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toomanythoughts2 · 4 months ago

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How Dethklok Met: A Timeline Theory

I recently got an anonymous Ask asking, "What are your thoughts – in what order did Dethklok members join the band ? or how did they meet ?"

Originally, I was going to answer the question in that Ask but, my response became much larger than intended. So, naturally, I needed to make a separate post explaining my theory on their timeline, because I do have one!

Just a disclaimer, you don't have to agree with this theory about ages, the order they met, or how they met. This is not meant to discredit anyone's personal HCs. A lot of this is based on small details in the show, interviews, special features, and my own deductive research. Your own HCs on their ages, the order they met, or how they met is completely valid.

As always, longer analysis is under the cut.

What Do We know?

First, lets compile what we do know about the band to establish from groundwork.

Ages: Dethkloks canon age order, answered by Brendon in a AMA, is (oldest to youngest), Pickles, Murderface, Nathan & Skwisgaar, Toki. x

Pickles was "no older than 16" when he started Snakes N' Barrels and the band lasted from the 80's to the 90's. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

We have the start and finish of the order of the band forming, Nathan and Toki.

Skwisgaar was already a well known guitar player before Dethklok, playing in multiple other metal bands. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

Murderface has been to Pickles childhood home to have dinner with him and his parents. (DVD Special. Food - Interview.)

Pickles left Snakes N' Barrels looking for "heavier music" and there is no mention of a band between Snakes N' Barrels and Dethklok. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

We do not know the age of Magnus.

From this list, I can start to build a timeline, starting from Pickles.

Ages

Before we can talk about how they all met, we need to look at their possible ages. No one in the show has a confirmed age, we only know ranges and a hierarchy. However, using the information we got from Brendon and the episode "Snakes N' Barrels", I can craft a rough timeline for their ages.

Disclaimer: These ages are subjective and fluid. There is a lot of wiggle room. For the sake of the timeline, I will be basing my years on the year that Metalocalypse was first aired, which is 2006. The first episode of Metalocalypse states that the band had been together for 10 years, which would mean they got together in 1996.

1996 - Band formed

2006 - First episode aired

Pickles

Because Pickles has the most information about him, we will start from him and using his ages to guesstimate the others.

We know that Pickles was 16 (Or no older than 16) when he made Snakes N' Barrels. SNB formed in the 80's and died off somewhere in the 90's. This would put Pickles' birthday year somewhere in the 60's. If we believe that Pickles was 16 in 1980 (The start of SNB), that makes his birthday year 1964.

He leaves Snakes N' Barrels looking for heavier music. Pickles is 26 when he leaves (1990, the end of SNB), and 32 when we know he is in Dethklok (1996). (Pickles could have been between 26 to 32 when he first joined, but we know for sure that he was in the band by the time Dethklok is signed and Toki arrives.) Which would make him 42 by the time the show start in 2006, 10 years later. [Honestly makes Seth's situation even worse] This also makes a little bit of sense as to why Pickles' shaved off his goatee between Snake' N' Barrels and Dethklok. It's possibly to look younger since he was starting a band with people significantly younger than him and felt self conscious.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42.

Nathan

In, "Go Forth and Die", we find out that Nathan did not graduate high school. However, in an in-character interview, Nathan has been in bands since high school and has been looking for a specific band since childhood x.

In, "Dethcamp", we see a younger Nathan who has a similar physical appearance to his football picture in "Go Forth and Die". His hair, in the flashback of "Dethcamp" and "Renovationklok" is not as long as we know it to be during present day episodes.

Typical ages for high school kids in America is 14 - 18. (Granted, while I do believe that Nathan probably had extra help in school or could have possibly been held back for his speech, there's nothing to indicate that he was, so I'm assuming that he went through the school system normally.)

In "Go Forth and Die", Nathan wants to get his degree, and all he has to do is take the G.E.D. test. Getting a G.E.D is a little more complicated though than just taking a test. It does require people to take classes then take 4 separate tests in 4 subject matters. (Though, he could have paid to compile them into one test.) For Nathan to only need to take the test(s), says just how far in high school he did get. I would say probably senior year. Maybe junior year, but definitely senior year, for sure. (Note: Floridians can drop out of the high school at age 16 legally, with a parent signature. But, with Nathan's dad being a military man, he probably kept Nathan in school until Nathan turned into a legal adult and couldn't stop him.)

Dropping out in senior year would make Nathan either 17 or 18 when he dropped out and started looking for bandmembers to join Dethklok. Time passed because his hair grew from his ears to the middle of his pecs, going off his football picture in "Go Forth and Die".

Going off of Pickles' departure in the 90's (1990), that gives us 6 years to work with. Because of his hair length, I would say that it took a few years to gather everyone.

Lets go off the idea that Nathan is 18 when he drops out of high school in 1990. He's got short hair and a dream to start a band. Pickles is just then leaving Snakes N' Barrels to find heavier music. Nathan could have been anywhere between 18 to 23 when he met Pickles. This would give him enough time for his hair to grow out from the top of his ears to the middle of his pec, while also maintaining his high school jock physique. He would be 23 in 1996, when the band officially starts. Then in 2006, he would be 33.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

Skwisgaar

Skwisgaar is the same age as Nathan, so he would also be 23 in 1996 and 33 in 2006. Skwisgaar's hair growth also makes sense. In "Fatherklok", Skwisgaar rocked a bob that touched the back of his head, which is much longer than Nathan's short cropped hair. (As long as Skwisgaar did not cut his hair drastically since "Fatherklok", the hair growth theory is pretty accurate. Skwisgaar is presenting younger than a high schooler as well, so take this with a grain of salt.)

So, by the time he joined Dethklok, his hair would have been the right length that we normally see it in the show.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

Murderface

Murderface is going to be tricky as we have almost nothing to back up his age, other than a range. What we do know is that he's younger than Pickles (32 in 1996) but older than Nathan and Skwisgaar (23 in 1996) That's a 8 year gap we can play with. So Murderface could be 31 to 24 when he first joins Dethklok.

However! We do have the Dethcomics for possible guidance. (I know they aren't canon, but this is all I got.)

Looking at Murderface's appearance in his flashbacks in high school in the comics and looking at the flashback from "Dethcamp" and "Renovationklok", Murderface looks very similar. A 31 year old isn't going to look like an 18 year old. So, I don't believe he is 31 or 30. He's also much thinner, in the face and body. 24 feels too close to Nathan and Skwisgaar's ages, and if he was that close, I think Brendon would have just put all three of them together. So that leaves 29 to 25. I think, because he does still look so similar to his high school years, that he is probably 26. (Honestly, it's really up to whatever you prefer, but I think this age makes the most sense.) So that makes Murderface 26 in 1996, and 36 in 2006.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

Toki

Toki is a minor or an older teen when he joins Dethklok, we know this because of Doomstar. Specifically, if we look at "I Believe. when Toki is getting dressed and bathed by the klokateers, we see his hair grow from his bob to as long as Skwisgaar's.

It's important to note that when we see the clip of Toki holding the guitar to his parents, the back of his hair is above his shoulders and showing a good portion of his neck. When we see the back of his head during the flashback of "The Duel", his neck is fully covered, and his hair sometimes rests on his shoulders.

Also note that the clip of him with his parents is not how we see him at the audition. He still has his child-like qualities that we see in him during "Dethzazz", "Dethdad", and "Dethkids".

The average boy hits his growth spurts around 12 to 15. Using this evidence, Toki was possibly kicked out of the house before he hit his growth spurt (puberty) and hit it sometime while being homeless. So he's at least over 15 before he meets Dethklok. However, Toki's facial structure changed from the kid to the teenager versions of himself, but they do not change from teenager to adult versions of him.

This is coming from my own experience so just trust me on this. Toki's hair rests just above the curvature of his lower back. I once had 2 feet of hair from shoulder to the bottom of my back, the top of my butt. Toki's hair is probably less than 2 feet. I'd say about a foot and a half. On average, hair grows 6 inches per year. Meaning, that Toki's hair would have taken about three years to get that long.

During that time, at no point does anything about his facial structure, height, or other physical trait, other than his hair, change. Seeing how Toki's height and his facial structure do not change, he is most likely done with puberty by the time he meets Dethklok, which ends at 16 to 18 in boys. Also important is that Toki refers to himself as a "kid" in "I Believe". I would not say a 18 year old is still referring to himself as a "kid".

Using this evidence, Toki is 16 to 18 when he meets Dethklok. At this point, it's up to preference what age he should be at, however, I like younger Toki. So I think Toki is 16 when he first meets the band in 1996, thus making him 26 in 2006.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1980~ - Toki is born

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

Between 1992~ to 1995~ - Toki is kicked out from possible ages of 12 to 15

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

1996 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 16 (Could have been between 16 to 18)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

2006 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 26

Magnus

Magnus is a mystery. I believe solely that he is older than Pickles simply because he says this to Pickles during the flashback.

"Wait. What are you playing? Stop playing! Stop playing! That's not the drum pattern. I didn't tell you to make it your own, asshole. Now, why don't you all shut the fuck up and listen to me. And let's play some fucking music --" - Magnus

"Hey. Take it easy. This isn't just your band. It's our band." - Nathan

"Without me, you guys suck!" - Magnus

This tells me that Magnus has experience in the music world, more so than Pickles.

Why would Pickles even need someone else to write his drum line? He's been in the business for years and has been playing drums as far back as when he was a kid still living at home. Pickles is experienced and has already had fame at one point in his life; he knows what he's doing. So, why would he be taking drum lines from Magnus and why would he be listening to him?

Because Magnus is older than him and he has more musical experience than him, somehow, somewhere.

I'm not sure how though. Possibly as a failed guitarist in other bands, maybe as a ghost writer for other bands. The possibilities are literally endless for him.

Take note, Magnus seems to be playing a Les Paul Gibson guitar, which is an older model type of guitar but not too much older than Skwisgaar's Explorer or Toki's Flying-V. However, In the DVD Special "CFO taking calls" Charles says that he has a vintage "'59" guitar, presuming he is talking about Les Paul guitars because that's what the topic was on during the call. Magnus is playing an all black Les Paul Gibson guitar, and vintage models are highly sought after, especially from the '50s and '60s.

This could be a subtle way of pinpointing the generational differences between Magnus to Skwisgaar (and the rest of the band). In "Snakes N' Barrels", Pickles is playing a Les Paul guitar in both the flash back and the reunion. It's the same one that he asks for when he is 16 to the pawn shop owner.

It's similar to Magnus, except Pickles' has a light wood finish. Maybe this is another way of stating that Magnus is stuck in the past, while the rest of the band wants to move forward. Also, his guitar is round with no points. Toki, Skwisgaar, and Murderface all have pointed guitars. That could also point that he's not as compatible as he wants to be with the band.

I don't have an age range for him, but, I assume that he's in his 40's in 1996. Making him in his 50's in 2006. This would make sense as he has significant graying hair in the front, and your 50's is when people start to see significant amounts of graying.

Late 1950's - Magnus is born

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1980~ - Toki is born

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

Between 1992~ to 1995~ - Toki is kicked out from possible ages of 12 to 15

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

1996 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 16 (Could have been between 16 to 18)

1996 - Magnus was in Dethklok in his 40's (Kicked out)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

2006 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 26

2006 - Magnus is not in Dethklok in his 50's

Age Range

So, based on the evidence above, the ages go like this.

1996:

Magnus (40's)

Pickles (32)

Murderface (26)

Skwisgaar (23)

Nathan (23)

Toki (16)

2006:

Magnus (50's)

Pickles (42)

Murderface (36)

Skwisgaar (33)

Nathan (33)

Toki (26)

I will not be going any further than 2006 because it's not prevalent to the question asked, but a quick guess would be that 3 to 5 years have passed that could be canonically recorded in the show. Add on maybe another 5 to 10 years to keep up with reality's technological advancements being present in the show (Buttons on Dethphones turning to Screens). Do with that what you want.

How The Band Met: Contextual Evidence

This is where a lot of the subjectivism comes to play. I'm going to be using the bands ages, their possible backgrounds, and the canon (ish) bits of their past to form a timeline.

Nathan: The Beginning

Dethklok is Nathan's band, he's the one that made it and recruited people originally. He started this band as early as high school but had dreams of making this band as early as a child. So, the band starts with him! None of the band members can become band members until they met and are accepted by Nathan (plus any members present at the time.)

Pickles and Murderface: An Unlikely Duo

Now we get to Pickles. Pickles and Murderface are the two oldest members of the band. They are close enough as friends for Murderface to have been invited inside Pickles' home for dinner. (Coming from the DVD extra). The context of that statement is right after Pickles said how his mom would make bowls of mayo for dinner, and Murderface responded how he remembers that and had a bowl there once. None of the others state they have had dinner with Pickles' family before, especially Nathan, who Pickles is very close with, even at the beginning of their music career (Nathan states how when all 5 of them were in the same room, he knew they were going to be a success, and he looked to Pickles specifically, who also felt it.) So, I believe that Pickles and Murderface probably knew each other before they got into the band.

Pickles was in active search for heavier music, and Nathan says that Murderface is the "most brutal of all bass players". ("Birthdayface") Now, we have no information on Murderface's past or how he joined the band, but it would make sense if Pickles discovered Murderface while on his journey for heavier music. We know that Murderface was in some type of band before Dethklok, so it's possible that Pickles recruited Murderface and then traveled with him for a couple of years before finding Nathan.

Skwisgaar: My Shot

Skwisgaar is trickier. He had to have come to the United States at some point alone to join the band or he was with one of his original bands then ditched and joined Dethklok. We can have theories as to why he ditched so many bands (Not challenged enough, not heavy enough, fear of commitment both platonically and romantically, getting further and further away from his mom) but we know that he did it frequently. Now, we know that Skwisgaar and Nathan are the same age, between 18 to 23. We also know that Skwisgaar had a job at one point that required him to cash in checks at the bank. Somewhere, between having that job and meeting Nathan, Skwisgaar had been in (at least) 8 other bands. (Agnostic Priest, Gangagar, Eldeleel-Alele, Gognog Mug Alugdug, Fuckface Academy, Sausage Assassin, Financially Raped, Smugly Dismissed.) He was busy in so many others bands between that time, which really is not a lot of time.

Assuming that Skwisgaar graduated high school at 18, he would be an adult exiting the school system. Somewhere between being 18 and in bands to 23 in Dethklok, Skwisgaar must have come to the United States.

Why?

There's no evidence to support that his previous bands were strictly from Sweden, as English named bands in non-dominated English speaking countries are fairly common. However, Skwisgaar moving to the United Sates without any support or reason doesn't seem something that he would do, especially if he was doing well for himself in bands in Sweden. I also highly doubt that he heard of Nathan's small garage metal band all the way from Sweden, since Nathan was very poor while trying to get Dethklok off it's feet.

I believe that Skwisgaar was on tour with one of his bands that went to the United States and found Nathan. Or rather, Nathan discovered Skwisgaar. It's well known that Skwisgaar is a fantastic guitar player and is always looking to improve his skill. I have a theory that Nathan offered Skwisgaar the lead guitarist spot in Dethklok, rather than the rhythm guitarist. A possible reason for Skwisgaar leaving different bands is because he was not being shown enough respect for his craft and wanted a chance to prove his worth, which is why he fought with Nathan in Doomstar for staying a 4-person band. It also means that he would have wanted someone who could be his rhythm guitarist after Magnus that could keep up with him, which is why he went so hard on all of the interviewees.

Dethklok is his first and only band that allowed him to be the lead guitarist.

Toki: The New Beginning

Not much to say as we have a canon meeting. Toki comes and auditions, loses, but is still allowed to join because he makes Skwisgaar play better. He is the last member of the band to make Dethklok complete, and pushed the prophecy forward.

Magnus: The Judas Archtype

Something I want to point out is that, out of all the members of Dethklok, Nathan is the most affected by Magnus physically (Stabbed in the back) and emotionally (AOTD).

There are theories that Nathan was looking to grab Magnus out of The Depths of Humanity in Doomstar when they grabbed Toki.

There is also a type of hold that Magnus has over Nathan during AOTD and what would Nathan say to him. We know that Magnus' name pops up in the notebook about people Nathan wants to talk to. We also know that Nathan calls his death a "tragedy" (though, he said this while going through his own emotions, so it's wishy washy). In AOTD, the band does call Magnus "selfish" and "too busy being angry" but that's within the context of the band possibly forgiving him. [Granted, forgiving him is a hard decision for me because home boy really really fucked up with Toki and Abigail.] But, I think the context is more about the band never getting the chance to forgive rather than automatically forgiving.

Magnus committing suicide makes Nathan feel guilty, even if he doesn't know what he could have done better or is he believed that Magnus did deserve punishment but suicide was too far for him. Nathan blames himself for Magnus being Magnus and doing what he did, because ultimately, kicking him out of his band was his decision. A decision that caused Toki and Abigail to get kidnapped and tortured decades down the line.

What I'm trying to say is that Nathan and Magnus had some type of strong bond, and Nathan feels guilty, while the others do not.

I believe it's because the first member of the band was Magnus. Imagine a fresh faced Nathan Explosion trying to figure things out and in walks in an older man with inside experience to the music industry and fantastic musical skill. Remember, Magnus and the band got along. Magnus, at one point, loved and cared for the band. He looked at a photo of himself in the band right before killing himself, he had a strong relationship with them.

That's why he is so strung out during the flashback. He sees Dethklok as his band, while Nathan sees it as our band. Magnus and Nathan met before anyone else.

How Do All Of These Moving Parts Connect?

I believe that it is up to interpretation truly, however, based on how each character is close to one another, I have a rough outline of them meeting and forming Dethklok. Some of these actions are happening at the same time independently.

Pickles discovers Murderface on his journey of finding heavier music

Murderface leaves his current band to follow Pickles

Nathan meets and recruits Magnus into his band.

Pickles and Murderface make their way down the coast until they find Nathan.

Nathan recruits Pickles and Murderface.

Nathan discovers Skwisgaar at a concert and decides to try and recruit him after the show by offering him the lead guitarist spot (Remember, Magnus is a lot calmer before the initial flashback, so I don't think guitar positions would bother him as much as it bothers Toki.)

Skwisgaar agrees and the band is completed

Dethklok gains Charles

Charles has Dethklok signed and labeled

Dethklok kicks out Magnus

Toki auditions and gets the spot

Dethklok is now, officially, complete

I would like to add that Skwisgaar and Magnus' spots could be switched (Nathan meets Skwisgaar first, become lead guitarist, then they meet Magnus, becomes rhythm guitarist, then Pickles and Murderface.) However, based on my findings and what I believe would be an appropriate flow, I think Magnus and Nathan met first.

Skwisgaar being last makes sense when you consider that Skwisgaar had yet to assimilate into the band like the others did during the flashbacks. He's still clutching onto his own style, his own aesthetic, his own "lone wolf" persona. That only changes until after Toki.

