main shrine. “Master Shojumaru.”

That… was Mitsuhide’s voice. In front of me, the Priest’s posture stiffened. Alerted.

In a moment, Mitsuhide came into view. When he reached Shojumaru he bowed – just a slight shifting of his upper body that indicated he believed Shojumaru was in a lower caste.

What had appeared to be a calculated insult rolled right past Shojumaru. He couldn’t have missed it, so either he didn’t care, or was saving up for a later revenge. I was more curious to discover why Mitsuhide purposely tried to insult him.

“Master Kyubei.” A much deeper bow, flattering. I felt like I was watching a play – or I did until the priest shifted position and blocked my view. “Did you find the meeting useful?”

“It appeared to be similar to the petty maneuverings of a father who has yet to realize his child has surpassed him.” Mitsuhide more than likely grimaced at that, but it was too dark from where I was hiding to see his expression. “Ruling by committee would be useless in the face of a real threat. When attacked, one must act, not run back and meet to decide what to do. Surely you must agree, for you don’t appear to be a member of the Kaigoshu. Or… have you not been asked?”

“I have no role in the Kaigoshu due only to time and other responsibilities. I travel frequently.” Shojumaru gestured broadly with the hand holding the cigar. Even tonight he wore gloves, though it wasn’t nearly cold enough to require them.

“My mistake. Ah well. These petty officials can enjoy their posturing while it lasts. I’ll take care of my own interests with or without them.” All was quiet a moment, aside from the rustle of wind that brought the scent of tobacco and incense and body-odor d’priest to my nose. “That interest, of course, includes my latest toy. I was told she had wandered out here – did you perhaps see where she went? She’s new and has yet to learn that her place is at my shoulder.”

It was just acting, but I still felt gross. Maybe because I had just been treated like an exotic object by the Nanban merchants. Maybe it was because I was less than half a meter away from a man who had tried to buy me. But since Mitsuhide was well aware that I was out here somewhere, I figured he was testing Shojumaru, giving him a chance to pick a side of what might be considered a moral issue.

“The girl? I noticed her praying earlier.” He had?! “But I don’t know where she is now.”

Once again, the Priest shifted position. But if I had any hope that he would be leaving that wish went unanswered.

Jizo… please?

The cassock rustled again, I could see the man fumbling at his waist.

Please don’t pee.

Especially not on me.

The priest did not take out the item I had been worried about. If only! Instead, what he held in his hand, its gold handle glinting faintly in the lantern light, was a wheellock pistol. Calmly, with enough familiarity to assure me that the man was used to, and unafraid of using, the weapon, he pointed it at Mitsuhide.

@bestbryn @lyds323 @selenacosmic @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #ten things i hate about mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen motonari #mitsuhide monday #ao3 link

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weerd1 · 1 year ago

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ENT Rewatch Starlog, 11 February, 2024: Episode 3.10 “Similitude”

We open with what appears to be the funeral of Commander Tucker before flashing back to two weeks prior. Trip and T’Pol are engaging in a neuropressure session while Trip discusses what he thinks can be a way to get Enterprise to maintain high warp factors longer. They put the plan to the test, but it results in Trip in a coma from the explosion and the NX-01 stranded in a cloud of magnetic dust that is slowly coating the ship and will eventually damage her beyond repair.

Phlox reveals he has an animal in his menagerie that he usually just takes enzymes from, but if injected with DNA, could result in a rapidly aging clone. Phlox proposes using this method to crate a copy of Trip, which in a few days would mature to the point of being able to harvest brain matter to repair the original. The clone meanwhile would age out comfortably in about two weeks.

Archer is reluctant but agrees as the Enterprise’s situation becomes more dire. Soon Phlox is raising an infant mimetic simbiot, which he dubs “Sim.” As the child rapidly grows, it becomes clear that he has Tucker’s memories, requiring Archer to explain to the pre-adolescent version who he really is and his purpose.

As they crew races to figure out how to free Enterprise, Sim joins in. He also reveals to T’Pol that he has feelings for her, but he is unsure if they are his own or belong to Trip.

He does devise a way to tow Enterprise out of the cloud. Phlox meanwhile discovers that Sim will NOT survive the procedure to save Tucker. Sim begins to suggest there may be research that would prevent his rapid aging, and that perhaps it would be worth trying to save his life as he is good NOW, and would simply continue on AS Commander Tucker. Phlox argues that there is very little chance it would work, and Archer makes it clear he will do anything to save Trip. Sim seems to acquiesce, but then tries to steal a shuttle. He stops before taking off though telling Archer he really has no where to go, and knows he will be gone soon either way. At least if he helps Trip something good can come from it all.

As he prepared to report to sickbay, T’Pol stops him, kissing him tenderly. He then goes to his fate. We return to the funeral to see Sim in the coffin, and Trip present at the funeral. Archer notes how Sim’s sacrifice may indeed help save everyone on Earth before committing Sim’s body to space.

Holy Shades of Tuvix, Batman. Rewatching this episode made me deeply uncomfortable, though the performances here are top notch. I admit I have a hard time buying that Phlox’s ethics would allow him to even suggest this course of action. Also, it seems a bit of a story stretch to say it would somehow be easier to make a WHOLE OTHER TUCKER than just clone some brain matter in some way, but I will give them credit that they wave the technobabble wand at the problem, and Phlox does legitimately believe Sim will live out his own complete, albeit short, lifespan regardless of the procedure. Why the doctor thinks borrowing enough brain to fix damage that made Trip comatose wouldn’t have an affect on Sim is also something it’s hard to suspend disbelief on for me, but here we are.

The developments for the T’Pol/Trip relationship are interesting here, and will certainly be referenced in future episodes. Morally though, I’m not sure where this episode leaves me with Phlox and Archer, and that certainly calls back to the moral conundrum Janeway faces in “Tuvix.” In that situation though, it is an accident that presents the situation; here these two CHOOSE to go forward with making an entire lifeform that will be sacrificed to save a crew member. I’m not sure that’s the choice I would go with.

Next Voyage: The turn of the 20th to 21st Century proves to again be pivotal to history as the crew ends up in 2004 on “Carpenter Street.”

(Images taken from the main website for @trekcore; I am happy to remove the images if asked.)

#star trek #star trek enterprise #enterprise rewatch #Enterprise season 3 #similitude #Xindi saga #enterprise

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hairstyleforteen · 9 months ago

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OUR TOP PICK! Wella Blondor Multi Blonde Powder Lightener This best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is perfect when you want to go blonde with your natural hair color. Apply this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair, and it will turn your hair at least seven shades lighter. It is recommended that for you to get the best results with this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair, you should remove any hair highlights. If your hair’s base color is black or wheatish, then you might have to bleach several times using this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair. Wella blonder best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is a professional level product. However, you don't need to have a colorist license to purchase this bleach. This is a ready home kit that you can use right away, and all you need is to know the tip and tricks of applying this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair to get professional results. This best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is powder type, so when you apply it, you will give a silky-smooth feeling to your strands. Another advantage of this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is its anti-dust formula, making it safe for your lungs. Plus, it results in intense, vibrant shades. Check Price on Amazon! Runners Up L'Oreal Quick Blue Powder Bleach L’Oreal quick blue powder bleach best hair bleaching kit for dark hair contains at least a pound of finely powdered bleach. It has an anti-dust property, which makes it safe for your lungs. This is a professional-level product, so it is crucial that if you are using it on a client, they are not left with a dusty feeling during the bleach's application. This best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is exclusively made for salons by L’Oreal. It is meant to be used by professionals. However, the good news is the product is now available for the public as a home bleaching kit. If professional experts are using this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair, then it is certainly a good option as a home kit. Who wouldn't want salon level products for their home hair bleaching projects? The advantage of this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is its mild smell. Bleaching is a time-consuming process, so a lot of professionals go for products with little or zero smell. The same will apply to you as well since you wouldn't want a product that leaves behind a bleach chemical smell after the application. Check Price on Amazon! Manic Panic Flash Lightning Hair Bleach Kit Manic panic flash lightning best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is a dust-free hair bleaching product. It comes in fine powdered form. This best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is a good option for people who want to achieve darker to lighter shades. However, it is crucial to slowly use this product to achieve the desired shade to maintain hair health and avoid damage. In this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair, all the required bleaching equipment are included along with the main hair bleaching products. Once you open this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair, you will find the mixer box, developer, hand gloves, and plastic cup. A tinting brush is available too. Overall, this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair is ideal before you get multi-colored shades on your hair. This best hair bleaching kit for dark hair will lighten up your hair's color by seven shades. You may end up with brownish to dark blonde shades. If you want to undergo dye treatments after bleaching, this best hair bleaching kit for dark hair will be of great help. You need to apply this product frequently if you want to go lighter. A blue toner is included in each kit. These extras are crucial to coming up with professional style outcomes. There are detailed instructions included so you can apply the main bleach properly as well as the accessories. Check Price on Amazon!

Final Thoughts

Once you have achieved your desired light blonde look, you can turn up the magic on your hair. The latest technology infused into the best hair bleaching kit for dark hair can make your locks ready for the trendiest colors. Experimenting with your look has never been so easy. With a little know-how and choosing the best products on the market, you can achieve dramatic transformations. Read the full article

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mysticalbelieverprincess · 1 year ago

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Body Cream Product Review For Vanilla Amber Musk From Bodycology

Companies take advantage of the average person's limited knowledge concerning what causes lost firmness and sagging. They talk about the collagen and elastin fibers the cause of the skin's shade. Then, they insinuate that including those proteins as ingredients in skincare products will firm and rejuvenate.

To prepare your garden for planting, scrape the grass or growth away utilizing the flat blade of a pick guitar. Shake the dirt out nivea body lotion from the clods and toss the remains into the compost pile or yard waste aquarium. Using a rototiller, turn dirt to about 24 inches in comfort zone. Rake in any additives to balance the pH or otherwise enhance dirt. Lightly spray the garden with water and let sit instantaneous. If a rototiller is not available, make use of a spade or just a pitchfork to turn the land. This method is actually time using up. Loosened soil is crucial to growing vegetables in garden. https://www.youtube.com/embed/bIQQZyjeHW0

It is often a sheep wool extract from New Zealand which energizes the production of Collagen and Elastin typically the body and keeps your smooth, firm and wrinkle free.

The thinness of your toddler's skin not makes simple to use for tears and scratches to occur, it also does not even attempt to hold in moisture which makes it easier for dry skin to from. In a healthy victoria's secret body mist adult, skin is kept moist by both the thickness on the skin and the employment of sebum. Sebum is an oily substance that is produced by hair follicles all this vaseline body lotion. It coats your skin blocking out the elements while holding vital moisture deep in the tissue.

Smooth your feet in a great all-natural foot cream that costs nothing from petrochemicals and the paraben group. Look for organic and natural products such as ingredients for cocoa butter, apricot oil and beeswax. If the cream is natural absolutely apply it directly into any splits or cracks you might be suffering from.

You use bath lotions right after you take a shower or give. They are supposed to replace the essential oils get been normally washed off each and every time you take a bath. You add milk bath formulas to your regular tub of water during baths to absorb the goodness that milk are needed to bring to ones skin. They get absorbed by your skin while you soak in. You put body lotions, due to the name suggests, all over your body. They give you that instant moisturizing effect and some comes with assorted scents to match your particular atmosphere.

Baby lotions are deemed to be suitable for delicate skin, safe enough even being used for a baby. This form usually does not contain harsh chemicals and fragrances can irritate sensitive skin. A hand cream is a type of lotion how the skin easily absorbs. And since the hand is specially prone to dryness and dehydration, hand creams should to provide instant assistance.

With this list in mind, growing older would be easier and healthier. They say, 'at 20 numerous age, the desire reigns, at 30 the wit, exact same the feeling.' So, by 40+ you'll have have gained enough wisdom and judgment as to how remain healthy and fit past 50 these kinds of performance resources of express fitness goals.You will feel yourself beautiful forever immediately after. Good luck and take good care!

#skin body lotion #anti aging skin care lotions

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thewhiskyfanatic · 1 year ago

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Just had wart or mole removal? Here’s what to do next

As technology finds easier and easier ways of achieving our aesthetic goals, more and more people are turning to companies like the Perfection Cosmetic Laser Clinic for help in removing those unwanted moles and skin blemishes. It’s now simpler and more painless than ever and many people get their blemishes removed in just one session.