While Pickles and Murderface being the second and third members to join make sense in respect that Pickles and Nathan are very close and worked closely together from the very beginning to write songs. They wouldn't be going on Friender-Benders if they were not super close with each other friendship-wise and work-wise. That type of bond takes serious loyalty and chemistry.

Murderface and Nathan's relationship also feels close. Murderface does a lot of dumb shit, including suing the band at one point, and it takes a lot of that before Nathan wants to kick him out of the band. I believe that Nathan has a very strong relationship with Murderface in the sense that they have been friends and bandmembers for a long time. He has a connection with Murderface and doesn't want to let that go, especially like how he let Magnus go. Nathan also knows how to handle him very well, which indicates that they have a familiar bond.

Toki, obviously, comes in last, with a canon introduction.

Conclusion

Order:

Nathan meets Magnus

Pickles meets Murderface

Nathan and Magnus meet Pickles and Murderface

Nathan, Magnus, Pickles, and Murderface meet Skwisgaar

Magnus is kicked out

Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, and Skwisgaar meet Toki

How:

Nathan meets Magnus, someone who is from the music world, and Magnus becomes the first member of Dethklok as a guitarist. At the same time, Pickles is on his "heavier music" journey and discovers Murderface, where he convinces Murderface to join him. They bond for an unknown amount of time while Nathan and Magnus work on Dethklok and finding the right band members. (Because there is no other ex-Dethklok band members, I don't think they recruited anyone until Pickles and Murderface.) Within that time, Pickles and Murderface head to Florida and are discovered by Nathan and Magnus. This could be at a party or maybe Magnus had prior knowledge of Pickles and his journey and met up with him. Nathan ends up recruiting Pickles and Murderface. Skwisgaar comes to the United States on a tour, and at a concert, Nathan spots him. He convinces Skwisgaar to leave his band and join them with the promise of becoming the lead guitarist, something none of the other bands let him be. From there, they get Charles, get signed, and work on producing their first labeled album. Magnus goes crazy, stabs Nathan, and is kicked out. Toki comes to audition for his spot by dueling Skwisgaar, loses, but is accepted in anyway. This completes Dethklok.

______________________________________________________________

That's really it. Obviously, this is all subjective and based on miniscule details and feelings. The band could have met in a million different variations at different ages, but this is what I believe within my research. Though, it could change. It's all fiction in the end.

Toki Hair Theory Expansion.

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #dethklok #metalocalypse theory #magnus hammersmith

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sexysapphicshopowner · 8 months ago

Text

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Big news for the dreamgirls!! Aftermath of 'Twenty Foreplay'

🤎 soft!wife!dreamgirl!sevika x wife!dreamgirl!reader

🤎 CW/TW: abuse, violence, death, murder, child sexual abuse, adult language, pregnancy, lesbians, pet names, fluff, angst, abortion attempt, sevika has a tragic backstory, eating disorder, drug use, mentions of alcoholism, sorry if I forgot any, not proofread/edited so excuse any mistakes

🤎 A/N: It's late, I know, life happens. I actually cut it short bc it was starting to get a lot heavier than I wanted and the flow was starting to get a bit sloppy. So have this.

🤎 Notes: Um, I cried while writing most of the flashback parts. I love the dreamgirls.

🤎 Word count: 12.4k

Aromatic wisps of rosemary and sage wafted through the bathroom, the scents intermingling with that of the light and warm, semi-bubbly milk bath your wife had drawn for you when she’d gotten home for the day. You let out a soft sigh, your head barely hanging over the edge as you sunk further into the calming water, trying to let as much stress seep out of you as possible.

Familiar and comforting hands found your shoulders, a kiss being planted on your temple as she spoke, voice barely a rumble over the neo-soul that was playing from the speaker on the sink counter, “How are you feeling, dream girl?”

“Better now that you’re in here,” you hummed as you looked up to her, pressing a kiss to her chin as she massaged your shoulders.

Her laugh was quiet as she ducked lower to press an upside-down kiss to your lips before kissing up the bridge of your nose. The playful little pecks turned reverent as her lips landed back at your forehead, peppering across the area as her hands moved.

Fingers splayed out over your neck and partially your collar as she pressed her thumbs behind your ears, rubbing in circles. You all but melted in her hands, letting your eyes slip closed once more as you enjoyed her touch and kiss.

“Have you started yet? I dropped last night.”

You shook your head, letting out a little sigh, “Not yet, though I wish it would hurry up. These body aches are killing me and if I keep gagging, I’m gonna throw up and that’s gonna make me cry.”

She cooed, thumbs now tracing down, applying a slight pressure as she dragged them along the line of your jaw, “My poor little mama...”

“Why poor me? You’re the one that’s actually on. I should’ve been the one drawing a bath for you when you got home.”

“Sure, but if you never drop then, you know what that means,” she hinted.

You rolled your eyes playfully, humming, “True... we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens. We both know my cycle is still very off and weird.” “Right, right. Now about this gag-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she pouted.

“I don’t have to. You were about to ask if it’s too bad for me to suck a lil’ dick. You’re so sick and twisted and completely un-slick, little nasty,” you shook your head, pushing her face playfully.

“Well, you’ve got me there. It was worth a try in my book,” she shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You disgust me.”

“Do I? Do I really,” she asked playfully, as you looked up, leaning your head back just a little further.

You beckoned her closer as you leaned your head back a little further, “Kiss, kiss.”

She happily obliges, leaning down to meet your lips as you stretch up just the tiniest bit. The kiss isn’t long, but it was enough to sate you until you could kiss her properly later. She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away, “I’m so in love with you and everything about you...”

Your breath caught as you looked up at her, finding that same indescribable flame that always burned within her silvery eyes. Somehow the color still hadn’t dulled against the harsh reality of life as a Zaunite. Even more, that loving look in them only seemed to be larger every time you caught her eye.

You were swooning.

It wasn’t until her lips pressed to your forehead that you were pulled out of your reverie, blinking up at her as you turned around in the tub to look up at her properly as you leaned onto your arms, folding them over the edge of the bathtub, “I love you more.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, beckoning her closer with the crook of a finger, “Uh-huh. C'mere. I’ll show you how much I love you.”

She all but fell back into your lips, sighing into your kiss as it consumed her, your nails raking over her scalp as your fingers slid into her hair, thumbs tracing her jaw just in front of her ears.

In a very uncharacteristic move, she pulled from the embrace before you could even deepen it, huffing, “You can’t kiss me like that, dreamy...”

“Why not?”

She shook her head to clear it, wiping her face, “Because then I’m gonna wanna get into the tub with you, then I’m gonna fuck you and I’m supposed to be focused on doing other things right now.”

“Such as?”

She just chuckled in response before planting a much more chaste kiss to your lips, following it with another to the tip of your nose, the final one touching your forehead as she stood, “What fun would it be if I just told you, mama? I’ll be back in a sec with some sparkling white grape. Just in case I did knock you up, which... not to toot my own dick, but I’m pretty certain I did.”

Your laugh was more of a splutter as you choked on your spit and air at the same time, “For Janna’s sake, Sevi, it’s ‘toot my own horn’. I can’t stand your nasty ass sometimes.”

“Then it’s a wonderful thing you’re in the tub right now, isn’t it?”

“Girl- just hurry up, I want cuddles when I get out of here.”

She blew you a final kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the rest of the house to do whatever it was she was hiding from you. As promised, she’d come back with the sparkling juice, to which you accepted gratefully with a little kiss before sinking back into your bath, lazily holding the champagne flute over the side of the tub as you sipped on the drink idly.

Sevika doesn’t like men.

All the men out there who’ve ever wanted to fuck her can thank her father for the aversion.

You see, when your childhood consists of being pimped out to strange men to pay your alcoholic father’s gambling debts, constantly getting into street fights, and then getting your ass handed to you once you get home- you don’t have much time to really discover yourself.

Maybe in a different universe- one where Sevika wasn’t born in Zaun... where her father wasn’t abusive... where she wasn’t sex trafficked by the very man that was meant to protect her... she might’ve been attracted to men.

But this wasn’t that universe.

Her fear of relationships with men quickly grew into an outright disgust of them.

And then it got worse.

For Sevika, it started with the vomiting.

For probably all the ladies living up Topside, the first sign would’ve been a missed period. Thanks to life in the Lanes, however, Sevika was pretty used to her period not coming at all sometimes. It never came with a baby before though.

She’d been dancing the line of unknown pregnancy scares since she was 11. Now she was 21, still under the thumb of her father, and even worse- pregnant.

It wasn’t long before you were wrapped in a fluffy robe, feet slid into your house slippers as Sev guided you into the kitchen with her hands over your eyes under the guise of ‘driving you’ to her secret little surprise.

You stumbled a bit and she took a little pause, “You okay?”

“I smell food.”

Her chuckle was hearty and you could almost hear the head shake that accompanied her words, “I’m sure you do. Almost there, dream girl.”

Her hands were removed from your eyes without warning and allowed your eyes to adjust as she leaned her face over your shoulder, hands coming down to their usual home base of your waist as you took in the ambient, candlelit dinner she’d put together for you guys, “Sev...”

She shook her head before you could continue, “Yes, I’m on my period and that’s your favorite time to spoil me, but I wanted to treat my wife.”

You poked your lip out as you turned your head to look at her, “Sev...”

She giggled, peppering the side of your face with kisses, “Don’t cry, mama... it’s just dinner. I can’t even cook like you.”

You sniffled, fanning your eyes, “Shut it, my emotions are just everywhere right now. It’s not about your cooking skills, even though we both know I’ve taught you well... It’s about the gesture, and you know it.”

She nodded, lips now at your shoulder, “I know... hope you love it.”

“Of course, I love it... I love you...” you mumbled, holding a hand against her cheek.

“Alright, alright, sit and eat,” she prompted, pulling your chair out with her foot. Before you could protest as she sat you down, she pressed several kisses to your face, “And I love you too. Never forget it.”

You had a stupid smile on your face throughout the entirety of dinner.

Emetophobia.

The fear of vomiting or seeing others being sick.

Sevika had experienced her father’s violent reactions to her throwing up before.

The first time was when she was 6.

It was a particularly bad winter in Zaun. The smog was thicker, the cold seemed to seep into the very core of the Lanes.

She’d been battling the sniffles and a nasty fever for days, all the while still being forced to ‘put herself to use’ by her father.

Then it got worse.

Then she began to throw up.

At first, she hid it well. She’d swallow it down when she couldn’t get out of his sight. When she could, she’d always go out to an alley, ducking and weaving through bodies of what the little girl only hoped was just drunkards and junkies who’d passed out on a bender rather than what a six-year-old Sevika knew in her heart were either already dead or close to it.

Up until this point, the extent of physical abuse coming directly from her father was a slap across the face or being picked up by the front of her shirt and shaken around.

Then she brought him breakfast and didn’t make it out of his room fast enough to go puke out back.

That was the catalyst for the abuses that would be-fall her for the next few decades of her life.

Throw up tastes disgusting.

It tastes even worse going back down after being licked up off your father’s grimy boots.

Even worse, the feeling of wanting to re-release those fluids again when you were forced to lick those same boots clean until they were no longer grimy.

Sevika trained herself to hold her throw up in after that.

Your music from the bathroom was moved to one of the counters in the kitchen, incense burning in the holder as you and Sevika cuddled up into each other, you perched up on her lap with the two of you picking from the same plate in between soft kisses and intimate looks.

It was just you and your wife, enjoying the presence and company of one another in the midst of the meal she’d prepared.

You leaned back against her chest, letting out a happy sigh, “You know... I’m so proud of you for this.”

“Yeah,” she asked softly. The softness of her voice, the genuine question in that one word was so cute. You turned in her lap, sitting sideways atop her, cupping her cheek in a hand as you smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

You kept your voice at the same level of hers as you responded, “Of course, I’m proud, baby. You pan fried the rice properly and everything. I’m so very proud to see you picking up cooking a little more.”

Your heart broke a little at the tears that glossed over her silver orbs as she looked up at you, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby, I mean it. What’s wrong,” you cooed, bringing your other hand to her cheek to stroke both of them with your thumbs, “Talk to me, baby.”

She shrugged, looking away, “I dunno... I just... I feel like I’ve been struggling to eat lately. Like I’ve been having to force myself to eat so I just... I wasn’t sure if I was in the right headspace to be cooking tonight, but I wanted to treat you, you know?”

“Sev...” you began.

“Don’t... it’s okay, doll. I’ll-”

“Sevika,” you stopped her, keeping her face turned to yours as you moved again, this time to straddle her, “Will you look at me? Please?”

She shook her head in your gentle grip, tears beginning to well, threatening to spill over as she fought hard to blink them back, “I can’t...”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to see you disappointed in me...” she whispered, voice barely the ghost of a whisper. It was the smallest you’d heard her voice in a while. The last time was... you softened, further, bringing your voice to a warmer tone.

“I’m not disappointed in you, baby. And I never could be, especially not for something like that. I’m actually proud of you. Very proud that instead of shutting down, you’re talking about it. I know how hard that is for you, especially when it comes to your eating. So with that being said, will you please look at me?”

Watery eyes met yours as she nibbled the inside of her cheek, whispering, “Promise?”

“Of course, baby. I promise, I’m not disappointed.”

She took a shuddery, breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against your chest, “I love you...”

You pressed a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, “I love you too, baby. You wanna try and eat a little something more for me? Or do you just wanna talk? What did you eat today?”

“Um.... I had a few bites of the lunch you made me, but then I.... let Ran eat the rest... I’m sorry...”

“Baby, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Can you at least drink some water and eat a little something? Just a couple of bites?” She whined and you let out a little sigh, running your fingers through her hair, “Have you smoked yet?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t help?”

“No.”

“Okay... You’ll try again later?”

“Sure.”

“If you can’t that’s fine, but you gotta promise me you’ll try and eat well tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise...”

A plaintive silence fell over the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... somber. You didn’t comment when she began to pick a few bites off the plate again, simply smiling that she was getting some form of food in her, even if it wasn’t a lot.

At some point, Sevika had stopped eating, hands gripping at your waist, hips and thighs as she pressed kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder. Her hands strayed to your stomach as she mumbled, “Hey, mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

She chuckled as you stuffed your face with food, wiping some from your cheek, “What if I really did knock you up in one try?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how many times did you nut in me? And we were both ovulating around that time too. It was like perfectly timed for us to actually end up with a baby.”

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and you went right back to eating before she rested her chin on your shoulder, tracing your side with her mechanic hand, “You make me want a family...”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “Yeah... even with life down here... the work that I do... you make me wanna have something to leave behind... a little family that’s like... a legacy of our love. Like, yes, I wanna be a mother and give our kids the things that I never had, but I also want people to see our kids and know that those are our kids. Like... they know that our kids have two loving moms that are actively in love.”

You let out a little giggle, turning to the side in her lap to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you held her other one, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone, “You’re so cute... I love you, and I would love to have your babies, and I know what you’re trying to say, I promise.”

She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned into your hand on her face, “Thank Janna, I thought I was just rambling stupidly.”

You shook your head, pressing more kisses to her face and lips, “No, I understood you perfectly.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You giggled, nodding, “Yeah, a little bit. You always remind me that I’m loved... it’s why I married you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Baby, you told me you loved me within our first four dates. It was so cute because you were still learning to navigate love and healthy relationships... we both were, and still are, but here I had the big, scary lady of Zaun and she was looking at me like a puppy and telling me that she thought she was falling in love with me. I think that was the moment when I truly felt like I had found my person in you. And well... the rest is really history. By the time you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t say anything but yes.”

She had idly reached for her wedding band that she always wore on a chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she looked up at you in her lap, “You never once like... entertained saying no? Or maybe waiting a little longer?”

“Never. I knew when I met you that I had to snatch you up and it was just my luck that you seemed to have the same thought process when it came to me. I love you. And that’s not changing. So yes, I mean it when I say I wanna have your children, or that I love you more than anything, or that I’d do anything you asked of me because you’re... you’re everything to me, Sev... and I know that when it comes to us talking about kids it’s hard for you... but you’ve given me so much and I wanna give you the same thing in return. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing about our relationship... well...”

Her eyes snapped up to you from her ring as worry laced through her features, “Well?”

You snickered, placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, “If I could go back, I would make sure I’d asked you to marry me before you could ask me.”

“You’re so,” she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile as you shut her up with another little kiss. She pulled you further into her lap with a happy little sigh, “I love you, dream girl.”

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her, your other hand coming up to her chest, fingernail tracing along her collarbone, “I love you too.”

“Done eating?”

You nodded, patting your stomach, “May or may not be a baby-baby in here, but there’s definitely a food baby in here.”

The way she perked up almost like a little kid was too cute as she asked, “I did good?”

The sated and full sigh you let out was all the answer she really needed, but you furthered it as you spoke, “Fuck yes...”

She rubbed your back with one hand, her other one grabbing hold of your hand to kiss each of your fingertips, “You’re so cute. It wasn’t even all that, mama.”

“Uh-huh, it was gourmet. My compliments to the chef.”

She raised a brow, voice full of ulterior motives and that all-too-familiar lilt as she muttered, “If you weren’t clearly about to fall asleep, I would ask for some better compliments, you know.”

You quirked a brow sleepily, looking up at her through low and hooded eyes, “Huh?”

“Alright, c’mon. To bed with you,” she prodded, adjusting her hold on you to pick you up with your legs wrapped around her waist.

You instinctively looped your arms around her neck, pressing a few kisses to it as you hummed, “I love you.”

“So I’ve noticed. I love you too.”

“I love you.”

She chuckled, “I love you too, baby.”

“I love you.”

She used her foot to push open the door to your shared bedroom, nodding as she used her foot to close the door once more, “Uh-huh, I love you too, dreamy. What’s up?”

You shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap again, “Just feel like I haven’t said it enough today, you were at work all day, baby. Gotta reach our quota.”

“We have a quota?”

“Mhm,” you nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed as you planted lazy kisses against whatever skin was closest to you.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she assumed a firmer grip on your hip as she hummed, “And what exactly would that number be?”

“We say ‘I love you’ at least 76 times a day. And we kiss at least 280 times.”

She chuckled, hand stroking along your hip and thigh as she nodded, “And where did you get these numbers from? Your ass?”

“I’ve always counted.”

That shut her up before she asked her next question a few moments later, “Are these exact numbers?”

“An average. I did say ‘at least’.”

“Huh.... you’re gay.”

“Okay, but you married me so what does that say about you?”

“That I did.” She turned to press a kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline before resting her head against yours, “I love you, dream girl.”

You melted in her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you tightened your hold around her waist, “I love you...”

“I love you,” she called again with a soft lilt in her tone as her thumb traced circles at the side of your hip.

A heavy blush was creeping up from your chest, your skin growing warm as you let out a shaky breath, “I love you...”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Words, mama.” You huffed and she shook her head, “No, ma’am. Talk to me. You goin’ to sleep on me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head against her, “Mh-mh.”

She just chuckled, rubbing your back with one hand as she cradled the back of your head with the other, pressing kisses into your hair, “Whatever you say, mama.”

Sevika’s pregnancy scares were probably a lot more than she realized, but with little actual knowledge of her body, and the compounding factor of probably the world’s most irregular cycle, she spent the majority of her tween, teen, and young adult years none the wiser to any of the times where her body was seemingly contemplating the creation of a child.

Until it started.

At first, it was just a random nausea spell here and there.

Then the nausea grew constant, the smallest smells setting her off with this horrible gagging.

And then she threw up.

All she could think of was what she was supposed to do when her father found out. No, no... he couldn’t find out.

Flashbacks of that day when she was 6 have been haunting her since the first day of nausea. The intensity all but doubled when she woke up running for the toilet.

Terrified didn’t even begin to cover the amalgamation of emotions Sevika was feeling when she realized what was going on with her.

She thrust herself into ‘working’. Unsure of how far along she was and unable to actually find out, she decided to swallow down her daily morning sickness whenever it cropped up if she could, and when she couldn’t, she was straight to the nearest toilet.

That didn’t stop her father from finding out.

Sevika was sat on the bathroom floor, groaning under her breath after being unable to force herself to swallow her vomit back down. She was too weak and out of it to scramble and get herself together.

If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d thrown up- didn't even get the chance to flush the toilet yet- her lack of reaction to his presence only further incensed the already drunk and irate man that called himself her father.

It was a shitshow.

Sevika was hemmed up by the collar of her shirt, his fist shaking as he barked in her face, questioning if this was why she’d been ‘underperforming’ lately. Too stunned to speak and reeling from the sudden yanking up from the floor, she sputtered, dizzy with a pounding headache as she tried to form a response.

The more she floundered to actually engage with him, the more angry and downright belligerent he became.

As always, he didn’t see his daughter, shaking under his grip of her collar.

No, he saw the extra mouth he’d been having to feed.

He saw the reason his wife was dead.

He saw red.

By the time Sevika found her words to even begin attempting to answer his barrage of questions and demands, his fist was already connecting with her face, his grip on her shirt the only thing saving her from ending up sprawled on the bathroom floor.

It was going to be a beating for the books.

You didn’t even realize it when she’d laid you down in the bed on the pillows, tucking you in, until she was sliding into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind with a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “Hm?”

She shook her head, reaching a hand into your robe to hold one of your breasts as another kiss was planted to the side of your neck, “Go to sleep, mama. I just had to go get out of my work clothes.”

You let out a little groan, turning in her arms to nestle into her, your face tucked under her chin as you mumbled, “Hmmm... g’night.... love you...”

With a little chuckle she pressed kisses into your hair, rubbing your lower back as she whispered against you, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”

You didn’t sleep very well at all.

Along with the aches and random pains in weird places in your body- a tugging in your lower abdomen that also had a random stabbing along with it, back pain, an almost constant headache, and just a general discomfort and ache in your body- you also had this constant metal taste that was like having a mouthful of rusty change in your mouth at all times.

You were constantly waking up throughout the night from the discomfort, the violent urge to brush your teeth to purge your mouth of the vile metallic tang plaguing you. This, compounded with your incessant gagging, had you growing nauseous with the mere thought of your toothbrush starting to make you want to dry-heave.

You were presently standing over the sink, tears in your eyes as you tried to prepare yourself to gargle some mouthwash after having thrown up for about the fifth time since you woke up in the middle of the night.

Sevika, ever the stony sleeper, had no idea until she rolled over, finding your cold spot in the bed next to her. She groaned, calling out in a sleep-filled voice, “Baby, what’re you doin’? Come back so we can cuddle...”

You huffed, gripping onto the counter of the bathroom sink, fighting the urge to dry-heave again, “I’ll be back in a second....”

You could hear her trudging footsteps coming closer to the bathroom until she was coming up behind you, rubbing your back and pulling hair out of your face, concern and sleep both written on her features, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just.... I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head, pushing her hand away before grabbing the capful of mouthwash.

“You can’t lie to me, dream girl. You’re crying, you’re pale... you look like shit and you’re supposed to be asleep right now. Talk to me.”

“I’m in pain, gagging now has nausea with it, I just threw up, so now I gotta wash that out of my mouth, but that’s still not going to get rid of this fucking taste in my mouth and I just-”

“Hey,” she moved to stand right in front of you, hands on your arms as she rubbed them to try and calm you back down, “Avalanche, you’re spiraling, dreamy. Take a deep breath with me and we’ll go sit down and talk, okay?”

You nodded as you looked up at her, taking a shaky but somewhat deep breath along with her as she nodded along, continuing to rub your arms with her thumbs tracing circles.

You let out a hiccup when you went to exhale and the second the tears started to brew again, she shook her head, “No, no, eyes on me... You’re safe... you’re okay, I promise. I’m here. You are okay, you’re doing so well, my love. Let’s try again, okay? Deep breaths.”

It took a few more tries before you finally relaxed in her hold, wrapping your arms around her. She brought one hand up to play in your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing your scalp as her claws on her mech hand trailed lightly up and down your back.

She ended up taking you to the kitchen, sitting you down as she made you a glass of water with two and a half ice cubes- just the way you liked it after an episode like that, holding your free hand and kissing your knuckles and fingertips as you drank with your other hand.

When you sat the glass down, she stepped between your legs, still stroking her thumb over the back of your knuckles, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk. If you don’t wanna talk, we can go back to sleep. If you want a distraction, we can watch something, or I could read you something. Just let me know, okay?”

You nodded, reaching up with your other arm for her to come closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaning into the embrace, wrapping you up in her arms. The two of you remained that way for a few quiet moments until you looked up at her with a sniffle, your chin on her chest, “Sev?”

“Yes, dreamy?”

“Can you read to me in bed?”

“Absolutely, baby. Do you wanna stay with me while I grab a book or go get comfy?” You held onto her tighter and she nodded, stroking your hair, “Alright, I got you.” She moved so that she could give you a piggyback while she grabbed a book. She ran her finger over the titles, moving on to the next one when you let out a little ‘mh-mh’ sound at each one until giving a nod when she got to a book you wanted to hear.

Once you were both back in bed, Sevika sat up against the headboard with you lying on your stomach between her legs curled up into her chest, she started reading the book, her voice still rather raspy from sleep. She held the book in one hand, her other one up at your face, stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers and only moving to flip the page.

Eventually, you closed your eyes, enjoying the vibrations of her voice in her chest beneath your head and the feel of her fingers on your face. Unconsciously, you took hold of her hand, fiddling with her fingers. She paused in her reading to check in, “You okay?”

“My mouth feels empty,” you lamented softly, the traces of whining laced in your voice.

She kissed your temple, “You’ve got my fingers, mama. Do you want me to keep reading?”

Sevika was no stranger to your occasional bouts like this. You hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a while, but usually when you did, you came out of them feeling very subby, not saying much, and your oral fixation would kick up, usually leading you to say things like ‘my mouth feels empty’.

You nodded in response to her question as you closed your eyes again, softly sucking and gnawing on her index finger. She smiled as your breathing evened out, setting the book aside as she pulled the covers over you both, allowing you to keep her finger before she picked the book back up.

A little groan left you as you took one more finger into your mouth, shifting atop her with your right arm wrapped around her. She shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m right here, dream girl... I’ll never let you go... promise...”

First, he punched.

Blow after blow into her face.

To this day, Sevika still has the slightest taste of blood that crops up in her mouth for no apparent reason from time to time.

It was clear that he was just making himself angrier with each hit, the strikes growing more violent and frenzied the more he spoke, barking at her about bringing another unwanted mouth into the household, about how she was still going to have to work. How could she be so foolish as to allow something like this? Half of his yelling barely made any sense but one thing was clear- he was saying that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trying to get out of pulling her weight around here.

His grip started to shake on her collar until he’d thrown her to the floor, too lazy to bend over and keep using his hands, so here came the infamous worker’s boots, smashing into her stomach and chest with seemingly reckless abandon- yet somehow still managing a concentration of kicks to her stomach. Sevika curled in on herself slightly, instinctively going to guard her stomach which left her chest open.

There was a sick crunch with each kick there, blood bubbling up out of her mouth as her body was wracked with coughs, the blood spattering across the floor with each one. Her father stopped for a few moments, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he wheezed.

"You... are fuckin'.... pathetic..." he huffed, turning back around to prod her face with his foot.

He spat down at her as she lay there, voice gruff as he all but growled, “Get the fuck up.”

Sevika was already weak when he came in, having been throwing up essentially all morning before he'd come in to find her when he got home. It hurt to even breathe, ribs threatening to puncture her lungs with every shallow breath she managed, let alone for her to actually get up off the floor.

She didn’t move.

He gave her a shove with his foot, pushing her onto her back as his voice got louder, “Did you not hear me, bitch? Get the fuck up!”

Tears brewed at the back of her eyes. She always says the back because she learned early on not to cry. He hated that almost more than he hated her.

With a great amount of effort, she rolled onto her side, then her stomach before bracing her hands against the floor to push herself up, low grunts and huffs escaping her the whole way.

She barely got a few inches off the floor before he used his foot once again to kick her, knocking her back down, “Get up.”

It was getting harder to hold those tears.

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that actually ending up pregnant would change things. She never hoped for anything. But some subconscious part of her did. While she had no plans on keeping the child, not that her father would let her anyway, something deep within her secretly wanted to.

Her arms were wobbly, weak as she started to push up again. Each time she started to get up as he was demanding, he’d kick up under her, right into her stomach.

She knew what he was doing.

She didn’t want to lose the baby.

Not like this.

But she couldn’t do anything.

For years after his death, she berated herself for not killing him sooner.

After all if she had...

To say you had a disgusting cocktail of things seemingly going wrong with you would’ve been an understatement.

You were locked in an almost unending cycle of sorts. First, you’d feel so nauseous it was almost like you were seasick. Then you’d throw up, which meant you had to brush your teeth after, lest the unceasing metallic taste be joined by vomit, which meant more gagging and possible throwing up. Then to make you feel even worse, now your gums were bleeding.

And there was the pains.

Sevika could barely keep up, but she was doing her best. She went into work less often, explaining the situation to Silco. When she did go in, he kept her for shorter hours, having her back home to you before afternoon.

You guys were still awaiting your now questionably late period when you called from the bathroom one morning, “Baby?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Can you bring me a liner from the closet?”

“You dropped?”

“I think?”

She entered the room with a liner in one hand and fresh panties in the other, “You think?”

“It’s never been this light before. It’s not spotting, but it’s not my usual first day either,” you explained, letting her see the red and brown that now stained the panties you were wearing initially before you tossed them across the bathroom and into the hamper, taking the fresh ones and the liner from her with a soft ‘thank you’ as you changed.

She leaned against the sink, clearly studying you, trying to rack her brain for any sort of explanation.

“This just started?”

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking about over there? I’m not dying, am I?”

She looked at you like she could kill you before whatever this was did, “Don’t talk like that. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Perhaps we should visit your mom...”

The last line was muttered more to herself, but you responded all the same. Your mother was a doctor. More than that, she was a pretty damn good one, and she specialized in childbirth and care. She’d helped numerous women through what could’ve otherwise been fatal pregnancies, not to mention you come from a very... fertile line of women.

“Would that make you feel better if I did?”

She nodded immediately, “Yes, please. If anyone will know what’s going on with you, it’s definitely her.”

“You know that’s a six-day trip, right?”

“Don’t care. I’ll work something out with Silco if need be, but I need to know what’s going on with my girl. Start packing when you get out of here, I’ll be back in 45, okay?”

You huffed, grumbling to yourself, “Watch it just be somethin’ stupid."

“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you, dream girl. Don’t make me fuck a reminder into you when I get back.”

“You’re leavin’ without my kisses? Do y’even love me anymore,” you wailed dramatically.

You could almost sense her playful eye-roll as you heard her steps clunking back toward your shared bedroom. She bent down to meet you as you placed the liner into your new panties, pressing two kisses to your lips, “Happy now?”

“No,” you pouted, your bottom lip poked out as you looked up at her sadly.

She stooped down to your level, face softening, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“You only gave me two kisses....” you whined, dead serious.

Her face fell and she pushed your knee, “Don’t scare me like that, I thought something was really wrong, dreamy. Mmmmwah, better?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as she planted a very audible kiss on your lips, nodding, “Yes, thank you. And insufficient kisses it very much serious business.”

“Yeah, when it’s you depriving me, not the other way around. Hurry and get ready, okay? The sooner we figure out what’s going on with you, the better.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Go talk your way into going with me,” you waved her on, getting up from the toilet as you flushed with one hand, turning the sink on with the other to wash your hands.

She got maybe three steps away from the door before she was back in the bathroom, tugging your face to hers for a searing- almost teasing- kiss as she muttered before pulling away, “I love you, lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Despite already missing her presence with her standing right in front of you, you managed a smile, pecking her lips once more, “Hurry, Sevi. The longer it takes you to leave, the longer I have to be here by myself.”

“Say it back first,” she mumbled against your lips, the two of you still trading kisses back and forth.

You pressed a lengthier kiss to her lips, looking up at her with a whisper, “I love you...”

She tilted her head to rest her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Sev-”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back.”

She quickly suppressed the brewing tears, heading to go ask Silco for some time off to make the trip.

Sevika spent that night on the bathroom floor, bloodied and bruised, still coughing up blood periodically as she cradled her stomach, praying to whoever was out there that she didn’t die on that floor.

She didn’t die.

Even more, neither did her baby.

Sevika wasn’t excited.

She wasn’t happy to be bringing this life into the world.

Sevika was petrified about the mere idea of it all.

If she kept the baby, there was the chance her father would kill the baby, or worse, the baby would end up being abused just as she was. She couldn’t have that happen.

But did she truly want to give it away?

If the baby was lucky, it would end up being sent topside to Piltover. It’d be safe there as much as she hated to think about her child ending up being a topsider.

But more likely than not, the kid would end up just in the system. Sent off from home to home around the Lanes. Or even worse, the kid could end up being one of the many orphans on the street.

Sevika didn’t know what she wanted. Or what she would do.

To make matters worse, her father acted as if she weren’t even pregnant in the first place.

She was still working, now having to do even more ‘work’ to make up for the “lackluster performance” from the week she first found out she was pregnant. She was also working at home again, something she hadn’t done much since she’d become an adult.

It took months for her to begin showing, and by the time she had, it was almost as if her father intended for her to keep the baby. The physical abuse was now reduced to the occasional slap or hair snatch here and there, and though the verbal and emotional abuse intensified in its place, he’d begun seemingly making room for the new addition.

He was by no means happy about the prospect of his daughter having a child. But the way he saw it, that was another worker to bring money in to fund his drinking, gambling, and other vices.

The way Sevika saw it? She'd rather die than let her child go through the same things she did. Whether this was something she wanted or not, she knew that if she had to have this child, she’d protect it with her life.

It’s nowhere near the first time you’ve had to make this trip to see your mom. 6 days there, 6 days back.

The majority of your journey is spent with your symptoms playing a twisted game of roulette, alternating between which ones will be your biggest issue that day.

You’re a constant mess of tears, throwing up, gagging, whining, and for the life of you, you cannot stop peeing, only to end up releasing barely a trickle if even a few drops.

You’re tired.

Sevika is also tired.

Your wife wasn’t much of a caregiver when the two of you met. She wasn’t the worst, but it was clear that she was still very much learning. By now she's got it pretty much mastered.

She’s been holding you through everything, offering up massages, cuddles, and her fingers whenever you’re starting to get too overwhelmed by all the different compounding symptoms of what’s looking more and more like a pregnancy.

That’s when the nosebleeds started.

You’ve never had a nosebleed before. Aside from getting your nose broken that one time, you’d only ever dealt with Sevika’s nosebleeds that she gets during the winter from her nostrils drying out. But you? Never had it happen.

However, you knew what it meant.

It ran in the family. Bloody noses and sensitive- sometimes bleeding- gums were some of the earliest pregnancy symptoms within your family. If you didn’t know based on your other symptoms, all other weird yet slightly common symptoms of pregnancy, you definitely knew now.

You were both in your hotel room, the last stop before the final half-day stretch that would get you to your mother’s house, your back to her front as she trailed her fingers over your stomach, muttering affirmations and praises under her breath at how good you’d been holding up when you felt what you thought was your nose running.

You reached up to swipe at your nose with a sniff, pulling your sleeve away to find red now smeared across it, “Oh no...”

She sat up with you, eyes going wide, “Baby?”

You held your nose, pinching the bottom of your nostrils as you cupped your other hand under your chin, holding your head forward while running to the bathroom.

It’s not an overwhelming amount of blood. You’ve seen Sevika come home with much worse from particularly bloody brawls at The Last Drop for sure. But to your wife? You may as well be dying.

Sev is right on your heels, a face towel in her hands already being run under some warm tap water as she pulls you in front of her, taking hold of your chin with her mech hand and assessing the situation as she cleans your face with the towel in her other one.

“This isn’t normal.... d’you think we can leave tonight? Get a jump on some answers? I’m worried about you.”

“Baby, it’s just a nosebleed. I won’t bleed out by morning. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

She shakes her head, turning your face side-to-side face for signs of any bruising or other things that may be outwardly wrong with you. When she finds none, she starts to gently prod at your nose with a finger, pushing against the bridge and around, “You don’t get it, dreamy. You don’t get nosebleeds. I get those like an orphan gets the cold and flu. Not you... I don’t know a single person in the Lanes who’s just never had a nosebleed like you... I’m scared.”

While you were now very certain about being pregnant, you wanted to wait to tell her, so you simply took hold of her arms- standard panic protocol between the two of you- as you spoke gently, “Baby, there’s a lot of things going on with me that just aren’t normal for me, but that’s why we’re on this trip. We’ll get answers in the morning, okay? Breathe for me, deep breaths.”

Sevika’s barrage of questions and worries fizzle out on her tongue as she locks in with you, mumbling a small, “Avalanche,” as she takes a deep breath in time with your own.

“There we go, my love. What can I do for you to make you feel a bit better right now? If you wanna get back on the road, we can. Or we can go cuddle and I’ll braid your hair. Or we can watch our show. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, okay?”

She closed her eyes as she took a final breath, opening them once she blew it back out, “Can you braid my hair and we watch our show?”

“Of course, baby. Come on, relax time. If my nose bleeds again tonight, we’ll get up and head on immediately.”