But the simplicity of modern-day wart and mole removal doesn’t mean that the responsibility is completely out of the wart removal customer’s hands. Indeed, there are many things that customers can do to increase the effectiveness of their removal treatment. This blog will outline some of the best aftercare tips for wart, mole or skin tag removal customers and how a little aftercare can elevate your aesthetic results.

What Method Are You Using?

Whether a mole, wart or skin tag, removal for non-medically provoked removals can differ greatly in how invasive they are. A surgical removal of a large mole or wart will require more healing than a laser wart removal or mole removal. Freezing a wart or a mole is also less invasive, but can lead to scarring if you don’t adhere to aftercare guidelines.

Size Matters

The size and spacing of the target area will also have an effect on how long the aftercare procedure will be. It’s simple really, the larger the mole or wart is, the longer it will take to heal once it’s been removed. If you’re having several moles or warts taken care of in one sitting, the healing process will also take some time.

It’s worth remembering that a wound will clot within 24 hours, and within a week it will have started healing itself. It’s during that week that you can take measures to ensure that your skin does not visibly scar. The 24 hours clotting period also depends on the size of the wound.

Make Sure To Moisturizer

Keeping your skin moisturized will aid the healing process after a removal procedure. Skin needs the right atmosphere to heal properly, and moisture is key to keeping it nourished.

If Using Laser Therapy, Use Sun Cream

One thing that many wart removal UK customers can do to protect themselves, especially after laser treatment, is to use sun cream on the affected area. Sunlight can damage sensitive skin, and yours will be for around a week after a removal treatment by laser.

Smoking, Alcohol And Blood Thinning Medication

For the week after your procedure, try to avoid drinking too much, using tobacco and using blood thinning medication. Blood thinning medication will slow the rate of your blood clotting, whilst tobacco and alcohol will dehydrate your skin and rob it of the moisture it will need during the healing process.

Types of Moles

Let us have a look at different types of moles, which are as follows:

1. Congenital Birthmarks/Moles

Birthmarks are commonly used to describe congenital moles. They are present at birth or appear shortly after that.

2. Dysplastic Nevi and Atypical Moles

These have irregular textures, hues, and shapes. Atypical moles can occasionally develop into cancer. Our dermatologists advise inspecting your skin every month for any new changes.

3. Typical Moles and Acquired Moles

These are the common moles that can be seen almost everywhere on the skin. Ten to forty moles on the body are thought to be typical for humans.

Can You Prevent Moles?

You cannot alter your genetic propensity for mole formation, but you may take precautions to protect your current moles and prevent the growth of new ones. Always employ sun protection measures, such as wearing a broad-spectrum sunscreen, covering yourself with UV-protective clothes, and finding shade during the hottest parts of the day.

Mole Removal Options

You can treat moles using ultimate warts and moles removal treatment and achieve natural-looking results. With the aid of FDA-approved technologies and world-class professionals, our treatments follow the client’s needs, with safety and comfort being our top priorities. As a result, anticipate stunning outcomes after a few days of treatment.

Dermatologists warn against using DIY methods to remove moles. You risk complications by accidentally removing any lesion found on your skin, including moles. Before deciding on the specifics of mole removal, our experts frequently perform a biopsy of the mole for additional assessment. Our specialists conduct a microscopic examination of the biopsy specimen and provide a conclusive diagnosis.

What Is A Wart?

Warts are non-cancerous growths that appear when your skin is infected with (HPV) Human papillomavirus. The virus triggers extra cell growth, making the skin’s outer layer thick and hard. They take time to develop. A mole has pigment and hair, which gives it a distinctive appearance. Both do not exist in warts. Warts can spread from one person to another during contact, while moles cannot. Moles have a high chance of developing skin cancer because of their pigment.

Warts can appear on your hands, knees, feet, or any other area of your body. They are hard bumps deeply embedded in the skin, unlike moles. They may appear smooth on the outside, but they have calluses underneath.

Although normally painless, they can occasionally itch or hurt, and they can be humiliating and disfiguring (particularly on the feet). Additionally, warts often move from one bodily region to another and spread locally. Cutting, tearing, or picking at a wart is not advised.

Benefits of Warts and Moles Removal Treatment

Let us explore several benefits of the mole and wart removal treatment which are as follows:

Effective results: We use high-energy radio waves and low temperatures for wart removal treatment, which helps to offer desirable results. The burnt skin is shed within a week through the process of natural healing and medication offered by our specialists.

Practical outcome: A single session delivers desirable outcomes. It helps to remove 75% -100% of warts/ moles.

No scarring: The therapy helps to treat the specific areas of warts rather than affecting other healthy skin cells. It means the potential risk of scarring is less.

Safety: Our warts and moles removal treatment treats specific areas and delivers promising outcomes. Our treatment aims to remove them without scar issues.

Mole and Warts Removal: At Bangalore Dental solutions and Implant center

We remove Mole and warts using a pain-free laser which is a very popular procedure. The Laser used to remove moles is a low-intensity laser beam that simply burns the mole off the surface of the skin. After the treatment, the skin usually turns reddish or light Brown and then will scab over as any kind of burn will do. The scab should fall off within 4 to 7 days. Moles that are large and dark cannot be treated by laser as

Moles that are large and dark cannot be treated by laser as the laser does not travel deep into the skin whereas moles that you’ve had since birth or very early in life are usually suitable for laser mole removal.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. Is mole removal effective?

Yes, mole removal largely succeeds. Receiving such treatment won’t harm you because it has been tried and tested.

2. How long does recovery take after wart and mole removal?

It varies depending on the growth, but a minimum downtime of three days might be expected after treatment.

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mohitjoshi041 · 1 year ago

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Unlocking the Secret to Vibrant Locks: The Power of Color Protecting Conditioner

Color protecting condition will not only keep your color vibrant, but it does so much more. It does not stop with that. And it also offers your hair intense nourishment. It also highlights the hue of your skin like a star. What do you know? Combing your hair is a breeze because it's an expert at removing tangles. Conditioner with color protection: because your hair deserves the finest. In this post, you will learn about the benefits of Color Protecting Conditioner.

Retaining Bright Color:

With the help of color protection, you need not fear fading color. Because that is how these conditioners are formulated, this shield protects from outside elements like UV radiation and pollutants, preserving your hair's lush and vivid color for longer. Say goodbye to color fading too soon and hello to a vibrant, long-lasting shade that enhances your sense of style and individuality. Bright color retention is something to celebrate because it will give you a different look.

Intense Nourishment for Colored Tresses:

Your colored hair needs nourishment. With the colored conditioner, you can expect great nourishment for your hair, which will offer your hair a vibrant look. The end effect is hair that feels incredibly soft, manageable, and silky while maintaining its color. As Color Protecting Conditioner becomes your go-to method for keeping a gorgeous mane, embrace the twin advantages of bright color and nourished, healthy hair.

Better UV Protection:

The intense UV radiation from the sun can cause dullness and early fading in colored hair. Your hair color will stay as brilliant as the day you walk out of the salon, thanks to this invisible screen that protects it from the harmful effects of sun exposure. Your confidence level will be on different scales, so you can attend any outdoor events with a big smile.

Prolonged Brilliance:

Beyond only keeping your color vibrant, Color Protecting Conditioner adds to your colored hair's enduring shine. Its unique recipe improves your hair's inherent shine while protecting it from outside aggressors. This conditioner gives your hair a luminous sheen that enhances the overall brilliance of your color by encouraging light reflection on the hair's surface. Savor the reflective sheen that becomes a signature of your colored hair, making you stand out at every turn.

Unwinding Happiness:

As you color your hair, it can be broken. But Color Protecting Conditioner is a master at detangling in addition to its color-preserving functions. Combining these nutritious components will smoothen the hair's cuticle, minimizing friction and making combing easier. Wave goodbye to the problems caused by tangles after showering since this conditioner keeps your hair free of knots and maintains your color, making styling fun and stress-free.

Bottom Line:

The above points can be quite interesting for you as they define the power of color-protecting conditioners. It is quite easy for you to find the best color protection conditioner at Barcode Professional to enjoy its benefits, enhancing your look and confidence. You should invest your time in choosing one.

#Color Protecting Conditioner #Conditioner

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photiniainsummer · 4 years ago

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Dancing with the Dark

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You've taken to lingering around Dark's office late at night when he thinks he's alone with his old jazz standards.

Or so you thought, until one night you find the door open.

You've always wondered what exactly he does behind it...

It's listen to music. Get your mind out of the gutter. ;)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 6860

Author’s Note: No warnings - this is really all just tooth-rotting, tender, slow build romance. There is dancin' and smoochin', though. 👀 Also posted to AO3!

It wasn’t something you had intended to intrude on. The Manor is big, but not that big, and it just so happens that the quickest route to your bedroom means you have to pass Dark’s office suite. As your nights have gotten later and later, trying to keep tabs on Mark and the poor, scattered egos he’s made and dumped, more and more often have you caught soft, crackling music drifting out from behind your sort-of boss’ heavy office door.

At first, you mostly ignored it, noting it with a small smile and continuing to bed. It’s really none of your business what the shadowy man does in his free time, you figured. Plus, you all manage to live on top of one another, despite the Manor’s size, which puts privacy at a premium - who are you to deny him some when he can get it? But as time has passed and you’ve worked intensely together, the original enmity between you two has turned into a professional respect and eventually, you’d hazard, a friendly banter. At least, such as Dark is willing to joke around.

And so, tempted by your mutual softening, and maybe a little curiosity as to what kind of music your ‘leader’ listens to, you’ve found yourself pausing in your path to bed when you catch him playing a record. At first, you only stopped briefly at the top of the stairs with his office across the landing from you, taking a moment to appreciate a few bars of dreamy jazz. It was peaceful, almost magnetically melodic. But you quickly grew self-conscious in your eavesdropping, and, not wanting to seem nosy (despite the fact you definitely were being nosy), moved along to your room.

You crossed the landing to the bit of wall near his door, next, but kept a keen eye on the stairs behind you in case you needed to make a sudden retreat. For a week or so, you took longer, lingering there at the mouth of the short hallway to his office. You would take in a full song before you got antsy, concerned Dark might get up to make a late-night cup of tea and discover you. Even so, you had found it hard to pull yourself away from the lilting voices of his records - time seemed to slow, for just a little while, and you felt you breathed easier, deeper even, once you were back in your bedroom.

Finally, now, and most nights for the last month, you’ve let yourself truly relax just outside his door. He never leaves, not that you’ve seen, and so you’ve taken to resting in the shadow of the short hallway and letting the hypnotic drags of a brush across a snare, crooning voices over a string quartet wrap around you. Dark’s music is never truly jazzy, never truly swinging, and it soothes you like very little else can these days. It’s steady - you think that’s what’s so appealing about it - drawing you in at the end of a long day for a moment of reprieve, floating outside of time in the gentle shade of this corner of the Manor.

You’ve gotten used to it, to be sure. The sleepy, tripping dance of a horn greets you at the end of each long day spent combing through Mark’s videos, hunting for hints as to his next move. The quiet moments spent letting the gentle jazz unwind some tight thing in your chest have become just as much your routine as they are Dark’s - and you understand why he takes the time. Until you started lingering to listen, you were harder up for time alone than you thought with barely a moment to spend in your own head. Everything was focused on maneuvering around Mark, a seemingly endless game of cat-and-mouse that left you tossing and turning and jittering yourself into an exhausted unconsciousness each night. But now, you fall asleep faster, wake up feeling more rested having actually relaxed before bundling down under your covers. You had found a little corner of peace, thanks to Dark. And, perhaps, thanks to your damned nosiness, as the man himself had called it once.

Only occasionally as you lean against the wallpaper have you allowed yourself to think about the man behind the door. For all your collaboration, Dark is still a mysterious, calculating, and distant figure. It’s by his own making, too. He’s been content to work closely with you planning Mark’s downfall, but keeps his own cards so close to his chest you have to wonder if he can even see them now, so to speak.

Perhaps he knows them well enough not to need to.