The two of you ended up back in bed, Sevika’s head in your lap as you gave her a few braids to pull back into two little pigtails in place of her usual half pony, you guys’ show playing in the background of her giving you updates on the things she’s gotta do for Silco when you two return back home.

“And then he was literally all whiny talking about how he needs me to come in at some point when we get back so I can go head up the factory and take stock.”

You snickered, pulling a hair tie around her first little pigtail, “We need to get this man a calculator class or something. Oh, remind me it’s time for a trim when we get home, your undercut is practically long enough for me to braid it too.”

She rolled her eyes, rolling over in your lap to face you so you could do the other side of her hair, “Oh hush, it’s not that long.”

“Nah, I’m just being extra.”

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth, “I love you...”

You noticed the tense in her jaw, voice softening, “I love you more, baby.”

“Avalanche,” she said meekly, fist gripping your shirt.

You set your comb aside, pulling her up and into your arms as you wrapped your legs around her, allowing her to bury her face in your chest. Slowly rocking side to side, you stroked her hair with one hand, holding her tightly with your other arm as you pressed kisses to her temple and along her hairline, “I got you, Vika.... I’ll never let you go.... never leave... You’re safe... I love you... I’m always going to love you... nothing you do will change that... We’ve been married for so long now... We’re planning babies... We’re still gonna get our homestead... And you can have your animals... I’ll have my fruits and veggies... Me ‘n you, baby...”

You kept whispering little reassurances, reminding her about you guys’ life plan, the things the two of you have already accomplished together, the ones still to come, all while rocking her and playing in her hair. She was holding onto you for dear life. You’d been waiting for it to hit her again, knowing what time of year it was.

When her breathing evened out and her grip on you relaxed just the tiniest bit, you pulled back slightly, cleaning the crust from her eyes with your shirt before pulling the article off, tossing it to the floor. You finished her cute little pigtails while she slept, pausing to press a kiss to her nose every time she started to stir a little bit.

You watched a few more episodes of you guys’ show, making sure to put it back to where it was when she fell asleep before you relaxed as well, pulling the covers up over the two of you.

With a final kiss to her nose, this one earning a soft smile in her sleep, you leaned your head against hers before following her to sleep, mumbling, “Sweet dreams, my love... You’re gonna be a great mother...”

Pregnancy was... well...

Sevika wasn’t sure how to describe her pregnancy. She was in such a weird place after the initial day of her father finding out that she wasn’t sure what to make of anything.

One moment, he was “caring” for her- which really just meant not beating the shit out of her and pimping her out- and the next he was either acting like she didn’t exist or, again, human punching bag.

As far as symptoms, her vomiting didn’t last very long, took her maybe two weeks after that day for her to get a handle on forcing her morning sickness back down no matter what.

She really didn’t get the chance to think about it much. Sure, she had aches and pains. Sure, she had cravings. Sure, she was in and out of bathrooms like it was nobody’s business. But, those were all just minor- trivial things that ranged from annoying to slightly inconvenient at times.

The hard part was delivery.

Sevika delivered her daughter herself.

Alone, in a back alley, deep in the very heart of Zaun.

Giving birth hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before and anything she’d ever feel after.

Sevika didn’t know much about her body.

Besides the hateful things spewed about it from her father, the lustful words from her “clients”, and the few things she’d managed to sneak and read back when she was younger, she actually didn’t know much about how her body worked, let alone pregnancy.

But something seemed to come over her.

It was as if suddenly she knew everything she needed to have her baby safely.

Yes, she was giving birth in a dirty alleyway- the whole of Zaun was dirty, it was unavoidable- but even through the pain she was... calm.

She wasn’t worried about someone finding her and interfering. She wasn’t worried about her father.

All she cared about was making sure her baby made it out into this world.

And she did it.

With nothing but a lighter, a shoelace, a pocketknife, and some stolen whiskey, she delivered her baby.

A girl.

She always wanted to have a daughter when she was little.

She told herself that she’d have a girl so she could give her all the love and care that her father never showed her.

She named her Mieko.

Sevika didn’t know who the father was before now.

And even though Mieko was but a newborn, she knew.

This baby belonged to her father.

The next morning was a rush.

Sev wanted to get to your mom’s as soon as possible. She didn’t say anything about last night aside from asking if your nose had bled any more after she fell asleep, and you didn’t mention it either.

But the cloud still hung.

You noticed her fiddling with the two shell casings that hung from the same chain as her wedding ring. Every so often her hand would stray up to her neckline, fingers practically searching for the items that sat just beneath the fabric of her shirt. Each time you just gave her mech hand a little squeeze, kissing the back of it just the same as you would her flesh hand.

She was thankful you didn’t pry. You never did, actually. Sure, you knew what the casings held within them, and even more you knew exactly what it meant when she started to play with them, but you didn’t bother her about it. You gave her breath and space to grieve in her own way, never pushing for answers, never making her feel weak for showing her sadness. It was one of the many reasons she loved you so much.

Naturally, the somber mood slowly started to lift the closer the two of you got to your mother’s place of residence. You knew Sev was only mostly trying to distract herself, but you also knew how much she and your mother adored one another.

Presently, she was still fiddling with that chain of hers, rubbing the casings between her fingers as she spoke, “D’you think she’ll try and keep us here if it turns out we’re just having a baby?”

“As if you’d be opposed. The way you two act, people would swear I was the one who married in.”

She chuckled, sticking her tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because moms prefers me. I’m just that guy.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully mushing her in the face, “Literally die. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again.”

“Or what?”

“No booty.”

“What?!” She cried incredulously, immediately on her knees, “C’mon, mama, you know I was just playing. ‘M sorry...” she trailed, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you as you pulled her up by her chin, being sure to press your lips to hers when she got close enough before she was once again standing over you, “You gotta be nice to me, okay? I’m 65 percent sure mom wrote me out of her will to put you in it.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before leaning down to kiss you once more, “Oh, please, even if she did you already know I’d just give it all to you anyway.”

“True, true.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Hell yeah. If you end up not being pregnant we’ll just try again when we get home... so long as you’re not dying or something.”

“What if I was?”

“Don’t make me beat your ass, dreamy.”

You gasped dramatically, “You tryna eat my ass?!”

“I most certainly would hope not.”

The two of you immediately forgot about the little argument that was about to start as you both raced to get to your mom first from where she stood on her porch.

“Mommy,” you exclaimed as you launched yourself into her arms.

She let out a dramatized grunt as she wrapped you up in her embrace, squeezing you tightly, “I wish you’d have told me you were coming before I felt you. Would’ve made your favorites.”

“Sorry, it was kind of an emergency.”

Sevika cut in, tugging you out of the way, “Yeah, kinda like you hogging moms right now.”

Your mother snickered, squeezing Sev just the same, “You two need to be nice and stop fighting over me all the time. You both know that I love you equally.”

“But Sev’s not even-”

“What did I just say, gummy?”

You huffed, folding your arms as you grumbled under your breath, “I can’t stand either of you.”

When the two finally released each other, your mother turned her attention back to you, raising a brow, “Sevi, baby, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, moms.”

“Go to the garden and gather the vegetables I’ll need for stir fry, please. I’ll be in the kitchen after I finish with this one,” she requested, eyes never leaving you as she seemed to be scrutinizing you. Sev left with a kiss to your cheek and another to your mom’s temple before she practically skipped away into the garden like the overgrown kid she really was.

“Do you have something you wanna tell me?”

“What do you mean, ma?”

“You’re choosing that card? Step into my office, gummy.”

You bit your lip as you followed after her into her home office, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, “I swear to you, I don’t think I’ve got anything worse than a cold-”

“Sit down,” she instructs, not looking to play these games with you. You shut up immediately, sitting back as she takes your vitals, “Last period?”

“9 weeks ago.”

“6 weeks late, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking and-”

“Did you know I’ve been dreaming about fish for a month now? Tiny little fish swimming around with tadpoles.”

You looked up at her as she handed you a cup, “Seriously, ma? I’m literally your only gay child.”

She raised a brow, “What does that have to do with me? Piss. I’m testing everyone, it hasn’t just been you.”

“So you tested Ky?”

“Sure did.”

You rolled your eyes the moment your back was turned, a slipper promptly smacking you in the back of the head, “Ow! I didn’t even say anything.”

“You rolled your eyes and you were grumbling in your head about me making your brother take a pregnancy test. Obviously, I tested his wife, genius.”

You smacked, rubbing the back of your head, “I didn’t even-” she raised her other slipper and you promptly shut your mouth before grabbing her slipper from earlier, handing it back to her. “I started getting the nosebleeds,” you mumbled softly.

She looked up from her clipboard, voice and eyes softer than before, “Dear, why you know-”

“That it means I’m pregnant? Yeah... I know...”

She set her things aside, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh my little girl... all grown up... about to have a little girl of her own.”

You chuckled through the tears that had begun to fall, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet. Not even close to finding that out.”

She waved your argument away, rubbing your back, “Did you forget who your mother is?”

You didn’t answer, holding her a little tighter. Your mom softened, voice quiet as she questioned, “What’s wrong, gummy?”

“I’m scared...”

“Of?”

“All of it.... being a mom... having a kid in the heart of Zaun... what if... what if Sevika falls out of love with me? Or I fuck up and lose the baby somehow? Or-”

“Excuse me? I know this isn’t how I raised you to think.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts. You’re scared of being a mom? Comes with the territory. You’re scared of having your kid in the heart of Zaun? Guess what, baby girl, that’s where my mom had me, and look at how I turned out. You think you’ll somehow breathe wrong and lose the baby, I already know because I know you- you won’t. I’ll check you two out properly before you guys go back home just to be sure everything is fine and in working order with you and your body and the baby.”

“As for Sevika? Sweet girl, if you think that girl is going anywhere away from you, then you clearly have a lot of learning to do. She looks at you like you’re the very air she needs to breathe; as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars just for her. That girl loves you even more than I do, and you’re my baby,” she chimed, playfully pinching your cheek, “Make no mistake, there’s nothing that could make her fall out of love with you. Not this one. And by Janna, if she does- call me.”

You chuckled through your tears, letting out a little sigh, “I got this?”

She gave you a kiss to your forehead, “Yes, sweet girl. You’ve got this. And I’ll be here the whole time, okay? And you’ve got a wife that loves you... You’ll be okay. And if you ever want to move back up here at any time during your pregnancy or after, let me know. My door is always open, you know this.”

“I know....”

The two of you stood like that for a good while before you mumbled, “Mommy?”

“Yes, gummy?”

“Thank you.”

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she held you a little tighter, “Anything for my girl. I’ll keep the news to myself so you can tell my other daughter, alright?”

“Thanks... I love you.”

She planted an audible kiss to your forehead, “Of course, little one. I love you more. Now clean that pretty little face and get yourself together. I’ll tell your wife you’re using the bathroom while we get dinner going, okay?”

You let out a happy little sigh, giving your mother one last good squeeze, “Thanks, mommy.”

She gave your stomach a little pat before turning to leave, “Don’t take too long or you know she’ll come find you. Also, you have a cold, sit your ass on the couch when you come out and don’t you dare set foot in my kitchen, you hear?”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be out in a second.”

The door closed behind her and you placed a hand on your stomach letting out a little breath, “Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell your mom about you, angel.”

2 years.

Sevika had been hiding her daughter from her father successfully for 2 years.

She doesn’t know how he found her. She didn’t know then and, to this day, she doesn’t know now.

She’d returned to her childhood home from a day of “work”, heart falling from her stomach as Mieko came tottering to her, wrapping around her leg.

For the longest time, fear was the only word she could use to describe that day, but no... it was something more than that. Sevika wasn’t just afraid. She was horrified. Petrified even.

How long had her daughter been alone with her father? How did he find her? How long had he known about her? Was this his first time coming into contact with her?

A million questions and terrible scenarios ran through her mind, the soft pat of her daughter’s hand on her leg pulling her from the slow descent into panic. She couldn’t help but smile at her baby, picking her up and smothering her in kisses as the little girl dissolved into giggles. She could feel her father’s eyes watching her every move.

“You take her to the back room.” His voice was gruff as always, words short and to the point.

Sevika froze. She knew what was coming for her if she let go of her daughter and faced him alone. She didn’t move, arms clutching onto her child as her heart raced even faster than her thoughts.

There had to be a way out of this.

Her father hated repeating himself. His anger was palpable, a churning storm ready to roll through the house as he slammed his fist down, “Back room, now!”

The loud noise and his elevated voice scared Mieko. She started crying. He hates crying.

Sevika slowly backed toward the front door, holding a crying Mieko to her chest as she tried to quiet her.

Wrong.

Her father was in front of her in an instant, large hands reaching for Mieko. Sevika went to turn around, run back out the door, only to have her face smashed into it, her daughter torn from her arms by his other hand. He shook the crying child, screaming at her to shut up.

Disoriented with blurry vision, Sevika stood on unsure feet, trying to reach for her daughter back.

She felt that familiar tiny hand clutch her finger for the briefest of moments before a shot rang out.

She saw red.

Sevika’s hand strayed to the shell casings around her neck frequently throughout dinner, her eyes misty and sort of far away. Your mother looked to you, wondering what was up with her daughter in law, but you waved off her concern, stroking your thumb over Sevika’s thigh in a show of silent comfort each time she withdrew from the conversation.

After dinner was finished and the dishes had been put away, your mother left for bed with a kiss to each of your foreheads. You sat on the couch with your wife, rolling a cigar for her as she curled around you, her flesh hand at your stomach, tracing patterns over the bit of skin poking from beneath your top.

You placed the ‘gar between your lips, lighting it before taking a hit and holding it out for your wife.

She took it, not hitting it, but studying it before she took a hit, sighing upon her exhale of the smoke.

“How are you feelin’,” you asked softly, playing with her semi-wavy hair that had been freed from the braids and pigtails you’d made the night prior.

“Stressed... worried...” she trailed off, voice falling quieter as she passed the blunt back to you, “sad...”

“Where do you wanna start?”

She shrugged, unwrapping herself from around you to sit up beside you, “Dunno... it’s all just a lot right now...”

You leaned your head on her shoulder, taking a couple more hits of the blunt before you passed it back to her, taking up interest in her mech hand as you started to fiddle with the metal, “Okay.... what’s got you stressed?”

“Everything...”

“But in particular at this moment?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, eyes clouding over again. You gave her mech hand a squeeze, whispering gently, “Hey...”

“Hm?”

“You keep leaving me... Talk to me...”

“Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?”

Her mom.

You gave a small nod, “Entirely possible.”

“It’s like.... this longing... But it’s more than that because how can you long for something you never truly had? Even worse to miss someone who... who’s not here anymore because of you...”

Her last sentence was like a ghost, the words dissipating the moment they left her lips.

“Sevi...”

“It’s fine, I’m-”

“No, you aren’t, baby... And you don’t have to be. It’s okay to not be okay... But I wish you’d stop faulting yourself for that...”

She let out a sigh, holding the blunt out for you, “I know... Just.... can we talk about something else? Or just cuddle and smoke?”

You nodded as you took another hit, “We can do that.”

The silence that fell was comfortable, the two of you sharing the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but a roach left. You leaned to place it in the ashtray on the coffee table before moving to lay aginst Sev’s chest.

Your body was buzzing. It had been a while since you last smoked and you felt that familiar sensation of both floating and sinking into your wife’s body as you lay atop her, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, flesh hand trazing lazy patterns along your spine.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at her, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, but not really- she was thinking.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you whispered.

Her grin was immediate as she moved her vision down to you, those silver orbs darkened in her high state, “You think so?”

You nodded, curling further into her as you closed your own eyes, “So pretty... I hope the baby gets your eyes.”

Sevika is known for being a woman who revels in violence.

The Scary lady of Zaun.

She’s the one who kicks ass and takes names- no questions.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The shot flipped a switch in her.

To be quite honest, she’s not sure what exactly killed him.

Maybe it was her beating him.

Maybe it was her bashing his skull into the wall.

Maybe she’d broken his ribs with her kicks, punctured a lung or even better his heart.

She didn’t know.

But when the rage had settled and her father lie dead on the floor, she saw her little girl.

She crumpled, those tears she’d been holding back for so long in her life ripped from her as she held her girl in her arms.

Those tiny fingers wrapped around her pinky for the last time, matching silver orbs growing dim as Mieko took her final breath in her mother’s arms.

Sevika’s heart stopped in her chest as she froze beneath you.

You sat up, looking down to find her eyes glossed over, a single tear escaping, “Sev?”

Her eyes were wide, heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to burst from it as she just barely managed to speak, “You... you’re...”

You took her hands, nodding as you whispered, “Yeah, baby... I’m pregnant.”

You were holding back tears of your own. You’d only seen your wife cry once, and that was on your wedding day. Sevika crying was as rare as you getting a nosebleed.

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears as they fell. She seemed frozen, eyes faraway again as she whispered feebly, “You...”

Sevika didn’t know what to say. She had dreamed about this moment, played it out a million different ways in her head. She just knew she’d wrap you up in her arms, a mess of kisses and giggles. But now that it was here, the two of you under the light of the fire in your mom’s living room, she was stuck.

Her eyes focused on you as you spoke, tears in your eyes, “Hey, come back to me? You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay.

“You’re pregnant...” she whispered, still sounding like she didn’t believe it.

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding as you leaned in to kiss a line down her nose, ending with her lips, “We made a baby, Sev...”

There were stars in her eyes as she stared at you. She was never one for flowery language, she’d tried, but she always stumbled over her words or felt like she’d just come off cheesy. Her hands moved to your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your stomach as she looked up at you, “We did...”

“We’re gonna be parents...”

“We are...” she whispered, her words thick as she blinked away a fresh batch of tears.

You didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she tucked her face into the crook of your neck. If you felt her tears soak through your shirt, you didn’t say anything, fingers combing through her hair as you rocked softly.

Sevika was swimming through her thoughts in her mind. She was petrified and ecstatic at the same time, but the fear seemed to overtake the happiness by an astounding wave, causing her to press further into you. You simply wrapped your arms tighter around her, pressing a kiss into her hair as you rubbed her back to keep her grounded.

Her mind was running about a million miles a minute. Flashbacks of her own pregnancy, her labor and delivery in that cramped alley... the few moments of peace and happiness shared with her daughter.... Mieko’s eyes as the life leaked from them...

Then she thought about you. The life the two of you have settled into together. The day that started all of this when the two of you decided to try for a baby. About all the shit you’ve had to put up with thus far and all the things to come.

She pulled back to look at you, silver eyes glistening still in the lowlight, pupils blown as she found her voice, whispering under her breath, “Thank you...”

Your eyes caught on your mother, a soft smile on your face as she mouthed, “I told you so.”

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr @archangeldyke-all @fyeahnix

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bigairplaneblog · 4 months ago

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Who Invented Big Airplanes: The Minds Behind the Giants of the Sky

Do you know how the big airplanes were invented? It's a fascinating story that spans decades of innovation, engineering breakthroughs, and sheer determination. Big airplanes, also known as large aircraft models, have become a cornerstone of modern aviation, revolutionizing how we travel and connect with the world. But who were the brilliant minds that brought these aviation models to life?

The journey of the big airplane model began in the early 20th century when aviation pioneers first dreamed of creating aircraft that could carry more passengers and cargo over longer distances. It was a time of intense experimentation and competition, with inventors and engineers racing to build the next big thing in aviation.

One of the key figures in the invention of big airplanes was Igor Sikorsky. Born in Kyiv, Ukraine, in 1889, Sikorsky was an aviation visionary who designed the world’s first multi-engine airplane, the Russky Vityaz, in 1913. This aircraft model was groundbreaking because it demonstrated that it was possible to create a large airplane model with multiple engines, which was essential for carrying heavier loads and flying longer distances. The success of the Russky Vityaz paved the way for the development of even larger aircraft, leading to Sikorsky’s later designs, like the Ilya Muromets, which became the world’s first four-engine bomber.

But Sikorsky wasn’t alone in his quest to build big airplanes. In the United States, Donald Wills Douglas Sr. played a crucial role in the evolution of large airplane models. Douglas founded the Douglas Aircraft Company in 1921, and it wasn’t long before his company became synonymous with innovation in aviation. One of the most significant contributions from Douglas was the DC-3, introduced in 1935. This airplane model revolutionized air travel with its ability to carry 21 passengers in comfort, a feat previously unheard of in commercial aviation. The DC-3 set the standard for modern aircraft and remains one of the most iconic aviation models ever created.

Another major milestone in the history of big airplanes came with the Boeing 747, often referred to as the "Queen of the Skies." The 747 was the brainchild of Joe Sutter, an engineer at Boeing, who led the team that designed this enormous aircraft. First flown in 1969, the Boeing 747 was a true game-changer, capable of carrying more than 400 passengers across the globe. This large airplane model not only made international travel more accessible but also solidified Boeing’s position as a leader in the aviation industry. The 747 remains one of the most successful aircraft models, with variants still flying today.

These early innovators laid the groundwork for the modern giants of the sky we see today. Today, the Airbus A380 holds the title of the largest passenger airplane model ever built. Introduced in 2007, the A380 can carry over 800 passengers in an all-economy configuration. The development of this behemoth required a multinational effort, with teams from across Europe contributing to its design and construction. The A380 represents the pinnacle of what large airplane models can achieve, offering unparalleled capacity and comfort for long-haul flights.

The invention of big airplanes wasn’t just about building larger aircraft; it was about pushing the boundaries of what was possible in aviation. These pioneers didn’t just create bigger planes; they created new opportunities for people to connect, explore, and experience the world in ways that were once unimaginable.

As aviation continues to evolve, the legacy of those who invented big airplanes lives on. From Sikorsky’s early experiments to the modern marvels of Boeing and Airbus, these aircraft models have forever changed the face of travel. So the next time you board a flight, take a moment to appreciate the incredible history behind the big airplane model that’s carrying you to your destination. The sky’s the limit, thanks to the visionaries who dared to dream big.

#aviation #aircraft #airplane model #aircraft model #airplane

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nburkhardt · 2 years ago

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Somebody loves you, you got a friend (part 6)

Other parts: one, two, three, four, five

Again, please ignore whatever doesn’t seem accurate to real life. It is omegaverse after all 😅 also I didn’t think I’d ever share this but here we are! (Also heads up: not only does this jump around but at some point we switch from Steve’s pov to Eddie’s pov) Timeline? Idk what that is. Don’t think about it!

He ignores Nancy and Jonathan at school, avoids Billy and Tommy. Joins Eddie at his table at lunch, gains friendships with Eddie’s friends and once they’re behind the doors of the drama room for Hellfire, admit their relationship is more than just friends.

Eventually he doesn’t necessarily drop out of school, more so, leaves Hawkins High and finishes at home while being tutored instead. But the rumor at the school is he dropped out because of Billy Hargrove taking over the “king” status.

When in reality, he’s six months along and although not that big, it’s very obvious that he’s pregnant. So, he sticks to staying at home while wearing larger clothes. He’s not embarrassed, and neither is Eddie.

They just decided it was safer this way, especially after Steve admitted how much Billy kept trying to fight him.

Steve still goes around town, he knows at least some of the people in town noticed him acting strange or looking heavier, but luckily it’s not at the high school.

After some convincing and a long talk with both their parents, Eddie moved in with Steve with the promise of always visiting Wayne; weekly dinners, Janet also makes one of their guest rooms into a semi-permanent bedroom for Wayne.

It’s been a wild ride for him and Eddie. They had a few arguments and usually it was just blown out of proportion. The biggest one was Eddie running late to the appointment where they found out the gender and it wasn’t even Eddie’s fault (got detention from some asshole lying about him cheating and the fucking teacher believed it) and it took a week and his mom talking with him before Steve even allowed Eddie back inside the house.

Besides the few arguments, they were doing good and after the week Steve refused letting Eddie in, the two of them were nearly attached at the hip. They weren’t allowed to mate each other until both of them were eighteen. A rule set by Janet and Wayne.

Not that it stops them from doing whatever else to be the mates they’re definitely going to be. Eddie leaves marks all over Steve whenever possible, Steve’s scent is nearly gone in favor of Eddie’s and then when Steve’s really feeling clingy, Eddie smells exactly like Steve.

Currently, the couple is in bed and happily scenting each other. Eddie has a hand underneath Steve’s shirt, feeling the movement from the baby. The omega hums happily and rests his head back onto the alpha’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a smile as the baby kicks just light enough that it doesn’t bother him and for Eddie to feel it.

“God, I’ll never get over this” Eddie whispers and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple, “Just so insane”

Steve laughed and cuddled closer, chasing Eddie’s warmth while moving his hand to follow the light kicks, “I still think it’s weird.” He whispers back, letting his eyes fall shut and his breath evening out.

That’s how Janet finds them a few hours later for dinner, Eddie curled around Steve with his hand still over the baby bump. Smiling softly, instead of waking them, she just pulls their blankets over them and shut off the light.

——————

The baby is born in the middle of August, and shortly after Steve turns seventeen.

Between Eddie and his mom, he’s not panicking as much as he thought he would when they found out. Still, as he’s walking around the hospital room with Eddie, all he can think of is how stupid and all the pain he feels. “I don’t know how you did this, mom”

She’s sitting on the window sill, laughing.

“Oh Sweetie, I was in labor with you for fourteen hours. You’ve only been at this for two,” she doesn’t bother looking at him, “But just know that at the end, you’ll have a beautiful and healthy little baby girl”

It continues on for another five hours, then when the date turns from the 17th to the 18th, a healthy baby girl is born.

Eleanor Janet Munson.

His mom tears up when he says the baby’s name in a tired and raspy voice, Steve waits until the nurses and doctors leave to say more. “I know you said no apologies, but I really am sorry momma. For not being safe, for- for throwing this curveball” he looks down at Eleanor, “adorable curveball”

Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to his head, “I’m sorry too” he whispers.

Steve shook his head and then Janet laughs, causing both boys to look at her. She sighs, squeezing Steve’s shoulder before placing a kiss on his forehead. “You both need to stop apologizing. I’m not upset, well, maybe a little for making me a grandmother so young. Eleanor is beautiful and I’ll be right here helping you both figure out this life with her.”

——————

School starts back up when Eleanor is a month old, and unfortunately, Eddie is back in his senior year despite all the tutoring.

“I’m just saying, I think the teachers are out to get me!” Eddie’s ranting as he gets dressed, roughly pulling on a shirt, “they keep coming up with excuses! I know what I’m doing, you helped me! Hell, your tutor, what’s his face helped a whole lot!”

Steve’s currently sitting up against the headboard, feeding Eleanor. A smile on his face, despite Eddie’s mood. “Eds, maybe it was all the ditching you did?”

The alpha spins around pointing at him with a blush speeding its way across his face. “N-no! I had good reasons for ditching! The teachers at Hawkins high are just assholes”

Shaking his head, he smiles up as Eddie steps closer to the bed, “hm, i’ll give you that one. But hey at least that dickhead Hargrove is gone, right? Plus you can recruit new members for hellfire”

Two of the four current Hellfire members are graduating this year, and Eddie is letting Gareth DM for the first time. Eddie’s been more occupied with them and not paying much attention to anything else. Of all the members, only Gareth knew about Eleanor.

That was by accident on their part. It was Wayne’s turn to host dinner and so they were all over at the trailer, Gareth had only shown up to talk about their band. Eddie had opened the door and at the same time, Eleanor had started crying.

In a panic, Eddie pulled his friend inside and was brought into the knowledge of their baby.

All Gareth had to say was, “you know, of all the rumors I heard, none of them were like this.

It then caused a chain reaction of finding out all the current rumors surrounding Steve and Eddie. Only to end the night with Gareth promising to keep it a secret for now

Anyway, back to now; Eddie ranting about how shitty it is that he’s doing senior year a fucking third time.

“Go find new blood for your nerd game, enjoy some time away from our cranky newborn.” Steve winks before pulling Eleanor away from him, “Ellie, tell daddy it’ll be fine”

Eddie gently takes her from him and snuggles her close, gently scenting and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’ll be torture, princess. But I guess your mama is right”

Steve stands and wraps his arms around the alpha and scenting him, “it’ll be fine, then when you’re done. We’ll be here”

Within twenty minutes of being at the school, he’s gained a total of four new members of Hellfire. He ignores their questions and just tells them the time and room before quickly finding Gareth to tell him about it.

“A warning, got new members for Hellfire already. Hope that campaign is big enough to include four new freshmen” he all but whispers against his friend’s ear and laughs hard when he jumps.

Gareth glares, closing his locker, “you’re getting too good at that”

Laughing, Eddie claps his friend on the shoulder, “gotta be quick and quiet when you got a newborn” he whispers again then pulls away, “seriously though, got new blood for hellfire.”

Gareth rolls his eyes and pulled Eddie along with him to their class, “These new blood, got any names?”

Groaning and hitting his forehead, Eddie lets out a frustrated huff, “Didn’t get the names, all freshman though. I think I recognized one of them but I don’t know how, the last year I’ve been busy with Stevie”

“Damn, so it’s a surprise for all of us.” Gareth snorts, “how is Stevie by the way? Haven’t seen either of you for a bit”

That causes Eddie to happily tell Gareth everything he can without letting the big secret slip. Doesn’t hurt that they’re still outcasts and freaks, so everyone ignores them.

The rest of Eddie’s day surprisingly goes by smoothly except for gym when he bumps into Jason Carver, the new it boy of Hawkins High. The younger alpha snaps at him and unoriginally spits at him, “Step away, Freak!”

Currently he’s whistling as he makes his way to the drama room for Hellfire, he’s already planning on cutting the clubs meeting short. He really wants to get back home to Steve and Eleanor.

As he reaches the door he’s surprised to see Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers waiting near the door, he stops short. Clearing his throat, causing both of them to jump.

“Why are you standing outside of the drama room?”

Nancy crosses her arms, “Our brothers said someone invited them to a club, you that someone?”

Then it clicks, why one looked so familiar, “huh, you know you and your brother could pass as twins?”

He doesn’t wait for a comeback and walks into the room not even bothering if they follow him in, he’s surprised to see more than those four he invited. From the looks of it, they’re joined by two girls. The red head looks familiar too, “hello, I see you multiplied”

Gareth snorts and Eddie smiles wide as everyone else is confused, the red head is staring at him like she’s trying to figure something out. The other girl is quietly whispering to Nancy’s brother and the kid with the Weird Al shirt is smiling wide.

“I’m Eddie Munson, welcome to Hellfire. Where we welcome all and everyone who’s a lost sheep in this big bad world called high school” He grins, “I’m usually the DM. But I’ve been a little busy,” that causes Gareth to snort again and he glares over at his friend before turning his attention back to the freshmen, “Gareth is DMing for now, he’s got a whole campaign cooked up already.”

“Munson? Like Wayne Munson?” The redhead cuts in, “I’ve seen you before”

He pauses and looks at her, “how do you know my uncle?”

“I’m his new neighbor,” she then looks between him and the other freshmen, opening then closing her mouth and then shook her head, “anyway, I don’t play your nerd game”

Raising an eyebrow, “then why are you here?”

“You invited the nerds, we tend to stick together”

Nodding, he then looks between the other freshmen and that causes a chain reaction of them introducing themselves.

There’s: Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair and then Max Mayfield and lastly Jane Hopper. Only the boys play but apparently they’re a party and never far from each other. And according to Will, their siblings are part of the package.

“Great” he says with a tight smile, “let’s cut today short, I gotta go. We meet every Friday after school, those who want to can play, the rest can hang out”

He doesn’t wait for many replies, and just bursts through the door. Sending a salute to the older Wheeler and Byers before making his way out of the school.

Soo, we jumped around a bit. Just wanted to move things along a bit because I didn’t want to linger on the pregnancy part lol. I hope you’re like me and just…ignores timelines. Because I definitely didn’t consider it whatsoever. Currently it’s September and Eleanor (Steddie’s baby) is a month old. Btw I imagine she has Steve’s nose, Eddie’s face shape, Eddie’s eyes and light brown curls. She’s fucking adorable and has everyone wrapped around her tiny finger already 😌

ANYWAY, Upside Down events: I’m just gonna say I’m completely ignoring it now. Mostly because Steddie’s not involved. If you want you can say it still all happens but they’re just not involved or be like me and think it’s done. This is supposed to be a slice of life fic with honestly no plot just me being sappy with my fav boys.

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings @tartarusfairy @mx-jinxous @zombiethingy @lunaticmarunatic @izzy2210 @carlyv @thelittleclare @estrellami-1 @sierra-violet @grtwdsmwhr @epiclazershark @bookworm0690 @forest-fogg @flustratedcas @p0lybl4nkk @tiny-enthusiast @a-gae-af-racoon @blackpanzy (if you want to be added to this let me know, I’ll add you!)

#steddie #steddie fic #omega steve harrington #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o fic #mpreg #nburkhardt writes #steve x eddie #stranger things fic #guess who found out we can use read more on mobile 🥳

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usafphantom2 · 5 months ago

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America’s Mach 3+ fighter, Bill Sweetman investigates

Hush KitFebruary 23, 2017

August 2, 2024

HOLY KEDLOCK by Bill Sweetman

If speed and range are your goals for an interceptor, you can’t beat the Lockheed YF-12. It’s hard to beat as a confusing story either. Technology demonstrator? Stalking horse for something quite different? Opportunistic effort to save a program in trouble? Possibly, all of the above.

North American’s F-108 Rapier Mach 3 interceptor was cancelled in September 1959. The F-108 was only eight months past mock-up review, following an on-again, off-again initial development. But the Rapier’s ASG-18 radar and GAR-9 missile combo, developed by Hughes, had started earlier than the F-108 itself and enjoyed more consistent support, and was not canceled along with the aircraft.

A few months later, in January 1960, the CIA awarded Lockheed a contract to build 12 A-12s. They would be purely photo birds, with a single pilot and one camera bay, and the goal was to operate them out of Area 51, thereby evading the British and German anoraks who had rumbled the U-2.

On May 1, 1960, Frank Powers’ U-2 was shot down near Sverdlovsk. No parades or hot hors d’oeuvres for him. Eisenhower approved a cover story that Khrushchev shot to smaller pieces than the airplane. The furious President banned any further overflights.

This left OXCART without a mission, barely six months into an expensive program, without a mission, and competing for money with the politically favored CORONA. Skunk Works boss Kelly Johnson proposed armed versions of the OXCART to the Air Force. It was risky because Air Force Chief of Staff Curtis LeMay was mounting a stalwart defense the XB-70 Valkyrie, but the interceptor version did not threaten the bomber. A contract was issued in October 1960 under which three A-12s would be completed as AF-12 interceptors with the F-108’s Hughes radar and missile system.

The AF-12, codenamed KEDLOCK, would feature some important differences from the CIA jets. Heavier and carrying more fuel, it would have a second cockpit replacing the camera bay, the massive ASG-18 radar in the nose, and four large weapon bays built into all-metal chines. (On the A-12, the chines were purely there to reduce the radar cross-section and were partly made of plastic material.) The GAR-9 was a 900-pound chonky boi and could carry either a high-explosive or blast-fragmentation warhead, with a range at launch up to 100 nm.

KEDLOCK benefited from the A-12 OXCART, which ran a year earlier and wrestled with the many basic problems of titanium use and propulsion development, and from the early start on ASG-18 and GAR-9. Wind tunnel tests showed that the huge ogival radome loused up the directional stability, so KEDLOCK acquired strakes under each engine nacelle and a large folding ventral fin.

Launching a weapon from a bay at Mach 3.2 was a challenge. Johnson’s deputy, Ben Rich, later said that the initial GAR-9 ejection system resulted in the missile passing between the front and rear cockpits, which would have been bad.

Flown in August 1963, the interceptor required little further work. Six out of seven missile shots were successful, the final shot from Mach 3.2 and 74,000 feet hitting a low-flying QB-47 drone—the first look-down, shoot-down interception and a trailblazer for the Navy’s AWG-9 and AIM-54 Phoenix programs.

KEDLOCK did a lot of the heavy lifting for the next version of the Blackbird, a reconnaissance-strike aircraft. First called RS-12, the project ran about a year behind KEDLOCK and emerged as the SR-71, with weapon bays converted to accommodate cameras and SIGINT gear.

The AF-12 had one more mission: deception. During 1963, as the pace of testing increased, observers started to notice the fast-moving A-12s and AF-12s, and the usual CIA/USAF tactic of confusing their reports with UFO sightings wore thin. Also, the project was far larger than the U-2 and involved more people and subcontractors, and many people in industry began to connect the dots. Bob Hotz’s staff at Aviation Week went to the Air Force with the news. Hotz would hold the story but not if anyone else got near it.

McNamara decided that the interceptor could be unveiled without compromising the A-12, and his view prevailed over the CIA’s caution. On February 24, 1964, two side-view photos were released of what was falsely described as the Lockheed A-11, and Johnson announced that a number of A-11s were being tested at Edwards Air Force Base. To keep the facts consistent with the President’s statement, two AF-12s were rushed from Area 51 to Edwards and quickly rolled into a hangar, where the heat from their airframes set the sprinklers off.

Had there been anything for it to shoot down, the YF-12 (as it was retrospectively designated, sometime before August 1964) might have been the ultimate interceptor. But the Soviet intercontinental strike force, even into the 1980s, amounted to a small and dwindling number of early Tu-95s, which Air Defense Command’s F-106s could cope with, and the YF-12s lived out their days as NASA test assets.