You’ve learned not to pry too much about any of the egos’ pasts and what they remember of them, unless you’re just in the mood for awkward, dead-end conversations. Wilford doesn’t seem troubled in the moment, human bouncy ball that he is, but responds vaguely - even for him - before up and disappearing for a few days. Google spouts some kind of technical jargon about his assembly warehouse that you can barely keep up with, then focuses intently on changing the subject. The Host only gives you one of his polite little smiles and reminds you that your futures are ‘of a more pressing nature’ than his past is.

The only one you’ve totally avoided trying to bring up the subject with is Dark. Your first real conversation had edged on it, and his reaction - aura practically blowing all the lightbulbs in the room, crackling copies of himself writhing in rage - had been pretty clearly in the ‘not positive’ camp. You’ve not had the stomach to unnecessarily incite his ire, so most of what you know about him, you’ve put together yourself. A vague understanding of his blended nature, the people he was before, their relationships to Mark… But it’s all guesses and deductive work about people long gone from the plane you inhabit. Grasping at shadows and context clues to paint a portrait of how the being, who deeply dislikes the outsize attention his central role as Mark’s primary ‘villain’ commands, came to be.

Yet, you do know some things about what he’s like. That he doesn’t seem to need to eat or take breaks of any kind. That he’s single-mindedly devoted to stopping Mark in his tracks, and intensely methodical about the whole endeavor. Even when you think you’ve caught him reading something for fun, it turns out to be Mark-adjacent. It’s impressive, you admit, but also why hearing those strains of songs sung long ago, finding him doing something unproductive has captured you so. To think of him taking time for himself, doing nothing but enjoying some music… it simultaneously feels incredibly decadent and comforting. For all his hardworking exterior, there are quiet moments Dark takes to relax. Even more than his music, that soothes something in your heart you didn’t even know was tense.

Plus, good lord. The man listens to croony, moony, love-sick music late at night when the rest of the Manor has retreated to their own separate corners. How could you not melt?

Yet it’s impossible for you not to wonder what exactly he does behind his office door. It’s always firmly shut, and even with the proclivity toward psychic abilities in the Manor’s residents, you can’t completely school the curiosity it inspires. Listening to a couple croon about the stars or something equally cheesy from your spot out in the hall, you’ll often picture him relaxing in one of the high-backed armchairs situated near the heavy fireplace. Maybe he’s shut the door to his workspace proper, allowed himself some wine from the cellar, propped his feet up… Maybe he’s truly relaxing, thinking of something altogether having nothing to do with his work. It’s anachronistic enough to your steadfast image of him to be ridiculous, but you also can’t help but hope it exists in some form, protected behind the dark wood that muffles already-quietly trilling piano keys.

This is why, late one night, you’re stopped in your tracks at the foot of the stairs, already able to hear his music. You’d been just about to pull yourself up the stairs by the handrails, eyes bleary from staring at your screen all day when you’d picked out the dreamy march of brass. You’ve only ever been able to hear his records when you’re standing on the landing - is something wrong? Cautiously, you ascend the tightly winding stairs, your thoughts mirroring the spiraling steps as they scramble, chasing away any haziness.

Reaching the landing, you find dancing firelight spilling out across the thick Persian rug there, Dark’s door cracked shockingly wide. The sight is almost obscene, illuminating the spot that has been your shadowy cocoon. It’s only made more stark by the clarity of the music that lilts through the air. You have the keen, embarrassed feeling that you should not be seeing what you’re seeing, that you’re intruding, infringing on something private - even though all you can see of the office is a little bit of wall just inside the door. Even so, the sudden need to stop this, to preserve something personal, quiet, safe for Dark overtakes you. You’re spurred into action, crossing the space on careful feet. You move to shut the door, to right this obvious wrong, but as your hand takes the old brass knob, the music from within murmurs tender thoughts of lovers embracing after an age apart. Even with your goal so firmly in mind, you can’t stop your eyes from flitting over the sliver of his office the crack in the door reveals.

And, oh, what it reveals.

As if intentionally centered for your view, Dark is, as you’ve imagined countless times, tucked into one of the armchairs near the fire. His suit jacket has been carefully folded and hung over the back of his chair, his starkly white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a bit of the skin at his throat. More is revealed by the tilt of his head as he rests it back in the crook of the armchair’s wings.

You’ve never seen him so… undressed before. You immediately flush, embarrassedly shooing the thought away before it can become anything more than a passing observation. You’re thankful to see that his piercing eyes are gently shut, the breaths he draws steady and quiet. Even his aura is still, nonexistent except for his colorlessness. The dull ring that accompanies him, too, is almost completely silent. Whatever remains is drowned out by the softly crackling gramaphone to his side.

Although you know he doesn’t need to sleep, the tender image of him relaxed enough as to fall into it twists something so totally in your heart that it keeps you there, hand on the doorknob. You know you need to close the door back, and carefully, too, so you don’t pop whatever bubble of peace he’s floating in, but… It’s like having a dragonfly land on the tip of your finger, spotting a deer at the edge of your garden, catching the sun breaking over the horizon and truly beginning to dawn. How can you look away before it ends?

But you’re playing with fire in waiting for this moment to end, and, unfortunately, you get burned.

At least, it feels like you do. Suddenly, Dark’s head comes up, his eyes cracking open, and the cold heat of being caught scalds the back of your neck. You go to close the door, but it’s too late - his black eyes catch yours, and he calls your name. It’s gentle, a distant question, but it still makes your heart sink into some pitiful little depth of your stomach. There’s no way to play this off casually; he sounds truly awake. Either he wasn’t actually sleeping, or you’ve startled him enough to banish any hint of drowsiness from his voice. You’ve ruined this precious little thing, your knowledge of it revealed, and, gosh, you feel miserable for it. But you were called, and so you crack the door a little wider, an apology already on your lips.

“I was just going to shut it for you, I’m sorry,” you offer, quietly, as if trying not to interrupt the music still going at his elbow.

Dark doesn’t immediately respond, watching you with his usually piercing, contrasted eyes. Yet, they’re softer, tired - was he actually sleeping? The gramophone crackles like the low fire nearby. The record playing spins wobblingly, curled with age. The music is even dreamier unfiltered like this, giving the lowly-lit room a hint of unreality. Time seems to stretch between you, and when he finally speaks, his echoing, multi-throated voice only adds to the feeling you’re imagining things.

“...you may come in, if you would like.”

Something has gone horribly wrong. He, or another ego, is dying or has died, you’re certain of it. That, or Mark has figured out your plan to collect them and gotten to one first, maybe Yancy or the Captain, taking them out of the picture or scooping them up for himself. It’s the only obvious explanation your startled mind can offer for seeing Dark so markedly undone - his jacket, his shirt, the door…

Just as quickly, you realize how ridiculous the thought is. Dark wouldn’t look like a rather sleepy cat, cozied up to the fire with his music of choice, much less invite you so casually into his inner sanctum if things had gone to hell. No, there’d be more rending of reality or quick, tense words - a contingency plan thrown into action.

Which means you actually have to deal with being invited into his office late at night, a place you’ve hovered around and imagined for nigh on a month. You force yourself to respond casually, nodding as if this is normal for the two of you as you step over the threshold. He gestures for you to shut the door, and you do, gently putting it to rights before crossing the bookshelf-lined room to join him.

Like you always do. Obviously.

Once near the fire, you can see his aura is beginning to stir once more, the edges of him blurring with compelling darkness. In all the imagining you’d dared to entertain, you have never considered what his face would look like in these moments. His brow is relaxed, his expression open, and though his attention is fully fixed on you, it doesn’t cut through you or hunt for answers. He is merely regarding, the firelight only able to cast dancing shadows across his face for all its warmth. He’s relaxed. Relax-ing .

It’s, again, almost obscene. So much more than you anticipated. It’s one thing to imagine all that you have in theory, a different one to see it in truth, to experience it. And Dark, relaxing, is something you can barely take your eyes off of. He looks so much more like a person, undone after a long day of work, not quite ready to trip off to bed. With his aura so reserved, only mildly undulating at the very edges of him, you could almost dismiss it as a trick of the light, if not for how he absorbs and negates color.

Just a man.

Trying to stay casual, you prop yourself on the chair across from him, chin in hand, and you both watch each other for a moment. Both quiet. Both tired. Except your silence is tinged with subtle awe. At being invited in, at being here, at seeing him this way. It’s like the killer panther that typically stares you down from the shadows giving you a lazy, sun-warmed blink. As much as you try to treat Dark normally, there are moments when you can’t help being amazed - though it’s usually due to his eldritch powers and not him engaging in the simple act of sleeping.

Which begs the question - why leave the door open while he was so indisposed? Mild concern rises again, and you feel compelled to ask.

“Is everything okay…?”

You swear his eyes twinkle, amused. It’s hard to tell with the fire dancing like it is, his face remaining otherwise unchanged. You want to frown, wondering how loud your thoughts have been, but leave it.

“Yes... and no, as always. Nothing has changed, if that is what you mean. There is no need to worry.”

Coming from anyone else, it would be a formality. Your shoulders would stay hunched, your brow might furrow. But when Dark says it, when he speaks more quietly than you think you’ve ever heard him speak, it scatters whatever remaining fears his invitation had kicked up to the wind. You exhale. It is a comfort, but… It doesn’t explain why he invited you in. If you had really ruined his illusion of privacy, would he so readily let you walk over its remnants?

Suddenly, the answer is clear - so simple and obvious as to be startling. You speak before you can question the thought.

“Just want some company?”

Dark continues to watch you, but his gaze loses some of its lethargy. The panther stirs, considering. Weighing. Calculating. Heat rises up your neck ever so slightly - that will teach you to jump to conclusions.

But then he hums and gives an affirming nod. He gestures to the seat you’re leaning on. “Again, if you would like…”

Is that hesitancy?

You really feel like you’re dreaming as you settle across from him. He just wants company. He hesitated. He couldn’t even ask for it. Notably distant Dark, who never joins the rest of you for meals, for after-dinner drinks, who you rarely ever see outside his office… wants company. Although the chair’s winged back curls around you and radiates warmth absorbed from the fire, you find it difficult to relax as he continues to, turning his black-and-white gaze to the fire. Does he want conversation? Comfortable silence? How are you meant to parse what he’s wanting against the background of how surreal it is that you’re actually here?

But little things remind you that this is very much happening - the heat of the nearby fire, the music’s volume being slightly louder than you’d imagined. Although, you remind yourself, you’ve been hearing it muffled by heavy wood until now. It’s still relatively soft, just clearer up close. Your eyes fall to the gramophone piping it out. You’ve seen it in passing, but it registered about as much as the carved wooden globe on the mantle - furniture, meant as a finishing touch for the room. It looks like a true antique, though, its curved neck and ornate mouth lovingly maintained, polished to a shine apart from a few inevitable age spots. It’s close enough to Dark for him to operate without getting up, records tidily shelved underneath.

Your eyes edge back to the man seated so nearby. His slowly awakening aura is gently tugging at your attention, but he himself pays you no mind. That relieves you, somewhat, a silent answer to what his idea of ��company’ is.

You realize, then, that you’ve never simply existed with him before. Throughout your time at the Manor, you two have only ever been in each other’s company to work or exchange information. There’s always been a goal, something to focus on, to accomplish. But now… there’s nothing. Nothing to do but exist.

Why does that suddenly feel so hard?

You must be thinking rather loudly, because Dark’s gaze slides leisurely from the flames onto you. He tilts his head, but not in that strange drifting motion it sometimes does, gravitating to some sick angle of its own accord. No, he’s just curious. You smile sheepishly, wondering if all your mental spinning has disturbed his peace, made him second-guess inviting you in.

“Too loud?”

Another amused flicker in his colorless eyes. “No louder than usual.”

So tired Dark has jokes , apparently. You give him a look. “Not exactly comforting.”

“To be fair, they are much quieter than when you arrived.” It’s almost a compliment - at least he’s not calling you loud anymore. Letting that be a comfort, you attempt to relax back into the chair. It, like the rest of the Manor’s furniture, feels straight out of a period drama with none of the damage of age. It’s still as soft as it was whenever Dark crafted this bubble of reality.

“It’s hard when you can’t control it - like I have noise cancelling headphones and can’t hear myself or anyone else.”

He hums. “You do not need to explain it to me.” Ouch. You look to the fire, taking the inside of your cheek between your teeth. When will you learn to keep your foot out of your mouth? Dark senses the sudden silence and mildly clears his throat. “I mean… Only to say that I understand you do not have the same ability. I do not hold it against you.”