@Hushkit.net

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 7 months ago

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 22

And here's the final chapter of Part 2! Thank you to all who have taken the journey with me so far, I'm trying to make the slow pace as worth it as possible (even though it's taken me over a year to start the actual plotline *sweats*) Chances are I'll disappear for a while again, but that'll be because I'll be putting my all into Part 3. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 5622

Warnings: Swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 // Part 3

Part 2: Chapter 22 -

Rearranging furniture.

Psithurism (Definition): The sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves. (Noun / Origin: Ancient Greek /sith-yuh-riz-uhm)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Saturday, 23rd April 2941 of the Third Age (Monday, 3rd Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)

11 MONTHS LATER

“WOAH, Griffo! I told you not to go for the head!” I yelled, watching the small hobbit child scamper into the bushes with his wooden sword, giggling to himself. Letting out a harsh sigh, I marched off after the troublemaker.

Almost a whole year had passed since Bertie had found those horses in the field, and eight months when he had officially declared them ours, shoving the oversized reigns he had found into our hands the second he had found them. We rode them whenever we had the time, learning the reigns – literally – though it took a lot of getting used to. It was difficult in the beginning, trying to understand how the two animals ticked, and how we were to balance on them; I had only ever ridden a horse two or three times during my life on Earth, and I didn’t even know about Kay, so this was a whole new experience for the both of us. But we learnt, and now Hecate and Calhourn were a perfect addition to our growing group.

It wasn’t just that, there were also physical changes. We hadn’t grown, no, but our bodies were changing.

Despite my chronic habit to sleep in for as long as possible, we had kept up with the exercises and training Seathan had drilled into our minds. Our muscles had developed, not extremely, but enough to be seen by the weight we had lost. Not only were we thinner, leaner, but also fitter. I personally was no longer losing my breath after about 20 minutes of hardcore exercise. Our hair had grown longer; we trimmed it a few times to rid of any split ends, and I had Gladiola cut my fringe and curtain bangs back in a few times, but the rest of my straight brown tresses were now reaching my lower back, and Kay’s copper waves reached her elbows. With our earnings from work, we had also paid Gladiola for some new outfits, and our wardrobes were getting fuller by the month.

On the topic of magic. After almost a year and a half, from getting our wands to practicing it in ‘our’ clearing, we had a several spells memorised between us, and a larger amount written down in my growing grimoire and spell books. The shelves in my room had filled, jars of herbs and other random ingredients that could be used in the cauldron Kay had gifted me for my birthday.

Despite the short amount of time, we had also increased our skills in sword-fighting, having upgraded from the wooden swords to the blunt steel ones, becoming familiar with wielding the heavier versions, and hopefully to the real thing once we paid Seathan another visit.

Right now, we were in the clearing, accompanied by Mrs Greenfoot’s kids. Menegilda was shyly letting Kay show her how to upper-swing with the wooden sword in her hand, along with her much more excitable younger sister, Berylla, who was currently spinning in circles as she flailed her own sword around. I was managing the other five as they pretended to battle each other, the boys – Rothad, Griffo and Madoc – against me and the other two girls – Melba and Lalia.

Us girls were winning. Until Griffo decided to adopt guerilla warfare tactics.

“Griffo I need you to stay in my sight. It’s your mum’s rules after all!” I called out, trying to peer through the leaves and branches of the bushes.

“He just wants you to follow him so he can scare you.” Said a young voice, and I looked down when I registered the feeling of a tiny hand gripping my knee, to see Lalia peering up at me with an exasperated look. Turning to the bushes, she raised her voice. “Griffo! We’re leaving without you and I’m telling mummy you ran off by yourself and broke a rule!” When she was met with silence, she called out again. “AND I’LL TELL TURPIN TO NOT INVITE YOU TO HIS BIRTHDAY PARTY!”

A moment of silence passed. But nothing could be heard apart from the chirping birds and the light wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

With a sigh, I patted Lalia on the shoulder. “Stay here, I’ll go find him.” And I reluctantly pushed my way through the branches, trying to ignore the way they snagged and scratched at my skin and clothes. Finding a small parting, I carefully knelt down, giving the ground a quick scan as I searched for any thistles or nettles before placing my hands down and began crawling my way through the undergrowth.

Hearing a giggle in the distance ahead, I sighed once again in exasperation and pushed forward. I tried not to hiss whenever I accidentally pressed my hand down on a gnarly fallen branch or thistle, ignoring the tiny beads of blood that grew in number on my palm. Eventually, the bushes began to thin, and it wasn’t long until I was in another clearing. Pushing myself up, I brushed any loose dirt that wasn’t already stuck to my now-stained dungarees, and scanned the area for the small hobbit boy.

“Griffo!” I called. “C’mon this isn’t funny! Your mum’s going to be really upset when she finds out what you did.”

Worry began to settle in my stomach when I was answered once again with silence, and I scanned my eyes over every bush to try and find where he was hidden. There was a tree up ahead, its branches low enough for someone 2-3 feet tall to climb onto, I marched over to it, but was stopped halfway there, frozen in my tracks, when my eyes met some very familiar green ones.

Up on one of the twisting branches, about level with my head, was the black cat, and my mind raced with flashbacks of that night I was chased through the woods, adrenaline beginning to rise as the memories returned.

Taking a cautious step forward, I eyed the cat wearily as it flicked its tail.

“You haven’t taken Griffo this time, have you?” I asked, half-jokingly, my hand unconsciously coming to grasp the wrist where my Grandad’s bracelet was clasped around.

All it did was continue to stare, slitted eyes shifting minutely as they darted slightly over my face, and I went to inch myself closer, arm raising slightly.

But just my luck, the still air was suddenly broken by the sound of a war-cry, the bushes to the side of me shaking violently until Griffo burst out, his sword raised as he charged at my leg, whacking and hacking at whatever he could reach.

“Oh for – Griffo!” I cried, kneeling down to grasp at his small shoulders in attempt to calm him down. “What on Earth were you doing disappearing off like that?!”

The boy soon calmed down, attempting one last slap as he looked up at me through his brown curls with wide eyes.

I sighed. “Look, I’m all for you playing however you want, but you need to do it where I can see you ok?” All he did was stare, so I added on. “If you try something like this again, it’ll be Lobelia Sackville-Baggins that’ll be looking after you from now on.” I stated firmly, giving him a stern look.

This seemed to do the trick, as the boy let out a string of panicked ‘no, no, no!’s as he scurried off back in the direction of the clearing. I went to follow, but paused, turning my head to look back at the cat. Only to be met with an empty branch.

Gone. I was alone once again, the cat had vanished – leaving me with the wind rustling the leaves in the small clearing and the sound of the hobbit boy’s retreating footsteps.

Shaking my head, I jogged to catch up with Griffo, the hobbit thankfully taking a path that allowed me to stand up as we both returned.

When we did, he returned to normal, letting out another battle cry as he charged at Lalia, who was patiently waiting for the two of us. Letting out a squeal, she sprinted away as fast as her little legs would carry her, and the battle between the five rallied up again tenfold.

A quarter of an hour had passed when I found myself on the brink of exhaustion, and Kay had graciously offered to take over the battle, to which I gasped out a thank you, swapping places before I was overrun again by tiny, hyper children, and asking the slightly calmer, elder siblings if they wanted to learn archery.

Crouching behind Menegilda, I watched as she nocked the arrow and pulled it back as much as her strength would allow. It had been about half an hour, and she was yet to hit the target hung on the low branch, the arrows of her previous attempts littering the grass in front of us.

“Ok, just make sure your left arm is straight, and you’ve pulled it so your three fingers are brushing against your right cheek.” I urged gently, watching as she pulled the string back a little further, her arm trembling slightly with the tension. “Your feet are alright, so just make sure you release it as quickly as you can, so your grip doesn’t slow it down.”

With a shaky breath, she gave a slight nod, her large blue eyes remaining focused on the target directly ahead, trying to ignore the curl of hair that the wind brushed over her face. A sharp thwip whipped through the air, the arrow a blur as it crossed the distance. A second passed, and hit the target with a thunk.

Despite the arrow only hitting the outer ring, it was enough for Berylla to let out a whoop of victory from where she stood next to the girl, throwing her arms in the air before embracing her older sister, who returned her enthusiasm with her own shy smile.

“Well done Gilda!” Kay called from across the green as she headed over, the pretend-fight having ended just a minute ago. Leaving the other kids to catch their breath, she approached the three of us, though Menegilda and Berylla soon pattered off, joining their siblings to celebrate Menegilda’s progress. Stood at the edge, we both watched the seven of them chatter away.

“They’re learning well.” Kay commented, huffing in satisfaction.

I hummed in response, prodding at the tiny stab wounds on my palms that had now scabbed over. “As well as we can teach them. But we’ll all get better over time.”

Kay paused in thought, staring at the ground as she leant on the tree behind her, twisting her upper body slightly to face me. “Speaking of time, do you know what day it is?”

My brows twitched into a light frown. “You know what, I really don’t.” I looked over at her. “I forgot to write the date down once around late February and ended up losing track since. Why do you ask?”

She went to open her mouth, but snapped it shut as she regarded me with a look of confusion. “Have you seriously spent over two months not knowing what day it is?”

“I know what day of the week it is!” I shot back, slightly offended. “I just haven’t had the need to know the specifics.”

She sighed. “Maybe you needed to know because of what’s coming?”

I smacked my lips as I realised. “Yeaaa I should’ve kept that in mind.” I muttered regrettably. “The only thing that reminded me to check was the fact that Gandalf and Thorin should’ve already met in the Prancing Pony on the 15th March. To be honest they could all be on their way right now.”

“It could even be today and we’re completely unprepared for it!” hissed Kay quietly, as to not draw the attention of the children metres away.

“You’re not the only one who’s beginning to shit themselves, cause I don’t know when Gandalf is going to show up and if he shows up at all.” I uttered with wide eyes, not hearing the light patter of small feet approach me.

“Shit.” It parroted.

“Huh?” My eyes darted around in confusion, briefly meeting Kay’s as she also scanned the area, though hers quickly landed on something on the other side of me, and I twisted my head, looking down to meet the bright blue and very round eyes of Melba blinking up at me.

“Shit.” She chirped with a toothy grin, her dark curls flopping round her face as she bounced on her feet. Kay snorted from beside me as I immediately began to panic.

“Oh – crap. Mel-Melba! Melba.” I stuttered, dropping to my knees to become eye level with the tiny girl. “That’s a bad word – you can’t say it unless you’re a grown-up.”

She pouted. “But you aren’t a grown up. You only turned nineteen in August!” she protested with a whine.

“That’s because I’m not a Hobbit, darling. We grow up quicker because we’re humans. Promise me you won’t say it?” I pleaded, holding out my pinkie finger as an offering.

A couple seconds passed as the girl glanced between my face and outstretched finger, clearly debating whether or not she was willing to listen. But to my relief, she grinned, hooking her finger with mine, just as we had taught her and her siblings months ago.

“Okay! I won’t say it ever again!” she stated proudly, and she swiftly dashed off to join her siblings, though I highly doubted she would remember her promise for long.

“Wow.” Was all Kay could vocalise from behind me.

“Hush.” I retorted, pushing myself up from the ground. “Let’s head back – it’s still mid-morning so we can ask Bilbo what day it is just in case.” I suggested, trying to change the subject.

Nodding, Kay pushed herself away from the tree, marching across the clearing to where Calhourn and Hecate were roped up munching on the grass by the outskirts. Following suit, I called out for the kids whilst scooping up our weapons, who despite their whining about the session being cut short, they reluctantly trudged over, putting any belongings back in their packs and slinging them over their shoulders.

After much squabbling, the kids worked out who’s turn it was to ride on the horses with us. Madoc and Berylla were victorious, after much debate (and protests from Griffo). The rest ran ahead down the path, screaming battle cries as they brandished their swords, apart from Menegilda who was calmly leading the way as eldest sister as usual.

Keeping to the left of the path, we politely kept our horses out of the way of the locals walking past, who still craned their necks up to glance at the towering animals, then at the wave of loud, lively kids with a nervous or distrustful edge, despite us having taken them around town on numerous occasions – if not all the time.

Whilst trying to keep Berylla from squirming from where she sat in front of me as we rode over one of the bridges, my ears perked up at the sound of my name being called. Turning my head, I watched Kay nudge Calhourn into a brisk trot, hooves clacking against the stone then grass as she lined herself up with me, until we were riding side by side.

“We should probably think about packing as soon as we get back.” She suggested.

“Oh, definitely.” I agreed, failing to realise that we were being listened to by two intrigued children. “I’ll try and see if that undetectable extension charm will work on our bags.”

“Why are you packing??” “Are you leaving us?!” exclaimed Rothad and Berylla, the two of them trying to twist in their spots to face us with wide glossy eyes.

“Nononono, guys it’s fine.” Blurted Kay in an attempt to calm the two before their siblings overheard. “Nothing’s happening, we’re just talking about packing some furniture away, aren’t we Kate?” She eyed me expectantly, and I quickly nodded along.

“Ye-Yea! It’s nothing for you lot to worry about.” I agreed with a shaky laugh.

In the next twenty minutes it took to reach Gladiola’s house, we had spent it trying to convince the two that everything was alright before they fell off the horses in a panic. Eventually the squealing kids we’re received by their father, who ushered them inside, giving us his thanks. Though we could only give a short reply, when Melba had proudly stated to her dad that she had learnt a new word, and we immediately took that as our cue to flick the reigns and canter away as fast as politely possible.

Returning Calhourn and Hecate to the stables, we tossed a quick hello to Bertie, before trudging on foot back up the hill to Bag End.

Reaching the gate, Kay briefly checked the letterbox for mail, and we tiredly hauled ourselves up the stone steps, dropping our bags on the floor and dragging them behind us as I pushed open the large green door.

Wandering further into the house, I waited in the hallway as Kay ran to her room, snatching up her leather backpack, before rejoining me, and the two of us ducked through the hallways, crossing the house until we reached my bedroom.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, the two of us laid our bags out between us, and took our wands out. Reaching over to my bedside table, I grabbed my soon-to-be-full spellbook, the pages now slightly crinkled and unable to lay flat after months of use.

“Ok,” I breathed. “So I’m pretty sure the charm is Capacious Extremis, and we just need to visualise how big we want the space to be.” I explained, Kay nodding along with me. “Now, this is a stupidly complex spell, so the chance of it working first try is low, so we’ll keep doing it until it works.”

With a snort, Kay rolled her eyes. “Or until it backfires and we blow the house up.” She remarked, shifting into a more comfortable position as she picked her wand up and pointed it at her bag.

“Probably.” I shrugged. “What size are you going for?��

“Umm, like probably about the equivalent of three of four large suitcases?” She answered. “And let me guess, you’re expanding yours to the size of a house?” She stated expectantly as she looked down at my briefcase.

I side-eyed her. “No.” I guffawed. “I’m only putting in a few rooms.”

She held back a laugh. “Of course you are.”

The attempts we made to successfully complete the spell were… entertaining, to say the least. At one point, instead of expanding the inside, Kay accidentally expanded the whole bag, the object growing in size so fast it ended up whacking me in the nose, and I spent the next five minutes bent over the bathroom sink as I waited for the blood to clot up as Kay desperately tried not to laugh. I was no better, when sparks ended up flying out the end of my wand during my third attempt, and we both had to quickly flap our arms about to stop them before they landed on the quilt and set it ablaze.

The both of us sighed in relief when nothing extreme happened on Kay’s fifth attempt, unclipping her bag to see that the spell had finally worked, peering down inside to see a space much too big to be physically able to fit in.

Mine worked on the sixth attempt, seeing as I was aiming for a much larger result. Laying the large rucksack on the rug, I unclasped the buttons and zips and swung open the flap, pulling the opening wide to reveal a steep set of wooden steps, leading down to what looked like the inside of a small wooden hut.

“I take it that Newt Scamander’s briefcase was the inspiration for this?” Kay remarked.

I grinned as I gave her a nod, before twisting myself around to reach my foot over the threshold, testing the planks as I cautiously made my way down. As my feet touched the floor, Kay poked her head over, leaning her torso in slightly to have a peek around.

Shuffling about, I inspected the rows of shelves and drawers that lined the walls, pulling my finger at the odd handle to check the space given. Creaks came from behind, as Kay made her own way down, coming to join me as she revered at the results I had luckily achieved. Her eyes landed on a door opposite the ladder, and she stepped towards it. The brass handle was shaped like an outstretched bird’s claw, waiting patiently for someone to grasp it. Turning her head, she silently asked to open it, and I nodded in response, watching as she curled her left hand around the shape, twisting it until the latch gave way and swung the door open.

Inside revealed a short hallway, barely a couple of metres, which led to two further doors with matching handles; one opened to a small room, that looked a bit more like a pantry, with shelves and cupboards lining the walls, along with some brass hooks on the ceiling to hang the odd thing, then a long table in the middle. The other room was quite bare, but had a small wardrobe and chest of drawers attached on one side, and a spindly three-quarter size wooden bedframe on the other with a matching bedside table.

“You’re not planning on sleeping in here?” Kay asked, a little concerned. “Because I think some people might be a bit jealous.”

“Oh, no.” I replied with a shake of my head. “That wouldn’t be fair. I was planning out this layout with the long term future in mind, not just what could potentially happen soon. This is only a backup for some other time.”

She nodded slowly. She spoke, and I hummed in question. “We’re doing some pretty advanced magic right now. We’ve learnt in a year what others would in almost a decade.”

I whirled round to face her. “It’s called being insane at everything.” I grinned.

She scoffed with a matching grin, lifting her hand up, to which I high-fived with my own. “Clearly.”

“Of course.” I answered obviously. “Now, we need to pack asap. Do you know what you’re bringing?” I pointed at her, waiting for an answer.

Kay put her hands on her hips. “Yep. I’m taking the essentials along with some precious keepsakes. And you’re bringing everything but the kitchen sink.”

I glanced around sheepishly. “Pretty much.”

She shook her head, stepping out the room. “I mean, you did prepare for it.” She said, gesturing to what was around her. “Now get cracking, I know how long you take.”

I gave a small salute. “I’ll get on it.”

The call of the early morning birds filtered through the crack of the paned windows as per usual, and as routine, I blinked in an attempt to clear my bleary eyes against the sun rays that glowed against my face as I tried to make out my brown hair in the mirror, running a soft bristled brush through it.

Gently placing it back on the dressing table, I stared emptily into my reflection, fixing the lace collar on my nightgown before pressing my eyes shut, as sleep had yet to lift its hands from my head.

My ears perked up at the sound of my bedroom door being opened, and I slowly turned my head to squint tiredly at whoever was stepping though the doorway.

I watched as Kay made her way over to my bed, already fully washed and dressed as she hauled a pile of random objects onto my bed.