His voice still has that quietness to it, a low, gentle undercurrent. It’s practically an apology, how he chooses his words. You shift, rubbing your finger joints with your other hand. You’ve been told it looks like hand-wringing, but it soothes you and the soreness there. “I think you saw it differently, when I first got here,” you hazard, just as quiet as you look back to him. Dark is watching you evenly, but something shifts in his brow as he recalls that first day. How different your tones had been, how differently you’d approached the other. You’re only feet from where that first conversation took place, and yet…

“...much was different, then,” he murmurs. “I was, perhaps… harsher than I should have been. I was unaccustomed to the sensation, not at my best.” He seems to stop himself there, closing something that was edging open before looking back to the fire. “I have grown used to it. The sound of your thoughts does not trouble me, but you have also improved at closing your mind. It is impressive, for someone unlike the rest of us.”

Good lord, maybe he actually is dying. You don’t think you’ve heard so many kind words from the man in all your months of living together. His gaze stays fixed on the flames, even as you stare at him, a little stunned. Silence draws out between you, filled only by tonight’s accompaniment. Yet, it doesn’t spark with nervous energy or prickle in pointed coldness. It crackles like ancient records warped with time, old oak burning to warm a place apart from the rest of existence. You settle deeper into the armchair, eyes turning from the shadow you’re keeping company.

He only barely catches your pleased little smile, finding it hard to look at you for too long.

From then on, Dark leaves the door open for you, although cracked much less wide than before. When you call it a night, you make your way through the Manor to your seat near his fire instead of right to bed. Although the weather of the world still reaches you, the place Dark maintains is always just slightly colder, so the fire’s warmth is never unwelcome. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you sit together in silence, but regardless of how chatty either of you feel, there’s always music curling underneath the moment. Dark doesn’t sleep like he did the first night, but he always has his coat off and that softer turn to his eyes by the time you arrive. It’s strange, at first, to see him switch so much between his work and leisure personas, and at first you wonder why he’s not always so relaxed. Surely things would be less tense.

And then you remember Wilford’s incessant gunfire, Google’s underlying objective, the weight of his very existence. Without his steady, cool glare, the Manor would be full of bullet holes, and they’d all probably be dead with Mark free to break reality to his whim. If Dark wasn’t so tightly wound, everything would come undone.

So you enjoy - scratch that. You let him be how he is, in each moment, without comparison. Sure, it’s nice to talk to Dark when he isn’t grinding out words from between his teeth, and seeing him undone has removed whatever distance might have remained between you, but to say you enjoy him…

Christ. Who are you kidding - you really enjoy him.

It really happens without you noticing, and it almost drives you nuts with how cliche it all is. Things just build up - he has a pillow placed in your chair just so for your lower back, you pull the smallest of smiles of him with a well-put observation (and find that his eyes crinkle the same way the other egos’ do) - until one night he asks you to dance.

He’s not quite so blunt as that about it, but it’s essentially what happens. You’re sitting together, having fallen into one of those comfortably quiet moments when a song comes on that you recognize. Not from your time lingering around Dark’s door, but from before you came to the Manor, vague memories welling up of a ballroom dancing class in undergrad you’d taken for fun full of sore toes and sweaty hands. You laugh, suddenly, startled at just how far away that moment feels. You try to cover it with your hand, but you continue to chuckle as something about the ridiculousness of it gets to you, and Dark watches you with some mix of amusement and concern. There’s a little of that predator’s intentionality there - searching for answers. You shake your head as you calm, dropping your hand but still smiling.

“Just… I know this song.”

“Oh?” Read: Continue.

“Well, I… Back in my first year at university, I... well, I signed up for this ballroom dancing unit. This was one of the songs we used, I think.” Dark inclines his head as something changes in his gaze. Your last little aftershock of laughter passes and you settle back into watching the fire lick at its grate, content to let it lie. But Dark continues to watch you. Feeling him still staring, you look back - very little of that soft turn to his eyes remains. He is a man focused. “What?” you eventually ask, shifting under his stare.

“I did not know you danced.”

You fluster, then, scoffing at the idea, eyes falling to the carpet between you. “I… don’t. Unless you count slow dancing, I guess. It was just the one class. Forever ago.”

He’s not content, fixated. But quiet. Considering. Weighing. Then…

“Would you like to?”

You look back quickly enough that you wonder if his aura pulled at you in tandem with your surprise. “Wh. I… Now?”

He nods, slowly. You just stare, trying to process the idea and coming up with no clear thoughts. Then he does something funny - he actually shifts under your scrutiny, gaze flickering away for the briefest of moments before returning to you. That alone is enough to stun you further, Dark looking practically shy, but he explains. “In my day, I was an avid dancer. I enjoyed little else outside of… work. I can show you how.”

You momentarily wonder which of his past lives he means before you find yourself nodding in agreement. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, this is… new. Dark offering so much at such little gain to himself, unfurling those cards from so close to his chest. Refusing now might mean they would never come away again.

“Can you?” Your voice is surprisingly dry, distant, but Dark doesn’t seem to notice, focused on the task now at hand. On you. He only nods and rises from his chair in a smooth motion before offering you a hand.

From experience, you know he leeches color from whatever he touches, even things in his vicinity if his aura is expansive and active enough. Yet, you’ve never had reason to make direct contact, and so you still watch in minor surprise as your hand loses its luster and gains a black-and-white cast when you take his. “It isn’t permanent,” he explains as you stand to join him. “It’s only… plants, that can’t handle it.” He sounds mildly embarrassed, and it clicks why you’ve never seen him in the Host’s garden. The future-sighted ego had probably barred him from the place years ago.

“Oh,” you reply lamely, and he ducks his head somewhat before leading you to the more open space between your chairs and the outer office door. There, he turns smoothly and you’re in position, having used his hold on your hand to subtly guide you closer. Your other hand lands on his upper arm, almost at his shoulder, and he gently shifts his elbow under yours to guide it to rest on top, near his collar. His own hand comes to rest higher on your back than you remember from class, almost on your shoulder blade.

It feels so proper, how you stand, how he holds you… Against the age-old music set to guide you and the Manor’s unchanged decor, you can almost see who he was before - the swish of a beaded skirt, the creak of a heavy cane - but then he speaks, heavy with shadow, and all you know is the darkness in your arms, here and now.

“Just a simple step. You remember a waltz?” You nod - did we dance this close together back then? “Good. Then you know to follow me. Stay relaxed...”

The idea of relaxing flies out of your mind the minute he guides you backward. All your mental energy is focused on not laughing in pure nervous surprise as he seems to get closer and closer before your muscle memory manages to kick in and you’re stepping back with him. You’re slightly out of sync, and he slows just so to catch up with you before he brings you back up to the pace of the song. “Relax,” he murmurs, dipping his head so much closer to yours than feels decent as he speaks, as if sharing a secret. “I have you.”

You certainly do, you think, immediately glad you’ve been practicing keeping your mind closed more often. With all the time you were spending with Dark in his off-hours, you had felt it was only fair that you didn’t overload him any further. That extra practice is coming in handy now as your thoughts swirl behind the dam you imagine holds them back from the general psychic public - your dance partner in particular.

True to his word, Dark keeps it simple, guiding you slowly around the open space, easily turning you in lazy patterns across the floor. And thank goodness for that - anything more complicated and you wouldn’t be able to balance it with how hyper-aware you are of everywhere the two of you touch, the feeling of his firm shoulder and crisp dress shirt under your hand, the skin of his palm against yours - softer than you’d imagined, with calluses inside his first finger from years of pen-writing.

All the same little anxieties bubble up, long-forgotten but haunting you now with a vengeance. Are you gripping him too tightly? Are you anticipating his movements too much? Is your hand getting sweaty, or is that normal? Can he hear you breathing funny? You’ve thankfully settled into a comfortable angle of faces, yours turned slightly to the left and down, eyes fixed firmly on the curve of his shoulder. You don’t think you could trust yourself to make eye contact just now. You can’t say how exactly Dark’s face is turned, though, so focused on keeping your eyes where they are and your thoughts in check that you haven’t looked - nor do you hear him speaking your name until he squeezes you ever so slightly.

You turn, bidden, and you’re practically nose to nose. His stark eyes are already watching you when you meet them, and it steals whatever shallow breath was in your lungs. Up close, you would think you would be able to discern a hint of color in his irises, find that they were really a dark, dark brown. But they are truly, completely black. And they watch you so carefully, thoughtfully, with barely any room to breathe between you.

Your face must betray how the proximity startles you, because you get treated to another of his small, almost imperceptible smiles. Up close. You can see how it pulls at his eyes, and you’re thankful now that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I… Yes?”

“You’re quiet,” he explains, after a beat.

“Do you… typically talk, dancing like this?” When did your throat get so dry? Dark chuckles, low and only for a moment.

“You can... But I was referring to your thoughts.” Uh oh.

“Oh…?” You try to sound normal, mildly interested instead of panicked, already floundering for what to say. Dark’s eyes flicker across your face, and you feel horribly exposed. As if, through the underbrush, you’ve just caught the gleam of a predator’s gaze.

“The closer you are, the more clearly I hear them. Yet…” He pauses, turning you past a low table. “I can barely hear you at all.” Then his voice grows softer, somehow, and your throat feels like it’s never known water. “Where did you go?”

“I…” You swallow fruitlessly, dropping your gaze back to his shoulder, to safety. What can you say to explain the sudden, obvious gap without blurting oh, it’s nothing, I only just realized I’ve been falling in love with you for the past couple of months when you asked me to dance and now I’m trying not to lose it while you hold me. “I’ve… been practicing,” you try. It’s the truth, at least. But you still can’t meet his eyes, though you feel them keenly observing you. “Didn’t… Didn’t want to be shouting at you, from, well... this close.”

He’s quiet then, focusing on sweeping you steadily around the room. The song has changed, your pace slowing somewhat to match the new one, and he takes the chance to guide you through a slightly more complicated step, jettisoning words in favor of taking you through a lazy spin before you fall back into the same step as before. You think you might have dodged a bullet as you settle into the movement, your gentle contact not so new and mind-reeling as it was when you started. But then he speaks, and the echo of his voice almost covers his words for how low it is.

“I… enjoy hearing your thoughts. Hearing you.” Dark’s hand holds yours more firmly as the one on your back brings you close to his chest. He’s practically cradling you against him, and you turn your face towards his in the moment to keep from being trapped looking away. You’ve never seen him make the face he’s wearing now - so serious, brow pulled just slightly, intent, yet that searching intensity has faded. Earnest . “I… I enjoy you. Unless you want your privacy, you are free to… be open with me. If you would like,” he's quick to add, his signature phrase that feels so much like as you wish.

You’re grateful he brings you to an easy stop, even as the music continues behind you because dancing has become beyond your grasp. Your eyes flicker across his shadowed face, mind scrambling as the dam you imagine creaks dangerously within. How much is too much? You hunt for clues in his expression, his face betraying so damn little like always, but then - then - his eyes flicker ever so briefly to your lips, and your eyes perceive a slightly darker shade of gray unfurling across his cheeks.

So you let go.

You don’t drown him in it, of course, but you allow your mind to open slowly once more. He inhales a forcibly steady breath, eyes searching yours once more as he processes, weighs, and finally draws you completely into him, head turning just so to finally fit your lips together in a kiss that feels like crisp, refreshing relief and wood smoke under a winter moon. You breathe in, feeling how cool he is to the touch, how steady he is under your hands, your kiss, even as his aura constantly roils.

Dark drops your hand to cradle your head and draw you further in, your arm finds its way around his broad back. His lips leave yours and you’re already starting to imagine your next kiss before he interrupts and gives it to you, a low sound in his throat and his hand bringing a tilt to your head that makes you incredibly thankful for how he’s holding you up. You kiss, and kiss, parting and rejoining in soft pecks and long presses that make the old standards you’ve bonded over sound like both the truest truths and palest lies.

Eventually, though, he withdraws, letting you catch your breath, soothing you with small kisses trailing from your lips to your jaw and back toward the joint of it and your neck. He’s adoring and unhurried - though the farther down his lips descend, the less air you can properly draw in. He slows on the softer skin there, hand still supporting your head where you tipped it back for him, and inhales gently as if he, too, needs to be steadied. His voice is a distant rumble, as much in your head as it is spoken. “Is my music really so moony...?”

It’s so sudden, your thoughts laid bare against the hint of his insecurity. A laugh bubbles up and out of you, breathless waves shaking your body. You only hold onto him tighter, and he squeezes you back in turn. You can feel him really smiling down against your neck, the pull of his lips and rounding of his cheeks evident against your sensitive skin. Why had you even tried to hide?

“The fact that you could sing any of them while gazing longingly at the stars should answer your question,” you tease, and he’s laughing with you, settling into just holding you close. “...but I like it. It’s romantic.”

“It was not my original intent, but...what wonderful results,” he murmurs, kissing your throat once more before coming back up, letting you catch your breath properly. How does he make the cheesiest things sound good?

“Mine either,” you admit. His brow quirks above warm eyes.

“No? What, then, was your intent in imagining how I chose to relax?” he asks, a wicked tease coloring his tone. You blink, and then heat rises up the back of your neck, your ears burn. He knew?? The whole time?????

“You could…” Your voice is distant as Dark draws the back of his hand softly across your cheek, fingers trailing the blush rising there. His eyes dip to follow it, watching it unfurl under your skin with the most damnably amused smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Damn him. Damn him, of course he knew!

“You should know doors can do very little to stop me…” You groan miserably. “But I liked it. It was romantic,” he continues, echoing you. It has such buried mirth that it only serves to embarrass you further, so you worm your arms against his chest, trying to push him off. He only chuckles that deep chuckle and holds you closer, lips pressing to your temple. “And so kind of you to want to protect me and my little moment… Did I really look so deliciously undressed...”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” And here he had been playing coy this whole time! Letting you just dangle all your most embarrassing thoughts for anyone to see! You continue to struggle against him, if only to register your complaint. “You’ve completely ruined this, I hope you’re happy, you insufferable--” He dips and catches your lips again, humming and silencing your insults with his kiss. For all your indignant protesting, it’s impossible not to melt against him, your hands that tried to push him away stilling against his chest before sliding up to meet behind his neck. When he finally breaks your embrace, you huff softly. “I can’t believe you.”

He’s smiling, but sobers slightly as you hold each other, his eyes just taking you in. “...it was a comfort to me, to know I was not alone in my affection… despite all my hesitation in admitting it. I did say I enjoy hearing you for a reason, lamb.”

You’re melting, but then your nose wrinkles. “Lamb?” Dark tilts his head.

“Pet?”

“Why all the animal names?”

It’s his turn to huff, then. “It seems I am not as skilled as Wilford when it comes to terms of endearment.” Your nose wrinkles further, the rotating cast of gushy names the mustachioed man throws around only making you wince with laughter.

“Please, no, I know you can do better than those.”

Dark puffs up a little at that, somehow pleased by the implication. “I’ll have to put my mind to it when I’m fresh, then. But for now…” He draws back, taking your hand into his, the other sliding up your back and into position. “Shall we?”

“Gladly,” you murmur, and he leads you in an altogether different dance.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #ego fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #mad market pliers ramblings

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sapphicquill · 4 years ago

Note

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #critickle role #critickle role fic #cr tk fic #lee caleb #ler fjord #prompt fill #chockfullofsecrets #100 follower prompt celebration #finally filling these bad boys #big thanks to poe for actually motivating me to write this thank yooooou #sapphicquillfics

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ticklishfiend · 4 years ago

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Angry Little Guy

My Hero Acadameia - Kirishima/Bakugou

A/N: heyyy haven’t written in a hot minute (again lmao)!! my mental health has been taking a tolls recently so writing has been hard, but i still hope y’all enjoy what i wrote today!! i love these boys sm and i hope to write some more for them in the future :) hope u enjoy!! xx

Summary: After Ms. Joke visits the school and forces Bakugou to laugh after he was being a grumpy-butt in class, Kirishima can’t help that he just wants to hear that cute little laugh again. But when Bakugou refuises to laugh any other way, Kirishima decides to use some...persuasive methods :))

Word Count - 2,550

—

Today was a physical training day for Class 1A, all the students gathering in the training gym in their matching blue and red outfits ready for whatever task Aizawa had prepared for them that day. Aizawa’s demeanor today, however, was just a little…off. Sure, he was being hs regular boring, monotonous self, but something about the way his eyes seemed to sink deeper into their sockets, and the way his back seemed somehow more slouched than usual, showed that the class’s teacher was a little more annoyed today than he already was regularly.

“Does Aizawa-Sensei seem more…upset than usual?” Kirishima scratched his neck worriedly, heck cocked as he watched Aizawa pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know, man, the guy’s never exactly been the bubbly type. Maybe he just got less sleep than normal,” Denki shrugged, his eyes also meeting the groggy teacher stood in front of their whole class. “What do you think, Bakugou? Think Aizawa woke up on the wrong side of the bed or what?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sparkplug, he’s about to start class,” Bakugou grumbled, not even glancing down at his bright blonde counterpart for a second.

“Okay everyone, it’s time to shut up,” Aizawa spoke loudly, his eyes tense as he stared the teens in front of him down. The mumbles in the room went silent as Aizawa began his lesson. “Today’s gonna be a little…different. Despite my pleas against this, you’ll be taught your training by a different pro-hero today from Ketsubutu High.”

Muffled whispers slowly rose up from the crowd of teens before Aizawa, mumbling predictions of who the hell could be teaching them today and why it wasn’t someone already from their school. Of course, as always, Iida’s hand was the first to shoot up and question this strange decision.

“Aizawl-Sensei, why are we being taught by a teacher from another school? Why not use any of the many teachers we have available at UA?”

“Unfortunately, Nezu believes it would be best for you all to not only be trained by the same heroes, as you need to widen your options for training techniques, especially considering many of you need to learn better techniques of distraction. Which is exactly why they’ve brought in-“

“Helloooo~!” The gym doors behind the students’ burst open, a female figure standing in the doorway with her hands on his hips and a bright, wide smile imprinted on her face.

“Oh no way!” Sero pointed excitedly towards the woman. “It’s Ms. Joke!”

“That’s right, future pro-heroes!” Ms. Joke began making her way over toward Aizawa, his glare on her intensifying with every step she got closer.

“Ohhh, now I get why he’s been so moody all morning,” Kiri whispered to Denki, the two sharing a knowing glance as they both grinned.

“Joke, why are you so late? You were supposed to be here an hour ago so we could discuss-“

“Oh cmon, Eraser, don’t be so serious! Just got caught up in a little morning traffic is all, plus spreading a few smiles along the way!” Joke grinned widely at the stoic man beside her. “Y’know, I’m always happy to spread a few more smiles as long as they’re coming from your cute little face-“

“That’s enough, Joke. Please get on with the lesson,” Aizawa rolled his eyes, refusing to look over at his extremely smiley counterpart.

“Whatever you say, future husband!”

“Not your future husband-“

“Okay guys! So who here knows about my quirk and can explain it properly to the rest of the class?” Joke asked, followed by multiple hands shooting up into the air, Deku’s even waving about excitedly (as this IS his favorite thing in the world to discuss).

“Hmm…how about…you! Mr. Grumpy in the front!” Joke exclaimed, pointing towards Bakugou. His arms were crossed in contempt, eyes glaring into Joke’s happy persona like his gaze alone could burn right through it.

“I didn’t even raise my hand,” Bakugou scowled at his higher-up, his stance never wavering. “How do you know I have any idea who you are?”

Ms. Joke smirked at Katsuki. “Y’know, teachers talk, Bakugou,” the mention of his name made his eyes grow a little wide in surprise, not expecting her to know him by name. “Sure, I know you from the sports festival, but I also know you from a little more than that. I know that you’re an angry little guy who doesn’t like not being at the top, and you find satisfaction in knowing more than your peers. I also know you’re very smart, and you’re well educated on the status of most- if not all- pro-heroes today. So, I’ll ask again; can you please explain to the class what my quirk is and how it functions?”

A silent but stressed pause fell over the group of teens. None of them had expected Joke to get so analytical on Bakugou like that, and it made them all feel a little fearful of what the “angry little guy” had to say next to her next. Bakugou’s glare on the woman deepened, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You can make people laugh uncontrollably, basically making it easier for you to fight them with one-on-one combat. And if you want me to be honest,” Bakugou’s face contorted into an ugly smirk, his arms crossing tighter as his body leaned in ever so slightly towards the hero. “-it’s one of the lamest quirks I’ve ever seen from a pro-hero.”

The air in the room was suddenly 10x thicker than before, almost making it harder for the students to catch a healthy breath. Ms. Joke only smiled fondly at the teen before her, walking closer to him until they were face-to-face.

“Y’know Bakugou…ever since I saw you perform at the sports festival, seeing you so red-faced and angry the whole time, I couldn’t help but wonder…” Joke’s hands went to her hips as Bakugou’s smirk slowly began to fade. “…does that guy ever really laugh?”

Suddenly and without warning, Bakugou began belting out one of the screechiest laughs anyone in that gym had ever heard in their lives. His arms came down to his stomach, harshly crushing his abdomen as if this would cease the laughs at any capacity. After a second, one of his hands shot towards his mouth, after he must’ve finally realized how embarrassingly girly his laugh must’ve sounded.

“Oh my god, no way! Bakugou can laugh!” Denki shouted, pointing at the hysterical boy in front of him. The rest of the class erupted into giggles, unable to contain it after hearing that contagious laugh leave that angry little man.

“SHUHUHUT UHUP! THIS ISN’T FAHAHAHAIR!” Bakugou’s screams were muffled behind his hand, but it did nothing to mask the laughs coming out of the boy.

“So, is anyone who didn’t know about my quirk starting to get how it works?” Joke giggled, Bakugou now crumbling to the floor on his knees without even meaning to. After another moment, his laughs began to die down to soft titters, before standing back up on shaky legs. To his dismay, his face was flushed an adorable shade of pink, and though everyone noticed it, no one dared to make a comment. His eyes made their way to Joke’s, an angry flash of light glaring from them.

“YOU MADE YOUR POINT YET, HAG?!” Bakugou shouted, his hands in a combat position by his sides, making small explosions not big enough to hurt a fly from his palms.

“Yes, actually. I think we’re ready to move on to the lesson at hand!”

“Man, I still feel sore after training today. Who knew Ms. Joke could be so ruthless at hand to hand combat!” Kirishima exclaimed, massaging his shoulder before turning back to his homework in his lap. He was sat crisscross on Bakugou’s bed, with said explosive teen leaning against the wall behind him also working on his homework.

“Whatever, Shitty-hair, it wasn’t that bad,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, earning him a shove on the knee from the red haired teen beside him.

“You’re just mad she had you laughing like a little girl in front of the class and you KNOW it!” Kiri chuckled.

“Hell yeah I’m mad, I’m fucking pissed! That hag had no right to do that, it made me look like a fucking idiot!” Bakugou grumbled throwing his head back and hitting the wall with a thud.

“Oh cmon, it wasn’t that bad, it was adorable! You should totally laugh like that more often, Bakubro. I know I’d sure love to hear it,” Kiri giggled, looking up at Bakugou, noting the small tinge of crimson painting his cheeks. He decided to be nice and not say anything, just like he had been at training.

“I’m not adorable, fuckface, and after that whole stunt I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again.”

“Bakubro, you know I can’t have that! I’ve gotta get my dose of Kats giggles every once and awhile, even if I have to pull em outta ya!” Kiri snickered, playfully shoving Bakugou in the shoulder. “In fact, I wanna hear you laugh right now! Cmon, gimme them giggles!”

Bakugou just looked up at Kirishima with the most blank expression he could possibly pull. Kirishima pouted, grabbing his and the other boy’s homework and moving it to the other side of the bed.

“Shitty-hair, I was working on that-!”

“Ah ah ah, Bakubro, you can get right back to your work as soon as I hear that laugh of yours that I heard earlier today!” Kirishima moved to sit cross-legged in front of Bakugou, giving him the dopiest smile he could pull in hopes to get the boy to giggle even a little.

Nothing.

“Kiri, I can’t just laugh on command. You’ve gotta do something funny, and you’re not a funny fucking person,” Bakugou’s expression remained partially blank, but Kirishima could spot that hint of mischievousness behind his eyes that got him all worked up and playful.