“You’re never up this early.” I groaned, resting my head on my hand as I turned slightly in my seat to face her. “The only time I’ve seen you up before me was to get ready for that 7am flight to France.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She answered as she turned to face me. “Bilbo was up before me to visit the early market, so I took the liberty of nicking some of his stuff.”

Now my eyes were fully open. “You what. Why didn’t you invite me?”

She sat herself down on the quilted duvet. “I did earlier, but all I got was snoring in reply.”

Too tired to retaliate, all I gave was a pouty frown, turning back to the mirror to reach for my mascara that I had remembered – by some miracle – to use the duplication spell on (Geminio – a lifesaver when you realise eyeliner isn’t popular in Middle Earth), otherwise I would have ran out six copies ago.

Brushing the black paste onto my lashes, I look over at Kay through the mirror. “What did you get?” I asked.

“Just some things he would consider ‘essentials’ that he would forget.” She replied, rummaging through the small pile next to her. “A hat, some money, couple of books and random keepsakes he could look at.”

“Did you add the handkerchief?” I added.

“Of course I got the handkerchief, plus six more.” Kay remarked, and I felt the impact of something soft and light on the back of my head. “Saves us that awkward moment and his first impression with them.”

Slotting the mascara wand back in its bottle, I twisted in my seat to lean down and retrieve what had been thrown against my head, the object revealing itself as a finely-made handkerchief. Picking it up, I ran the soft material between my fingers. “Do you think he’ll notice these things gone?” I questioned, chucking the cloth back at her.

Raising her hands, Kay caught it. “My best guess is that Gandalf is gonna show up over the next few days, and Bilbo owns at least twenty of these. But knowing our luck so far? Yes.” She answered with a tired look as she placed the handkerchief back on the pile.

Standing up, I stretched my arms above my head until I felt my spine let out a series of pops. “ ‘Course.” I groaned, flopping my arms back down. “So why’d you bring them here?”

Standing up, Kay lifted the pile of stuff and hauled it into my unsuspecting arms. “You have the bigger bag, so I need you to hide them in one of your millions of drawers.”

Attempting to balance the load in my arms, I nodded, before padding over to one of the corners of my room, where the accursed wardrobe stood, and where my bag now sat slotted between the wall and that tall piece of furniture.

Placing the pile on the floor, I lowered myself on my knees as I dragged the bag out, trying my best not to jostle it too much and being mindful of the contents that were now sat within. Calling over my shoulder, I told Kay I would join her for breakfast soon, she agreed, and I listened as the door was swung shut with a click, the muffled sound of her bare feet against the wooden floor fading away as she ventured to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, after organising Bilbo’s belongings into one of the drawers, I found myself reorganising some of the herb jars. Sliding the last bottle in place, I stepped back, admiring my handy work. Almost everything I owned now lined the shelves of my bag, the remaining objects back up in my now bare-looking room being my everyday essentials that would be packed the morning we would leave.

Leaving. The thought of it made my stomach churn. Not in a bad way, but not quite in a good way either. Like the feeling you get when you’re at the front of a queue, about to step onto a ride you had never tried before at a theme park. Excited, but knowing that what is to happen might not quite be what you expect.

Swallowing the feeling down, I grasped the side of the step ladder and climbed my way up and out. I finished my morning routine, quickly washing in the bath and threw my shift, kirtle and skirt on as I braided my hair into two low space buns, finishing it off with a wide white ribbon over my head and tying it off with a bow underneath. Pulling my fringe and curtains bangs out from behind my ears, I twirled them into shape before heading over to the door, closing it behind me as I went to meet Kay in the kitchen.

Barely a few steps in, however, I was met by a spritely Bilbo.

“Ah! There you are!” He grinned as he marched over from where he came through the back door hallway (though it was more of a door that was round the bend further along the path), still in his blue overcoat as he handed me a straw-cloth sack full of something unknown.“ I thought about some furniture rearrangements for the parlour whilst I was out and could really use both of your opinions. But breakfast first! I heard Kay was making those pan-cakes.”

Slightly bewildered at the sudden onslaught of conversation, I blinked, nodding silently. Shifting the bag of itchy material in my arms, I followed him through to the kitchen.

After demolishing the stack of pancakes Kay had prepared, we wandered after the hobbit as he beckoned us into the parlour, now only in his green trousers, white shirt and golden waistcoat. “I’m not quite happy with the way it looks by the window.” He called out behind him. “I figured we could do some moving about to see if anything suits our fancy?”

“Right, Kay, could you just push the table this way.” Bilbo asked, pointing over to where he wanted to try it out next. “Try keeping the dishrags underneath the legs so you don’t scrape it –” The hobbit was abruptly cut off as he ducked, narrowly missing a wooden leg as he tried to not get hit by the floating chair that was flying towards him. “KATE! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING YOUR WAND INSIDE?!?!?”

I gaped slightly as I lowered my wand, the chair slowing down as it slowly approached the ground. “I was trying to help?!” I protested, trying to ignore Kay who was trying not to make a sound from where she was leaning over the table, shaking violently with laughter.

“You’re trying to incapacitate me, that’s what you’re doing!!” cried Bilbo, grabbing the chair as soon as it touched the floorboards beside him.

“Not on purpose.” I sulked with a frown.

“Clearly.” He remarked as he eyed me with a weary glare. Pausing for a moment he looked around. “Come to think of it, this arrangement looks nice.” He pondered, shoving the chair back under the table where it belonged. “Whelp! I’m off outside for a smoke.” He huffed, patting his trousers for the pipe weed hidden in one of the pockets. “You two can join if you’d like, it’s a lovely morning outside!” He offered, voice echoing through the hallways as he vanished off to fetch his pipe.

The sound of Hobbiton coming alive in the morning echoes over the hills, wagons being pushed and the chattering of neighbours as they hung out their washing mixed themselves with the chirping birds and rushing water. Kay and I were sat partially hidden behind some bushed in Bilbo’s front garden, and I tilted my head back to try and get the rays onto my pale skin.

“I know we’ve been preparing for this trip for a while now, but is it bad that it makes me so nervous that I feel sick to my stomach sometimes?” I pondered as I leant back on my hands, feeling the blades of grass poke between my fingers.

“Not at all.” Kay replied from where she was laid next to me, an arm tossed over her eyes as she soaked up the early morning sun. “I don’t know how we keep forgetting to ask the date, but it’s causing me to wake up every morning worried that it’ll be our last day here.”

I hummed worriedly in agreement as I watched Bilbo’s smoke rings float above the bushes we were sat behind, the wisps fading into the air. Picking some dirt from under my nails, another thought came to mind.

“What if he doesn’t let us?” I muttered, aware of the hobbit sat on the bench out of sight a few metres away.

Kay made a confused noise. “Who?”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Thorin. We’ve seen how he is, and there’s a strong chance he’ll say no. Hell, even Gandalf might!”

At this Kay pushed herself onto her elbows, squinting in the sun as she looked at me. “I highly doubt Gandalf will say no.” she whispered back. “Plus, Thorin wants an army to join him – he asked Dain after all – so chances are either us, or Gandalf – hopefully – will use that as the counter argument.”

My eyes flitted over the rose bush in front of me, listening to the sound of footsteps pass by as I thought it over. “You’re right, we��ll leave it to think about later.”

Kay nodded, and began lowering herself back down, when the sound of someone sputtering filled the air, followed by some throaty coughs. The two of us went silent, listening to see who was the culprit of the sound.

A few moments of silence passed, until it was finally broken by Bilbo’s wary voice.

“Good Morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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growingstories · 2 years ago

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Maximizing Maximus

Once upon a time in the grand Roman Empire, there lived a gladiator named Maximus.

He was a man of exceptional strength and skill, winning fight after fight in the grand stadiums that were always filled to the brim with adoring fans. Maximus had worked hard to achieve fame and glory, and he dedicated himself to becoming even stronger with each passing day.

Maximus's hot, muscular physique had captured the hearts of many, and he was adored by the crowds who filled the stadiums. Women swooned over his chiseled features, and men idolized his strength. But despite his growing fame, Maximus remained humble and focused on his training, always striving to improve himself.

It was during one particularly intense battle that Maximus astounded everyone present by winning an impossible fight. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, and as a reward his valor for, Emperor the decided to grant Maxim aus wish, something he had yearned for since his to rise fame.

Maximus requested the hand in marriage of one of the Emperor's beautiful daughters. The Emperor, impressed by the gladiator's bravery, agreed to his request. Maximus's world turned upside down overnight. He went from being a common fighter to a nobleman, with riches beyond his imagination.

Along with his newfound status came a servant, a handsome blonde Roman man of twenty. The servant tended to Maximus's every need, bringing him delicious food and attending to his every desire.

The gladiator found himself falling in love with this dedicated servant, who would go to great lengths to please him.

As the days went by, Maximus gradually began to lose his discipline. He no longer trained with the same intensity or dedication as before. The servant would bring him lavish meals, and they would indulge in feasts together, growing lazier and fatter with each passing day.

In just three months, Maximus had gained an astonishing 20lbs, his once-toned muscles slowly giving way to softness. The servant did everything possible to make his master comfortable, including feeding him and attending to his every whim.

Week by week, the portions became larger, and Maximus lost sight of his former self. His lover served him not only food but also love and devotion, and Maximus's addiction to both grew stronger. A year passed, and Maximus had gained a staggering 40lbs, his once-dominant physique now significantly overweight.

Year after year went by, and Maximus's growing boredom and laziness continued to feed his desires. Indulging in extravagant feasts, he found solace only in eating and attending parties of the Emperor, where he could feast to his heart's content.

Four years later, Maximus had gained a shocking 100lbs, his body almost unrecognizable from his days as a gladiator. His servant, too, had grown 20lbs heavier, the devotion he showed mirrored in his own increasing weight.

The once-famous gladiator had transformed into a gluttonous nobleman, spending his days lounging in luxury, feasting on delic broughtacies to him by his steadfast servant. The world had forgotten the lean and powerful Maximus, and in his place was an obese man consumed by his own indulgences.

And so, the tale of Maximus, the gladiator turned nobleman, serves as a cautionary reminder that even the most celebrated heroes can succumb to their vices, losing sight of the very things that had made them great.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories

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loosesodamarble · 1 year ago

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Fire Vermillions' Favorite Weapons and Fight Style

Writing down my thoughts for @thoughtfullyrainynightmare's Fire Vermillion Month~!

..........

Mereoleona Vermillion

If Mereoleona were to use a weapon, she's opt for brass knuckles.

They're straightforward but impactful weapons, just like her personality.

Ranged combat has its place but she's about close, melee fighting. She's not gonna be a coward and fight from a distance.

Mereo puts her whole being into a fight and if that means exposing her body to harm, so be it.

She wants to look her opponent in the eye while she overpowers them. Or if she's on the losing side, she wants them to see her stand defiant to the end.

Very rarely does Mereoleona feel haunted by a guilt of seeing her enemy so close.

Because most of them do fight earnestly which makes the battle something honorable.

Not only that, but up close fighting means that she has to fighting a little more on her feet, adapting on the fly to keep pace.

And she likes the challenge of not knowing how the opponent right in front of her eyes might surprise her.

It's about being bold and adaptable and upfront every step of the way when it comes to Mereo on the battlefield.

...

Fuegoleon Vermillion

If Fuegoleon were to use a weapon, I imagine him with a crossbow.

Something a little heavier and more mechanical than a typical longbow but not quite a gun/early rifle.

Fuegoleon is a careful and methodical fighter, he takes time to observe his opponent and search for an opening.

Because crossbows have a slower fire-rate, it means Fuegoleon has a few extra seconds to consider his target, that or he has to really consider where his limited shots will go.

Fuegoleon can go ranged or melee with his fighting style but I think he prefers ranged.

Not out of cowardice or a fear of looking his enemy in the eye, far from that.

But rather, if he fights from a range, he's more likely to be observing a larger battlefield.

He doesn't do one-on-one melees as much as his sister in hopes that his firepower can be useful to as wide a scope as possible

Fuegoleon seems like he'd want to see as much of the battlefield as possible, direct his soldiers where they need to be, and make decisive attacks of his own where need be.

Sometimes, there will be an opponent that requires more attention from him, at which point he'd make it a close range battle and trust that his knights can manage themselves until he can resume giving orders.

But more often than not, Fuegoleon's aim reaches far and wide.

...

Leopold Vermillion

Grenades, this boy would wield grenades and other explosives as his weapon of choice.

Leopold is less refined than Fuegoleon and only slightly less in-your-face than Mereoleona, in terms of personality and fighting style. He's unique from his siblings, that's all that it is.

I think explosives like grenades match Leopold and his fighting style well.

They're, well, explosive like Leopold but as with any weapon, they take skill to wield properly.

Leopold can use grenades that go off very quickly for more sudden attacks. Or he can plant timed grenades for later payoff attacks, similar to how he endured and drew out the battle to draw the massive rune circle.

Leopold's fighting style is similar to Fuegoleon in that it's a strategy that takes time. But it's different in that instead of observing and waiting for an opening, Leopold is able to endure and create an opening for himself.

It's like a fusion of Fuegoleon's patient fighting style and Mereoleona's actively adapting style.

It's a little less refined/reckless, but Leopold it's a fighting style that isn't simply running headlong into situations.

Leopold is still learning and growing, but he's taking the lessons of his elder siblings and turning them into his own strength.

#fire vermillion month #black clover #mereoleona vermillion #fuegoleon vermillion #leopold vermillion #black clover headcanons #mereoleona vermillion headcanons #fuegoleon vermillion headcanons #leopold vermillion headcanons

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batsyforyou · 1 year ago

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Little Dove: Part 1

Manwë X FemChild Reader

Warnings/Tags: POV changes, child crying, a child getting lost, child-ish shenanigans, stress, feeling a little ill, slight depression mentioned, future kidnapping, and some political talk is briefly mentioned as well. Everything here should mostly be fluff right til the end. All possible cuss words/phrases have been removed.

Reader Info: Pronouns Used: she/her. I also mentioned that the reader is blonde and female. If that doesn't work with you just imagine what you want.

Elvish words: These are Quenya mostly, nésa (sister), Elleth (elf-woman), Ellon (Elf-man), Atar (father,) Amillë (mother), Ammë is also mother but I stuck with the first one. If I used any of these incorrectly please let me know and I’ll come back and fix it.

Character List: Manwë, Varda, Fingon, Feanor, Finrod, Maglor, Maedhros, Ramtôr (a named guard really/male oc), Finarfin, Olwë, and Y/n.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with The Silmarillion, the Lord of the Rings, or The Hobbit. I do, however own my fanfic and I ask that no one reposts or puts my work in an AI system. Thank you.

Author’s Note: So here it is a “couple of days” later lol. Overall I think I did an okay job at characterizing Manwë and the rest. I don’t think it's horrible but it could be better. I worked super hard on this so I hope it reads okay for everyone. And please let me know if I made any mistakes or if you have any tips. I’ll try to come back and fix them if I can.

Ps. Please remember this was a part of a larger work. I'm just dicing it into pieces. And I’ll be posting the second part as soon as I can. This story was supposed to have three-five parts. I don't know if I’m gonna post all five or leave it at three. And a little disclaimer here but I have never written for any of these characters before and I’ll admit that dialogue is my weakest skill. Anyway thank you for reading and I hope you have a very blessed day!

And Flora, thank you so so much for all the love and support you gave me! I really appreciate it.

Little Dove

POV: Manwë

Manwë was ashamed of himself. Truly, was there no worse feeling in the world? Lord Irmo’s Maia had performed wonderfully in their duties. They had prepared Irmo’s Mansion in festive decor in record time and had managed to provide such scrumptious food for the feast tonight. A task he was sure had been near impossible with the sheer number of elves joining this evening, far more than expected. And here he sat with his fellow Vala at a night of Celebration feeling…unwell, to say the least. The burden he usually carried felt heavier than usual. He sat at the head of his table boneless in his chair and his temples pounding. His nerves were tingling with fire and he was so warm he thought he might turn to ash.

He had desperately hoped this evening would go differently.

Tonight they were to celebrate and bless Finwe’s newest grandchild. The elves were quite ecstatic about the Festivals arrangements even some of his own maia were quite pleased. The Halls of Irmo echoed the sounds of music from lutes to flutes to harps to bells and joyous laughter bounced off the walls. Colorful decorations had been hung and the ballroom floor had been polished with enough shine to mirror the people’s reflections. Chandeliers hung above emphasizing both the vaulted ceilings and the embroidered tapestries. Over high arches there were plants and flowers growing and they wrapped around pillars and over some of Lord Irmo’s statues. In between it all the Elves danced about and ate and drank by their tables and sang. Honestly, it was quite a sight.

Shifting in his seat he rested his elbow on the arm rest and placed his head in his hand. With the insistent pounding in his head he briefly closed his eyes to feel the smooth coolness of his robes upon his skin, almost wishing on Varda’s stars he hadn’t been needed for tonight’s attendance. Perhaps if he had done so he wouldn’t have to sit and listen to all the noise.

But no. He had his duties to perform and besides he’d kick himself if he hadn’t come. Somewhere amongst the merry making elves was a sweet little elleth who’d waited very patiently to meet with them. She’d undoubtedly been anxiously awaiting for her big day with bated breath. Heart filled to the brim with the utmost excitement, most likely annoying her parents in the meantime, and he had no desire to ruin the night for her. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn with guilt.

However, his mind was occupied with bigger things. As much as he’d like his biggest concern to be the happiness of a young elf. He truly had far more important things to think about. Like young Prince Feanor and his strange behavior as of late. Or that of his brother’s sheer lack of, well, effort he should say.

It seemed everything was losing balance and crumbling in towards his feet. He was not sure what to do with the young Prince; in fact, Manwë would go as far as to say Feanor was paranoid. Though a part of him understood that Feanor had always been protective of his work and he had accomplished much in his time. Perhaps the young Prince was simply fixated on a new project again. It did make him wonder what exactly was going through the young elf’s mind when it came to moments like these. Perhaps he should consult Lord Aulë next he saw him.

His brother, Melkor, was not in attendance tonight. With Melkor’s recent release into Valinor he had thought the celebration would be a perfect chance for his brother to reintroduce himself to the Elven people and bolster his morale but alas Melkor had made other arrangements. Simply put Melkor had made no attempt in connecting with the elves or even acknowledging them. He knew Melkor felt terrible about what happened but further isolating himself didn’t help matters.

Manwë took a breath moving to pinch the bridge of his nose strands of his white hair falling in his face. Why both Feanor and Melkor had to be so stubborn instead of simply enjoying themselves would forever boggle his mind. At the mere thought his head ached and as the minutes drew on, it only got worse. He had over exerted himself and was now paying the price.

His lady wife had warned him, his precious lady was the only highlight of his evening thus far and he was forever grateful. He tilted his gaze and watched her through white lashes as she talked freely with Lady Nienna beside him. He adjusted the grip on his face and felt his rings bite into his skin.