“Hmm…well, while I might disagree with you on that, it’s really hard to make you laugh. And trust me, I know that from experience,” Kirishima brought his hand up to scratch at his chin, looking Bakugou in the eyes experimentally. Then, a lightbulb went off over Kiri’s head.

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“Um…yes?”

“Are you ticklish?” Bakugou remained unwavered, but Kirishima could tell that question made the blood boy uneasy.

“No. Can I get back to my work now, Shitty-hair?”

“I already told you, we aren’t working until I hear you laugh. And, I don’t believe you.”

“Well you should, because I’m not.”

“Then can I?” Bakugou furrowed his brows confusedly at the question.

“Can you what?” Bakugou asked, his head leaning back in confusion.

“Can I tickle you? Y’know, since you aren’t ticklish.”

“No, that’s a stupid question, why would you tickle someone who isn’t-“ suddenly, Bakugou’s words halted as Kirishima grabbed the boy by his shoulders and turned him to push his back onto the bed. He sat down on the boys waist, pinning his hands beneath his knees, effectively trapping them. “WHAT THE HELL, SHITTY-HAIR?!”

“What? You said you aren’t ticklish, so this-“ Kirishima pulled Bakugou’s shirt up just above his lower ribs, before lightly and slowly tracing shapes into the boys sides. “-shouldn’t bother you at all.”

Bakugou’s entire body was as stiff as a board, his eyes shut tight and his mouth shut even tighter. His teeth grinder against one another and titter after titter left his lips against his mind’s wishes.

“Kiri- I- Stop- hehe-wait, just hold on a minutehehe-“ Bakugou giggled lightly, his hands struggling beneath Kiri’s knees. Then, Kirishima began digging his fingers into his ribs, and that’s when all hell broke loose for the explosive boy beneath him.

“WAHRHEIT! STOHOHOHOP! NOT FAIR! NOT FAHAHAHAIR!” Bakugou twisted and turned his body, but to absolutely no avail. Kirishima was massaging circles into Bakugou’s lower ribs, and the hysterical boy under him just couldn’t take it. “See? Now THIS is what I wanted to hear, Bakubro!” Kirishima moved his right hand down to skitter his nails on the boy's lower belly, resulting in high pitched squealy giggles to leave the Bakugou's lips. "Aw, you're so ticklish! I never expected this from you, it's so cute!" Kirishima cooed, only making Bakugou's laughs to grow more frantic and panicked.

"NOHOHO! NOHOHOT CUHUHUTE! NOT CUHUHUHU- AHAHAHA!" The boy's words trailed off into even more giggles as Kirishima brought his left hand down to sueeze at his hips. "NOHOHOT THEHERE! PLEASE! I CAHAHAHANT!"

"Aww, is this a bad spot, Bakugou?~ Is it really ticklish right there?~" Kirishima teased, now moving both hands down to sueeze and spider over his hips, which proved to be one of his worst spots so far.

"YEHEHES! TIHIHICKLES!" Bakugou screamed, his legs kicking out frantically behind Kiri as the red-head experimentally moved his fingers upwards and dipped into his bellybutton.

Bakugou let out the most high pitched scream Kirishima had ever heard.

"Oh my god, dude! Is it that bad here?" Kirishima used one nail to scratch at the inside walls of the navel, while another finger skittered around the entire button.

"BAHAHAHAD! SO BAHAHAD! PLEHEHEASE!" Bakugou whined, small prickles of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Alright, alright, i'll quit. But-" Kirishima halted momentarily, his nails resting on Bakugou's lower tummy without moving. Even with the lack of movement, Bakugou couldn't help the small giggles that left his lips, his childish giggle box already turned on it's head, making those unmoving nails feel like their skittering all over his tummy. "-first you have to admit that your laugh is adorable."

Bakugou's eyes widened. "What?! Are you crazy?! I'm not gonna say something like th-hehehe!" Kirishima slowly began skittering over his lower tummy again, his fingers slowly but surely getting closer and closer towards his navel.

"Bakugou, you are way too ticklish to just not comply with me right now. Just say what I want and I'll let you go," Kirishima smiled, bringing one hand up to skitter at his lower ribs, resulting in a surprise shriek and louder giggles from the boy. "Unless...you don't want me to stop?"

Bakugou's entire face turned beet red, and this time Kirishima just couldn't help himself. "Aw, Bakugou~! Y'know, you're way more of a blusher than you'd like to admit, but that's just another thing that makes you intesnely adorable. So say it! Say you're adorbale!"

"Nohoho! I cahaha- Kiri plehehease! Don't make mehehe!" Bakugou whined, twisting his body as if trying to escape the unstoppable fingers on his torso.

"Cmon Kats~ Just say those two magic little words~"

"Alrihihight!" Bakugou shut his eyes tight, turning his face as much as he could to try and smush his words into the mattress. "I'm...I'm adorablehehe..."

Kirishima finally halted his fingers and moved them off the boy's body, but still not getting up off of his waist. "See? Was it that hard?"

"Yes!" Bakugou whined, finally pulling his hands out from under Kirishima's legs after the red-head gave him some leverage to, shoving them into his face to mask the ever-growing blush and smile emerging.

"You're too cute for me, Kats. I don't think I can handle it," Kirishima smiled fondly at the boy underneath him, his heart swelling in his chest unbeknownst to that angry little giggly guy.

A/N: i hope u enjoyed!! i just love lee!bakugou so i rlly couldn’t help myself LMAOO he’s so cute wtf :(( anyways, if u enjoyed this pls consider liking and reblogging!! reblogging is much more appreciated as it helps spread my fic to more ppl :)) love u!! xx

#tickling #my fic #tickle community #mha #tickle fic #bnha #kiribaku #my hero academia #tickles #lee!bakugou #boku no hero academia #ticklish!bakugou #eijiro kirishima #katsuki bakugou #ms joke

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trishmishtree · 3 years ago

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Making a regency gown: mockup phase

^me, in my shift, stays, partially bodiced petticoat, and bodice mockup. There are so many fricking straps everywhere how did women in the early 19th century not combust in rage every time a strap slipped off their shoulder 😡😡😡

So now that the underpinnings for the regency gown have been made and adjusted and adjusted again (I tweaked the Bernhardt stays again, and at this point I think this is as close to the shelf effect as my tiny chest going to get), it's time to move on to the gown itself.

I don't have a regency sloper so I had to make one first, by roughly estimating the dimensions of the diamond-shaped back piece, then piecing a bunch of random scraps into the shape of a side-front thing with straps. The side-front pieces will eventually be cut into one piece for the left and right each; I just needed to figure out the shape of them first and I didn't want to do the "take a giant piece of fabric and cut chunks away and put darts in places" method that Nicole Rudolph used in her drafting tutorial. Idk, it worked well enough. The front pieces pin closed down center front and are going to be covered by the bib front (which I haven't made a mockup of yet because it's just going to be a rectangle cut on the bias with two darts to shape the bust). I've already traced my mockup onto paper, so my pattern is ready to go once I can psych myself up to cut into the actual fabric. Maybe I'll make one more mockup from my lining fabric first...

Oh, and my sleeve mockup was a fail because it wasn't puffy enough and I don't have enough mockup fabric at the moment to make another one. Not that it matters because I only have 2 yards of embroidered cotton gauze to make this gown. It's just barely enough to make the skirt and bodice, but definitely not enough for the puffy sleeves. And I'm pretty sure no more of this specific embroidered fabric exists anywhere, so I'll have to trawl the internet for the perfect shade of off-white cotton gauze. And then hand-embroider it myself 😬

(UPDATE: I managed to find the last scraps of a fabric that is the same design as my fabric but in a different colorway on Etsy. The hem is embroidered in hot pink, which is fine since I only need the off-white part.)

The inspiration gown I set off to reconstruct (but not really reconstruct) is this one, a circa 1810-1815 dress from the collection at the Maryland Center for History and Culture in Baltimore:

Photo courtesy of the Maryland Center for History and Culture

There's an article from their website that goes more into detail on the construction of the dress, with some close-up photos of the details. The original dress actually closes in the back with buttons, but I made the decision to turn my gown into an apron-front style. That would make my gown more complicated than the original, but I don't live with any other humans and it'll just make the gown easier to get into and out of without help. (My cat is very smart, but he does not have opposable thumbs.) I may be able to navigate the back-lacing spiral-laced stays by myself, but a back-closing dress with buttons that I absolutely cannot reach just crosses a line too far for me. (It's a good thing these stays are so comfy, since I Do Not have the energy or patience to unlace them once I get them on.)

The original also seems to have a drawstring in the front, according to some other photos I've seen of it, though what the drawstring does is a mystery to me because the bodice front does not look gathered at all, so I'm not putting a drawstring in my gown. The bodice front is cut on the bias, so maybe the string is there to keep it from warping? Idk, I'll probably just use twill tape to reinforce the front neckline.

Additionally, the original gown actually isn't embroidered at all. The little black dots and the detail on the hem are actually silver staples which have since tarnished. I actually prefer the darker dotted effect, so I'm opting to go with a cotton gauze with a navy blue floral embroidered hem. I'll add the dots by hand with french knots.

Also, the museum website doesn't actually give us a picture of the back of the gown (just close-up photos of the buttons, and even then you can't even tell how many buttons there are). I have no idea how high the back neckline should be, or how wide the diamond back is, or where the seams are placed, or how tightly gathered the skirt should be, so the back of my gown is going to be entirely conjectured anyway 😕

#sewing #hand sewing #tricia sews (kind of)#regency fashion #historical costuming #and don't talk to me about bridgerton. i haven't seen it and have no desire to

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vintagesimstress · 5 years ago

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IV. The most useful meshing tools in Blender

(Previous: IIIb. Method II: The sneaky way)

Only in my own, very subjective opinion, of course. I bet many other creators would disagree with me on this selection, but those are the tools I use almost every time when I mesh something new.

This part is going to look a bit different that the previous ones: it won't be a step-by-step guide, but rather a short explanation of different options (some of which I already partially covered) and their possible usefulness, so that you could just implement whichever you want in your own projects.

1. Snap to symmetry

You can find this option in that dropdown (dropup?) menu hidden under the 'Mesh' button, in the bottom bar. It does just what it says on the tin: if a vertex on the left side on your mesh has it's exact equivalent on the right side (so, let's say, vertex A has x = 20, and vertex B has x = -20, and y and z are the same), Blender will recognise them as mirrored.

Make sure to use this option only on parts which really are symetrical! Otherwise you might end up with some of your vertices being symmetrised and others not, and then it'll all become a hot mess. So, in case of our dress, you shouldn't use it on the skirt, but it's perfectly safe to use it on the upper body parts, which are, by default, completely symmetrical – even if Blender doesn't necessarily know it yet. Of course, that applies only if you used the same top as me – I can't speak for others!

2. X mirror

A follow-up to the whole symmetrising process. You can find that option in the toolbar on the left (T), in the 'Options' tab. Just tick it. And now select any vertex of your symmetrised top and move it wildly around. You'll notice that the same happens on the other side of the mesh as well.

3. Proportional editing

I know, I know, we've already used it so many times...! But proportional editing is pure magic and I think it deserves another mention. Depending on the falloff type, you can use it to quickly create a variety of different shapes. Just as a reminder: you turn it on by pressing either O (for all vertices) or alt+O (only for connected vertices) and then select the falloff type in that bottom bar. By default it's set to 'Smooth', which is probably the most universal option. You can make a bigger or smaller area affected by your edits by moving the mouse scroll – by default it's set to VERY big, so probably your whole mesh will be moving. Don't panic and just scroll until you see a white circle – that's exactly the 'affected area'.

Why mention it now? Because combined with the 2 previous tools it's a perfect way to make those 1890s puffs! Let's take a look at it, shall we?

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

Practical Application Corner

I think by now I can admit it: the dress I'm trying to make here with you is this 1897 wedding dress:

As you can see, the dress has some shoulder-puffs: moderate in volume and rather roundish, so they shouldn't be hard to make. I already symmetrised the mesh, turned on the x mirror and proportional editing. I'll just change the falloff type to 'Sphere' and I'm ready to go.

Now I'll simply select a vertex on one of the shoulders and move it up. It's probably the best to do it while looking at the mesh from the front (num 1) - that'll make it easier to see what's going on.

Doesn't look bad, but I'm aware that the puff is still very 2D. You can see it very well if you switch to top view (num 7). To solve this problem, I'll select two vertices this time, one on the front of the puff and another on the back, and scale them – still with all the same options. Much better!

If you want to, you can spend some more time fine tuning your puff. Depending on how much you enlarged it, you might also want to select both puffs, turn triangles into quads (alt+j), then subdivide it smooth (W, select from the dropdown menu) and change to tris again (ctrl+t). However, it might be quite difficult to just 'select your puff' now, so maybe wait with it till the next part, where I'll talk about uv maps...? That'd make stuff a lot easier.

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4. Dissolving

That's a very simple and very useful tool, which lets you just dissolve – but not delete – vertices, edges or faces. What it means practically is that if you use it instead of deleting, you won't get a hole in your mesh. Lets say you subdivided your puffs, triangulated them again and discovered some weird lines here and there...

When you switch to edit mode, you immediately see that it's because some of your new vertices aren't proprely connected. At the same time you see that if you let Blender do it automatically, you'll be left with very unpleasant, narrow triangles. It'd be better to get rid of those diagonal lines which I marked in red.

And how do you do it? Very simply: select them and either press x (or delete) and select 'dissolve edges' from the dropdown menu, or – while in edge select mode - simply press ctrl+x.

And how do you change them into sensible triangles? Well, you either triangulate them automatically (ctrl+t), hoping that Blender will be reasonable... Or you can use another simple yet super useful tool.

5. Knife

You activate it by pressing k. It's just what it sounds like: a tool which lets you cut your mesh in any way you want. You can use it to manually cut proper triangles (which I'm going to do right now), but also for a variety of other things. Cool feature: it gently snaps to existing vertices, so if you want to connect vertex A and vertex B, you can do it without much struggle. Press enter when you're done.

But why would you want to use it for anything else than correcting triangles? Why would you cut some random shapes in your mesh? Well, because then you could use another cool tool.

6. Extruding

The principle is very simple. You select any vertices, edges or faces you want and then press e – and suddenly new vertices, edges or faces appear. You can freely move them around, or – which is almost always a better idea – right after that 'e' you can press s to scale them, or x/y/z, to limit the movement to only one axis. You used it while making the skirt and way earlier, when you were meshing a cup. But extruding isn't limited only to this; it's also a perfect way to make 3D collars, belts, cuffs, trims, random deco – almost anything, actually.

7. Flip direction

An interesting peculiarity of Blender meshes – no idea how other software deals with it – is that meshes have only one side. In other words, if you extrude something from your main mesh – let's say, I don't know... Wings? - they will be visible from side A, but if you look from the opposite side, it'll be as if they weren't there at all. Perfectly invisible. That's why in case of such parts you have to duplicate them and then flip direction of that copy, to get the texture on both sides.

Select the part you want to duplicate. Chances are the texture is not even all on one side; in such case press ctrl+n or open the left bar (T) and, in the Shading/UV tab, choose 'Recalculate'. Now press shift+d to duplicate, press enter immediately, and from the same tab select 'Flip Direction'. Your mesh should be double-sided now.

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

Practical Application Corner

I want to make that weirdly shaped deco piece my dress is supposed to have on the front. I dissolved some edges and recut them, to get a pretty smooth curve, and now I'm going to extrude it. Whoops, I almost forgot to turn off the X mirror!

So I press e and, immediately afterwards, y, to extrude that part to the front.

As expected, the extruded part became a mess. I'll switch to face select, select all the faces and then hit 'Recalculate'.

And here comes the surprise: I won't duplicate it and flip direction immediately. First I'd like to adjust it, so that it sits perfectly; some subdividing, some proportional editing, moving vertices around to get a natural, smooth look. Creating the other side is usually the very last thing I do, just before taking in-game screenshots and posting my CC. Single vertices are easier to deal with, and every piece requires tons of corrections and small adjustments, long after you first think it's already done.

In any case, in some distant future, when I'm sure that this... Frill? What even is this? ...works properly, I'll select those faces again, press shift+d, enter, and then flip direction. Let's just see how it'd look now...

The frill is double-sided. Victory!

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

8. Knife project

My absolute favourite tool ever, which I use in almost every second mesh. Similar to knife, but way more sophisticated. It lets you project a shape of one object on another one, cutting it into the mesh. Let me explain...

So, let's say your dress is supposed to have a round collar. You could dissolve some edges, make new ones and move already existing vertices, hoping to get that perfect, round shape – but for reasons which we'll discuss next time (uv-1) I would advise against it. So what's the alternative?

Go into object mode and create a new circle (shift+a). Move it around, rotate it, scale it etc. - do whatever you have to to position it exactly in the place where you want your mesh to be cut. Watch out: your viewpoint matters! Knife project is cool, but a bit dumb and will just cut through the first layer it sees on its way. From my experience, it's the best to make two cuts: one exactly from the front, the other from the back. So press num 1 and put the circle (which you can also make into a half-circle btw, that might be easier) in the right place. Let's say we want it here...

Now, go back to object mode. Click the cut called 'Circle' and then, while holding shift, your mesh: s4studio_mesh_1. Go to edit mode. You'll see that you're back to your base mesh, but the red half-circle is still floating in the air right before it.

Open that sidebar on the left (T), go to the 'Tools' tab and click 'Knife Project'. Now, before you do anything, go to back view (ctrl+ num 1) and click 'Knife Project' again. Hide the circle by closing that little eye on the right (or just right-click it and choose ‘delete’, if you’re sure you won’t need it anymore) and admire your newly cut collar.

What about all the new vertices? There's so many of them, how to clean them? Again talking from my own experience: merging (alt+m) is safe only in case of vertices which are located very close to each other. Also, if you merge after using knife, always merge at center. However, the rule of the thumb is: it's always better to dissolve and cut new edges than move the existing vertices. Uv-1 can be nasty and trust me, you don't want to deal with it more than necessary. Be extra careful if you're merging or moving anything in the breast area! In there every tiniest mistake is immediately visible.

9. Edge split modifier

The last point on the list is not really a tool, but a modifier. Maybe you remember how Blender Guru was using something called 'Subdivision Surface Modifier' in his tutorial? The one we're going to use can be found in exactly the same place. Go to the little wrench on the right, click 'Add Modifier' and select 'Edge Split' from that menu.

Untick the 'Edge Angle' option, leaving only 'Sharp Edges' selected.

Why would you want your edges to be split in the first place? Because Blender by default smoothes any edges in your mesh. Normally it's a very welcome feature, but sometimes can be annoying. For example, if you 'close' your dress at the bottom – select the lowest row of vertices, extrude and scale them and then merge at center – the bottom edge of your dress will get slightly curved, creating an ugly, dark line:

There are two ways to fix it: either you select that lowest line, press ctrl+e and click 'Edge Split'... Or you choose, from the same list, 'Mark Sharp' and leave the actual splitting to the modifier. The immediate visual result will be the same; however, by only marking edges as sharp you don't actually split them yet, which makes it way easier in case of any future corrections. You don't have to remember to select each vertex twice, as they're not doubled. You can select all and remove doubles, and your edges still will stay marked as sharp. It's super useful and I wish I knew of its existence earlier – it would have saved me SO much work!

Just as a side note: obviously, those closing lines of skirts or sleeves aren't the only places you might want to mark as sharp. The same goes for anything that's layered, so e.g. edges between a shirt and a jacket, edges around a necktie, around a belt etc. If you're not sure what you should mark and what not, just take a close look at your mesh in solid shading. Any weird shadows visible? Mark the edges. The problem should disappear.

And you know what's the best? Even when you apply the modifier – e.g. because you want to be able to quickly select only a certain, separated part of your mesh (with L) – the edges still stay marked as sharp! So you can just do your corrections, select all and remove doubles, and then add the Edge split modifier again. It's so quick and simple.

By the way, you don't even have to click apply for the modifier to work. Even if it's left unapplied, S4S will still recognise it and import your mesh with all the sharp edges being split. Magic!

*** *** ***

I'm sorry it got so long, but I think I really managed to cover every important aspect of meshing. You know all my secrets now :P. Unfortunately, meshing is only a small part of CC making, so there are still many things we'll have to discuss – but hopefully it's somehow comforting to you that at least that part is over. I hope I helped you feel more confident in Blender and saved you some meshing struggles! I know for a fact that not knowing the majority of those things was the reason why meshing my first dress took me two months ;].

Let me know if anything isn't clear and stay tuned! We'll finally talk about uv maps next time.

(Next: V. Adding missing body parts / Frankenmeshing / Finishing touches)

#tutorial #meshing #Blender #Blender 2.79 #playtested on hubs

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years ago

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Thranduil ~ My Heart

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by @ifitaketwomoresteps

Based on an imagine found here by @imaginexhobbit

Words: 2,018

Warnings: Female Reader, fluff, angst, secret relationship, family involvement

Thranduil still wasn't sure what it was, he still wasn't sure how this had happened, but he couldn't deny how he felt about you. He still remembered when word reached him, of Thrain having taken another young dwarf under his wing, one that was to be treated as equally as his sons and daughter.

There were many rumours surrounding what had happened, but Thranduil had been stunned when he saw you.

You held yourself as tall and proud as any Durin, as if the blood actually did course through your veins. Standing next to Dis, you greeted him and other guests as if this was something that you'd been doing all your life. Thranduil couldn't put his finger on it, but he was enamoured from the moment he saw you.

All throughout his first meeting, his eyes hardly left you. He knew he shouldn't have, he knew that it was drawing attention, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

It was ridiculous of course, the idea of falling in love with a dwarf. It was almost taboo.

But fall he did, and it seemed that you did too.

A letter reached him, and he couldn't help but stare at the words for a long time.

Meet me at the edge of Laketown, where the river flows under the moonlight. Three days from now, I will be there. If you do not come, I will still have my answer.

Thranduil spent hours agonising over his decision. He knew what he wanted, but he also knew that this would affect his people, that this could possibly cause future problems.

But he had to know. He had to know what this truly was.

He stared at the meeting spot for a long time, watching you as you looked over the lake, bathed in moonlight, his heart in his throat. You were a sight to behold, and for the first time, he did not doubt his decision to come.

You turned and softly smiled at him as you heard him approach. “I was starting to fear the worst.”

Thranduil returns the smile and shakes his head. “I could hardly give you an answer with silence, this is far more enlightening.”

“Oh?” You chuckled. “Does that mean I should still be in fear of how this will go?”

He shakes his head, stepping before you and holding your gaze. “No, it does not. I wish to be here Y/N, and I wish to be with you. If you do not feel the same, then please, tell me now.”

“Thranduil,” His name sounded so strange yet so familiar on your lips. “If I did not wish you here, if I did not wish to seek your company, I would not have asked.”

It was the start of something wonderful between the two of you. Secretive, but wonderful. Kisses were stolen in the brief meetings you dared to have, soft laughter shared in soft moments. You both knew that it was against the customs of your people, but in the time that you got to spend with each other, nothing else mattered.

It was only a matter of time before it all went wrong.

You were both aware of the small rumours circulating, but you’d both chosen to ignore them, simply seeming surprised if it was ever raised to you. You both thought that this was best method to keep having it go unnoticed for as long as possible.

But when word reached your grandfather, it was only a matter of time before it reached your father.

He was furious, ignoring your denial, and ordered for whatever was going on between you and Thranduil to stop. Thrain refused to look at you as he said that such a thing was practically unheard of, and that it was a major dishonour for you and your family if was true, leaving you feeling very alone when he left.

Dis and Frerin were understanding, but you understood when Thorin had to take Thrain’s side, and with their help, you managed to set up a final meeting with Thranduil.

Thranduil had known as soon as he saw you that something had happened, and whatever was coming, was going to be nothing good. He held you close as you told him, but refusing for tears to come, your pride barely holding you together.

“There is a way we can do this without having to stop seeing each other,” He said calmly, earning your worried but hopeful gaze. “Although, I can’t imagine that it will go down too well, and it will take time for things to settle again. Perhaps once that is the case, we can do this properly.”

You stared at him. “We both know that my father will not allow such a thing.”

He presses your lips lightly to yours, smiling softly. “Then I will have to convince him. For now though, one thing at a time. We will make something public, showing just how ridiculous the rumours are.”

“Thranduil,” You sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Just trust me.” He kissed your forehead. “Play along. It has to be convincing.”

For the last time in a long time, you just stood in silence, holding each other, thinking about what was to come, and if this plan would work.

Thranduil led the way as he said he would, meeting with Thrain and Thror in something unrelated, and it was only as the meeting began to conclude, that he raised the issue.

“There are certain rumours that I’ve heard,” He said lightly, his eyes flicking between the two dwarves, even as Thorin glanced at you from across the table. “That I have been seeing a certain princess behind your backs. I wish to state, with utmost respect, that these are not true.”

Thror nods, as if that was to be the end of it, but Thrain bristled, as Thranduil knew that he would, and pushed it further. “I have more than a few reliable sources stating to the contrary.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “I am certain that you are not intending to call me a liar, however, you have my word that I have not been doing such a thing. Not only would be uncustomary for both our peoples, but Y/N is not exactly my type.”

You shifted uncomfortably, knowing what his plan was, but it didn’t make the lies any easier to hear.

Thrain bristled further. “If you are trying to insult us Thranduil, then you are succeeding. Both claiming that we are foolish to believe you and that you believe my daughter is not good enough for you.”

“I am simply stating the truth,” Thranduil said with a small shrug. “I have not been seeing Princess Y/N behind your backs, and, not only do I prefer elvish women, but Y/N is not exactly up to my height standards.”

You bristled at this, folding your arms across the table and glaring at him. “Don't call me short you arsehole.”

His gaze went to you and he did well to hide his amusement. “My apologies princess, but surely you have been suffering at the cause of this rumour as well?”

“Yes, and they won’t take my word for it either,” You said, forcing yourself to look away and glare at Thrain, so you didn’t blow the whole thing. “Which is just as insulting as you.”

Thrain’s face tinged with red and he huffed. “If that is the case, then you are calling your brother a liar as well.”

Your gaze went to Thorin, who avoided your eyes. This was not something that you’d been expecting, and now it meant that you had to tread extra carefully. “Clearly whatever Thorin saw, he was mistaken.”

“I’m sure that there are a lot of dwarves that look like the princess,” Thranduil said lightly, although there was no missing the slight tension in his shoulders. “And I have spoken to my fair share, including the princess herself. Perhaps I should just avoid conversation in the future.”

Thrain’s eyes flashed. “That’s the problem right there, Thranduil, you were not talking.”

A silence fell in the room even as you felt your face practically ignite.

“It’s not like I wanted to see anything,” Thorin grumbled low, avoiding looking up, his face turning a darker shade of red. “But when it was insisted upon that I follow you, when the rumour first started going around.”

You stared at Thorin for a long moment before your glare landed on Thrain. “You had him spying on me? Did you really think that that was most appropriate course of action?”

“I did what I had to do to protect my family.” Thrain said firmly. “Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

“Then trust me with my own decisions,” You growled, fury bubbling away in your stomach. “I don’t see you spying on the others and judging who they see.”

“Because I can clearly trust them!” Thrain said, standing, his hands slamming on the table. “I can trust them to keep this bloodline within these halls!”

You bit your tongue, hard, knowing that if you spoke, you would regret the words forever. Instead, you got to your feet and stormed from the room, no matter how much Thrain called after you.

You locked yourself in your room and finally let the emotions, one you held so carefully onto you, go. It all hurt, so much, and you wished that something, anything, in that moment would come and take you away so you could just forget it all.

It seemed like hours passed before there was a gentle knock on your door, and despite it all, you went and opened it.

Thorin stood there and you almost slammed the door in his face, but he caught it quickly. “Y/N, wait, please.”

You glared at him and he sighed as he waited.

“I am sorry,” He said quietly, holding your gaze. “It was not my intention for this to happen, and it was quite by accident that Father found out at all. Perhaps going behind his back was not the best idea, but I can understand why you did so.” Thorin quickly looked down either side of the hall, before slipping a folded note out from his pocket.

“I hope this helps, whatever happens,” He said, waiting for you to take it. “And should…the worse happen, then I will help where I can.”

You stared at him and slowly took the note, thumbing it open enough to see Thranduil’s writing, before looking back at him. “Thank you Thorin. I’m not sure I can forgive you yet, but I am glad that you are not just shutting me down.”

Thorin gives a small bow. “I can understand that, my sister, and for what it is worth, Thranduil seems an honourable man, and you seem happy with him. That is all I could ever wish for you.”

He bows again and leaves, leaving you staring after him for a long moment until you quietly close and lock your door again.

The note suddenly felt heavy in your hands and you stared at it for a long moment before you willed yourself to open it.

My heart, I am sorry for how today went, it was not and never was my intention to upset you. For now, things are tenuous with your father and may take some time to recover, and I fear that we will not be able to see each other within that time, no matter how clever and careful we may be. You must be patient.

Know that this is not the end, I will find a way out of this for us. Should you ever have need of me, wait at the edge of Laketown, where the river flows under the moonlight. I shall have those I trust watch there for you.

Until we see each other again, my heart.

Yours forever,

Thranduil

“What if I need you now?” You asked to your room, leaning back against your door, a million questions racing through your mind.

This was not meant to be how this happened.

#1300 followers challenge #round 2 #the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x female reader #thranduil x reader

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aricazorel · 3 years ago

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OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @enasallavellan Thank You! This was really fun!

Answering for my Dragon Age: Inquisition OC from my ongoing fanfic series on AO3.

(This got a little long so more below the cut)

THE BASICS:

Character’s name:

Anyssa McBride

Role in story:

Inquisition Historian from Earth (MGIT story; Anchor series on AO3)

Physical description:

5ft 6in, wavy honey blonde hair that currently reaches midway down her back (on Earth it was roughly shoulder length, ice blue eyes

Age:

She is 26 when she arrives in Thedas and currently is 29 in my story. (She will be 30 shortly after the events set in Trespasser)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

I took two different tests when I created Anyssa and both labeled her as ‘ENFJ’—the giver or mentor. (I would argue that while she tested as an extrovert she does appreciate introvertedness and the current situation dictates which she chooses to be)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Being used and taken for granted

Inner motivation:

To help others and support them, hoping to see them happy

Kryptonite:

Having her self-doubts realized

What is their misbelief about the world?

Anyssa believes that everyone wants help and they just do not know how to ask for it. Unfortunately she has found out that some people just don’t want help no matter how sincere you are.

Lesson they need to learn:

She needs to learn to trust herself. Those around her know of her past on Earth and have made efforts to help her learn that. But no matter what, she still struggles with it, sometimes to the point of questioning whether she deserves the life she now has.

What is the best thing in their life?

A group of people who love and care for her. In other words, Friends

What is the worst thing in their life?

A history on Earth of those that were supposed to care for her, using her instead…and abuse. After her parents died in a car crash during her junior in high school, she went to live with her aunt and uncle who proceeded to steal the money her parents had left her for college. Later she entered into a relationship with a seemingly charming man named Bryan who turned out to be emotionally and physically abusive towards her. After two years she worked up the courage to attempt to leave. After multiple tries, she finally succeeded only to end up in Thedas.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Taking advantage of others, being cruel/mean to others, judging other without taking into consideration what they have been through

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Writing stories based on those around her, sharing her knowledge with people who appreciate it, learning about the cultures and people around her, horseback riding, rock climbing, exploring the tunnels under Skyhold

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

The people she had come to know as friends in Thedas. They have become her ‘found’ family—something she thought to never have again. The last person to make her feel that way is Cullen. He always knows the right thing to say or the right thing to do to let her know she is loved.

Top three things they value most in life?

Acceptance by others, support of others, friendship

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

No personal items from Earth made it through the rift to Thedas with Anyssa. What she has come to cherish most is the small items her friends have given her in an effort to make she feel at home. Most notably is the Cullen’s coin she wears around her neck and a stuffed dragon named Puff he gave her before they ever began their relationship.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

For her normal duties as historian, she wears simple dresses common to Ferelden fashion as well as blouses and skirts. For more formal affaires she wears one the many dresses Vivienne had made for her that incorporates Orlesian, Fereldan, and Free Marcher styles. For when she explores the caverns below Skyhold or travels away from the keep, she prefers typical traveling clothes and pants over skirts.

Most of her clothes are shades of light blue which Cullen said matches her eyes. She also wears purple in various shades being as it is her favorite color.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

Nyssa and Nys. Most of her friends have called her Nyssa at some point in her life. Nys is only used by Cullen. He has also been known to use the endearment “sweetling” after they began their relationship.

What is their method of manipulation?

Anyssa isn’t known for manipulating anyone out right. Most of the time, she will rephrase an argument point to make the other party believe they are making a choice freely. This is not something she employs with people she is friends with or allied with. It a trick she holds in reserve when dealing with unreasonable nobles, especially when she has been called on to aid Josephine.

However, she is not above manipulating Cullen to either ensure he does not take on too much or because she would like some private time with him. A bright smile and repeatedly saying ‘please’ usually works. The first time Cullen realized he could not say no to her was when she asked to see a real dragon. In the end, he gifted her a stuffed dragon she named Puff and then took her to Crestwood to see the dragon there (from a safe distance of course.)

Describe their daily routine.

Anyssa’s routine various from day to day depending on the work load and what other duties she’s been tasked with. Normally, she holds any meetings in the morning and she makes time to watch the sparring ring from the battlements (especially if Cullen is participating). After that she may conduct any research she can on historical items the Inquisition has acquired and writes any correspondence to allies that might have knowledge she does not. She frequently checks in with Dagna in the Undercroft and reports the archanist’s progress to those interested. (Most people tend to shy away from Dagna but Anyssa finds her fascinating and funny.) She often finds Cullen for lunch and reminds him to eat. Her afternoons might involve cataloging artfifacts and tomes recovered in the hopes of returning them to their proper owners. If time allows, she can be found exploring and mapping the caverns and tunnels below Skyhold much to Cullen’s dismay. Throughout her day though, Anyssa has learned to work in time for her friends as well as for herself (though it has been a struggle in learning to do so)

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

There a several different answers to this. One is Sera. Both Anyssa and the Red Jenny enjoy pranks. Frequently Anyssa may provide the idea or inspiration while Sera carries out the actual pranks itself.

Horseback riding alone or with Cullen.

Playing Wicked Grace with Varric and/or Bull, Blackwall, and the Chargers. (Drinking and storytelling maybe involved.)

Reading a book with Cullen.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Overall, Anyssa is exceedingly happy with her life in Thedas. It is something she never thought to have again after her parents death and the abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend. She had friends, a family, a career, someone to love her (whom she loves with all her heart), and a new purpose in life. If there was one thing that she would be dissatisfied with, it would be the knowledge that despite all the good the Inquisition did there will still be people who still cling to the old ways. In other words, she wishes that everyone could find the acceptance and support she has found but knows that the old ways are easier for some to hold onto instead of embracing change.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Finally realizing that she did nothing wrong and it was not her fault that anyone left her or treated her poorly. Those were decisions made by others and she is not responsible for that. Cullen has aided her greatly in making progress with this but it is a struggle she will always have. But then again she has found a support network and love, so in the end she is already happy/content.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

This is something Anyssa initially struggled with. Cullen was the first to admit he loved her and it took seven months before she could say it back. After that, they talked circles around making concrete plans about their future. Finally, they decided to just make the plans as they went (making a list of things they wanted.) When Cullen decided to start a Templar sanctuary after retirement, that solidified things. Now all that remains to be done is see the Inquisition through to the end and then begin their future.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Her past relationship colored how she reacted to Cullen’s affections and made her question whether she could trust his words. (she learned to trust his actions first and then his words)

Haven and Skyhold were the places she first felt welcomed in Thedas, like she had a real home again.

She questioned whether she could be lead historian in a world she knew nothing of, questioning even the skills she had learned on Earth.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

Anyssa has decided to focus on what she can do in the present and prepare for the future she wants. She has begun making plans for how to transfer her skills to a slightly different career path aft her the conclusion of the Inquisition and has told Cullen she will support his dream of a Templar sanctuary while pursuing her own path. To ensure that happens, she will more than likely rely on Cullen for reminders to believe in herself and trust that she knows what she is doing. In the end, it all comes down to trust for Anyssa and her Commander is the one she trusts the most.

Tagging @commanderadorkable, @shadoedseptmber, @raflesia65, @noire-pandora and anyone else who would like to play! No pressure, just fun!

#oc questions #dragon age #anyssa mcbride #anchor

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