Varda was simply breathtaking. She had worn some of her finest robes in honor of the celebration. They were the color of lavender and her new pretty silver circlet sat upon her brow. A large gem of diamond rested on her forehead, sparkling almost as brightly as the tiny dotting of stars in his lady’s raven hair. Simply breathtaking. Exquisite in the highest regard.

Unable to resist he very lightly let the back of his fingers graze her arm, aware of the public eye. Varda glanced at him and he smiled when she turned to face him. Lady Neinna being momentarily distracted with the arrival of her brother Irmo.

His love racked her eyes over him once whispering, “Darling, you look exhausted. How are you feeling?”

He ignored her, simply taking his time to admire her form. “You look positively ravishing tonight. Have I told you?” She hummed, leaning in and fussing with the side of his robe. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He could smell the oil she had used, the light floral hint and hear the jingle of her jewelry. He could feel the heat of her words by his ear as she spoke, “Yes, three times this evening, my love.”

“Only three?”

“Only three.”

“An oversight on my part, my dear, I’ll have to regale you with praises of your brilliance to make up for it.”

She laughed. “You’ll have to do so in the comfort of our home.” She sat back into her chair, her drink in hand. He watched as Lady Nienna pulled his wife's attention away from him with a smile. Though the sharp glance Varda sent his way told him that his avoidance in answering her earlier question would not last for long.

He averted his gaze from his wife, feeling his blood pulse and his stomach pinch. He rubbed his forehead and felt a slight dew of sweat. Maybe a minute or two away to compose himself would be best. Rid him of his mood. With a word to his wife Manwë excused himself discreetly slipping from the ballroom and entering Irmo’s blessedly quiet halls.

POV: Finrod

Finrod was silent as he watched the crowd, his blue eyes raking across the room. There were hundreds of elves here tonight. A wonderful turn out for him and his family but a misfortune in Y/n’s eyes. He was quite certain, however; that she'd look back at this moment in life and be grateful so many had come. For his part, he was thrilled to see so many elves had come to celebrate his sister’s special day and share in this moment.

He’d be the first to admit that, in retrospect, he could have planned for Y/n’s first public appearance far better than he did. And while that responsibility belonged to his Atar, and his Atar alone, Finrod felt particularly responsible. After all, as her eldest brother she looked more towards him for guidance and reassurance. And his sister was still a young elf, practically a babe, he felt that it was his job to guide her steps when he could and help her adjust to new things as time grew on.

Before tonight, Y/n hadn’t made any appearances or participated in any event. If the public saw her at all it was a glimpse of her hair and gown.

Naturally when she’d first heard of her party and the expected amount of party goers, she’d been reasonably frightened and had spent the last few months dreading the party. She’d tried to find every excuse under the Light of the Two Trees to not come. And he had tried to lessen her anxiety and subsequent panic by taking her out to the market and letting her explore on her own terms. Even if that consisted of her glaring at passerbyers and gripping onto his hand with all the strength a little elleth like her had.

Despite his best efforts and reminders about the importance of her Presentation to the Valar. Y/n had thrown a fit about attending with Amillë earlier and had told him right before passing the party’s threshold that she was scared to go and had asked him to stay with her.

As a result she’d been wanting his attention like no other tonight. Tugging on his robes and pulling his arm, holding his hand, hugging his leg, and mostly clinging onto him. It’d gotten to the point he almost tripped over her, she’d been so close! All of this while many noble houses and their representatives came to speak with her or more rather him. As he would redirect their attention elsewhere.

He understood she was nervous about being out with so many people. And he understood that she felt safer with him. However, her behavior was getting a little . . . much. Though some part of him felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to better prepare her for tonight. If he had she probably would have fully enjoyed her celebration instead of hiding behind him for the majority of it.

Finrod raised his arm, feeling his robes shift with him and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. This evening was dragging on far longer than he’d like.

“Finnie? . . . Finnie!? . . . Finniee!”

He felt an insistent tugging on his robes and held in a sigh. Dealing with a hyper ten year elfling at such a late hour was not on anyones to do list he was sure. He looked down at his sister and found her clutching tightly onto his robes in her pretty pink gown. Her eyes wide and doe like as she stared into his and he felt some of the tension flow from his shoulders.

“What is it?”

She beamed up at him and bounced on her toes.

“Can we get that pretty cake with the raspberries, please?”

He frowned, raspberry cake? He hadn’t seen that particular treat being severed this evening. Not an actual raspberry cake. A cake topped with raspberries, perhaps?

“What cake?”

“The really small, pretty one, over dere!” Y/n squirmed excitedly and pointed over the buffet table, “Over dere! See?” He followed her finger and found that there was indeed a dessert that had raspberries but it wasn’t a cake, it was a raspberry tart. A sweet tasty pastry made with an almond and raspberry filling. Topped with cream and raspberries. He had eaten it before, it was very tasty, full of flavor. And something a ten year elfing definitely didn’t need at this time of night.

“How about we save one for you tomorrow, hm?”

“Tomorrow?! Why can’t I have it now? ‘Em hungry now! Pretty please Finnie, I promise to be good!” She whined. Her eyes swelled with water and she jutted out her bottom lip, pouting.

Finrod shook his head, chuckling, “Don’t fret, I'll get you something equally as nice.”

“You promise?” She sniffed.

He playfully rolled his eyes and leaned down to pinch her nose, coaxing a giggle from her. “Of course.”

Y/n vigorously nodded her head excited. “Okay! Can we dance after?”

“I’d be delighted too.” Taking Y/n’s hand he led her to the buffet table. It was decorated with a pink tablecloth and vibrant pink colored rose petals scattered underneath the small fruits and dinner appropriate dishes. The decorations for this evening had been up to Lord Irmo's maia to decide. But he remembered how Y/n had been approached by a maia who had asked her what color she favored best. He smiled remembering the encounter as Y/n happily looked through the options.

He watched his sister fondly as she babbled about the berries she wanted and which were best. Her hair had been loosely braided for the evening. And he knew how much she hated having her hair pinned. She made it a common practice to remind Amillë and every other elf within hearing distance how uncomfortable it was. How the pins always pulled her hair too tight and how silly it made her look. He wouldn’t be surprised if Amillë had been regaled with the usual speech earlier in the evening. With a reminiscent look in his eyes he placed his large hand on her head.

Y/n huffed tilting her head up to glare at him.

“Finnie, you're gonna ruin it!”

He smirked, “Oh, please nésa, I’m not ruining it.”

“Oh, come now, cousin. You know how the ladies are with their hair.”

Finrod grinned and turned to meet the voice of his cousin.

“Fingon!” He stepped forward and clasped Fingon’s shoulder. “It's been several months since I last saw you. How have you been? Staying out of trouble I hope?”

Fingon tossed his head back as he laughed, his roped gold braids bumping against his chest. “Ha! If only! How about you, hm?” He raised a dark brow. “Smooth sailing I hope?”

Finrod released a sigh, and let go of his cousin’s shoulder, “It is as you said, ‘if only,’ though it hasn’t been nearly as miserable as last year's . . . festivities, I should say.” Referencing a particularly nasty disagreement between two noble houses that had happened late last year. Both high ranking ellons who served in the royal court. Their bickering had created quite a scandal though no one really knew as to why or what had started it, only that it had something to do with their daughters and that it had been a private affair. In the end, it’d required the King's discretion in ending whatever it was and the King refused to speak of it. Though that didn’t stop the people from speculating nor the raging gossip that had filled the palace halls.

Fingon nodded in acknowledgment casting his eyes downward as a playful grin crossed his face, “And it appears my littlest cousin is shy tonight?”

Finrod looked down to see the top of Y/n’s head as she grabbed onto his robes partially hiding behind his leg and a surprisingly good amount of berries in her fist. He was surprised she hadn’t taken the opportunity to steal that pastry she wanted.

“If you came around more often she’d be more familiar with you.” He meet Fingon’s eyes while placing a hand to the back of Y/n’s head again. “Nésa, why don’t you say hi, hm?”

“Hi.” She wiggled herself further behind his leg, cheeks blooming with color. Fingon beamed at her, “Hello, Y/n. How are you tonight?”

“Fine.” Y/n muttered and Finrod lightly bumped her side, “And, and how are you? Do you like the party?” She asked. Quickly shoving a few berries into her mouth.

Fingon made an exaggerated nod, “I do!” Then as if he had a secret to share he leaned in close and covered the side of his mouth. “I especially enjoyed the candied fruits they served tonight.” To prove this he pulled a candied strawberry from, seemingly, his robe’s pocket and happily popped the polished fruit into his mouth.

Y/n let out a disbelieving gasp, “What?!” She turned to him saying, “Finnie! Why does he get to have his treats and I don’t? That isn’t fair!”

Fingon reeled back in mock horror, “What!? Finrod, is that true? You're keeping her from her cake?”

Finrod glared at him while mildly wondering how many other treats his cousin had up his sleeves, “No, I am not. Now just isn’t the appropriate time for cake. She's had enough sugar for tonight.” He crossed his arms and fought a scowl from his face. He’s dealt with his energetic sister all evening and he wasn’t keen on making the inevitable sugar crash any worse than it had to be. “And she wants a pastry not a cake.”

Fingon ignored him and gave another dramatic gasp, “Not on your Begetting Day! Indeed this isn’t fair!”

He rolled his eyes, “Not that I need to remind you but it is also her Presentation to the Valar. Fetching her more sugar would not be a good idea. She’ll feel sick if she consumes anymore. Not to mention that once the sugar rush leaves I’ll have to deal with a very cranky and exhausted elleth.”

“That's all the more reason to let her have it!” Fingon waved his hand, “Besides she’ll be presented to the Valar soon enough. Why not let her have the treat? She can go to bed right after the Presentation as everyone else will be dancing and-” He paused carefully selecting his next words. “And they’ll be getting further into their drink. It’ll not be a party suited for one so young.”

Then Fingon confidently moved forward and wrapped an arm round around his shoulders. “And I am confident that the other little ones that’d been scattered about will also be leaving for their beds as well.”

Finrod only raised a brow and gave Fingon a warning look. Though Fingon continued to ignore him and instead turned to Y/n who’d been oddly quiet, “You know Y/n, why don’t the two of us go get that pastry you wanted, hm? After all, it is your special day. You should have what you want!”

Fingon separated himself from him and took Y/n’s hand into his as Y/n squealed in excitement.

Finrod sighed, leveling Fingon with a disapproving glare though he made no move to stop him. His cousin smirked at him and wiggled his brows as he and Y/n left to travel further down the buffet table.

Finrod felt his mouth twitch as he fought a smile, happy to see the two spending time together, but instead he rolled his eyes. Watching Y/n as she giggled and hopped alongside her, undoubtedly, new favorite cousin. Thankfully the pair didn’t have to stray far and he could easily keep an eye on her and listen to their conversation with ease.

“My Prince.” Finrod blinked.

Behind him stood Ramtôr, a member of the Royal Guard and a long time friend. He was dressed in golden armor and he held a staff in his hand and a sword hung at his waist. His normally loose hair had been pulled back and he wore a bright smile.

Finrod felt a flood of elation race through him.“Ramtôr!” He beamed. In his excitement he had not realized that he had called Fingon’s attention to him and his cousin watched the newcomer with great interest.

Ramtôr bowed his head, “My Prince, I do not mean to intrude but I've been sent to inform you that his Highness, King Olwë has arrived and is waiting in the foyer.”

And with that Finrod felt his heart leap into his throat.

Masterlist

Little Dove: Prologue If the link doesn’t work please let me know!

A/N: Thank you for reading!

#Manwe x femchild reader #Manwe x child reader #Manwe #finrod #fingon #y/n #male oc #a named guard really #POV changes #stress #Little Dove #Little Dove part 1 #future kidnapping #kidnapping #Tolkien #the silmarillion #silmarillion

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cee-grice · 2 years ago

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you know what time it is, folks. that's right, it's worldbuilding time

today, we're talking about:

💎Magia Conduits💎

DEFINITION

A magia conduit is a tool that mages and some priests use to wield magia, meaning, it's something that they require in order to do magic. It's a type of crystal called nightlite that has unparalleled magia conductive qualities, and functions as, well, a conduit through which people are able to access magia in the air. This crystal is typically cut into gems and used as jewelry. By far the most popular metal to encase it in is gold, as it's significantly conductive as well, and may provide help in smoothing the link to magia. Any person wishing to do magic must have a magia conduit on their person. There are many factors that impact its functionality, however.

ORIGINS

Nightlite gets its name from its night-like appearance, which is especially prominent in the dark as it has a slight glow to it (when cut and polished, it loses the glow). See the illustration below:

It's commonly found in caves strewn about the continent; although, at the present time, there is much less of it left due to the mining for conduits. It does not seem to form anymore either, nor is it possible to transmute. Nightlite was found very early on but its magia-related qualities were discovered much later. When scholars first started theorizing that magic could be done by anyone, not just priests (see this post for a bit more info on that), they spent years trying to find ways to achieve that. At some point, they turned to folklore, as nightlite was well-known among the common people. Those that dabbled in worship believed it was a manifestation of the deities and brought miracles into their homes if placed somewhere inside. Some saw it as a tool for curses and thus either seeked it out for nefarious purposes or avoided it as best they could. And some thought that if gifted to a newborn upon their birth it would bring the child good fortune for the rest of their lives. In short, there were as many beliefs as there were communities—and all had to do with mystical abilities (this was likely caused by accidental casting, so most of those beliefs had some truth to it). And so, when scholars began investigating this crystal, they quickly discovered that it, indeed, was just what they'd been looking for. On a separate note, nightlite has baffled geologists ever since they started investigating it and still does to this day. Although it looks like a regular crystal and can be cut and polished, its physical properties and structure is entirely unlike any other crystal. For example, it doesn't conduct heat at all, never sinks despite being heavier than all known crystals, tastes vaguely like burnt wood, makes no sound when hit—so far, nightlite remains a mystery to geologists, although a lot of effort it being put into uncovering its nature.

USAGE

What kind of magia conduit a mage has depends on what kind of mage they are. In short, the smaller the gem is, the less magia they can command, but the more precise their control will be. Imagine a hammer vs a spear. It depends what your needs are. For all-rounder mages (jack-of-all-trades types), they usually go with an average-sized necklace, a comfortable middle. A necklace is also the standard for students until they get a personalized one and most priests that use one. Those that tend to command larger amount of magia and don't require much precision, such as abjuration mages (they deal with protection magic, basically), typically go for arm braces or pendants with large gems. In contrast, those that need much more precision, like transmutation mages, opt for rings or delicate bracelets. Charm mages are somewhat unique in this regard. They're the only type that command magia primarily through speaking, and so they tend to wear conduits as earrings or hair/head pieces—something that would be closer to one's mouth. An example (how Quil's looks like):

Now, sometimes it's in your best interest that others can't tell where your conduit is, so some tend to hide or otherwise disguise them. Some, however, like Merridie mages, wear so much jewelry with so many fakes that it can be difficult to tell which is the real one. Some don't try to hide it at all, thus showing how confident they are in their own abilities.

Magia conduits are also typically linked to one specific mage at a time. This is done to ensure the best possible flow and control. Each person differs in so many ways both physically and spiritually, so it's only natural they'd use magia differently, too, to some extent. That's why personalized conduits are a must for most mages. It's possible to wield magia with another's conduit, but it won't listen to you as effectively. It's common conduits to be passed down from parent to child if they come from a mage family. It's said that conduits that are family heirlooms work more efficiently for their new wielders as the more they've been in a family line, the more exposure they've had to it and thus are better adapted for it. This also means that they function more poorly to anyone not from the family line. In addition, more prominent families also have specific designs for their conduits. Quil's family, for example, go for more triangular and sharp designs. Some of such conduits have a reputation of their own, and children may even compete for them. It's considered high honor to inherit an old conduit. (As a note, whilst Quil did inherit his own, he had it remade into a ring as it used to be a hair piece. This was a very controversial move within the family lol.)

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @writerfae, @tate-lin, @iriswords, @sternenmeerkind, @thecrookedwriterspath, @pure-solomon, @moonshinemagpie, @arowanaprincess, @scribe-of-stories, @thesorcerersapprentice, @stuffaboutwriting, @doriians

#writeblr #wbw #wwcc worldbuilding #wwcc wip #writers on tumblr #wwcc art #cee draws #i'm gonna do more illustrations of conduits later down the line #they just take Forever #well not actually but still a few hours lol

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 6 months ago

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No one. absolutely no one: .....

Me: Tavra’s style of sword fighting, in the one real example we see of it, shows a focus on finesse and point control- instead of singularly hacking or blocking, like Naia and Tae do, Tavra both deflects and disarms her larger and stronger opponent by cutting at skekSa’s claws, successfully flipping the Skeksis’ sword out of her grip and over a nearby cliff’s edge.

Me: This either shows that her sword is one capable of fine point control, implying that the sword’s balance is more towards to hilt, or that Tavra is skilled enough in the techniques of single opponent dueling to make up for her weapon’s innate design.

Me: That she knew she could disarm skekSa by targeting her hand without resorting to fully chopping off said hand, as Tae did, suggests Tavra is well aware of what damage to a sword wielder’s fingers can do to their ability to continue holding their sword.

Me: This in turn suggests she is used to combat where disarming rather than drastically maiming or killing your opponent is expected, again possibly matching up with duels of honor where dominance through the exhibition of greater skill decides the victor, possibly with rules regarding an instant lost if your sword is taken from you.

Me: She also makes good use of extreme maneuverability, “wing work” instead of “foot work”, evading all three of her opponent’s remaining hands despite skekSa’s much greater reach and fury. Her awareness of the local air currents- terrain for a woman with wings- also is sharp, as she uses the wind to power her own swift backward evasion while retreating safely out of skekSa’s wild swatting attacks.

Me: So much movement would not match well with fighting in close formations or with groups of others, or in densely foliaged or cramped spaces such as jungle or a ship’s deck. It would be a good match for open landscapes with strong wind currents, like the mountain sides or cliffs of her home, and for a woman fighting alone or who’s role is to completely distract and occupy a specific opponent while luring it away from her fellows.

Me: This might explain why Naia and Tae remained more earth bound, being used to swamp and ships respectively, with Tae using her wings for a single preplanning diving attack, while Tavra takes to the air and remains there the moment she replaces them both in the fight.

Me: did you think i was going somewhere with this? NO!

Me: WAIT YES ACTUALLY

Me: book Tavra’s sword should look more like her one from the TV show, with the hand protection D guard thingy and more weight towards the hilt, and a single edged blade that can block blows on it’s spine while still cutting and stabbing

Me: her swords should NOT look like it does on the cover of book 3, with a short leaf blade meant for increasing chopping power meaning loss of point control and most weight up near the blade tip, especially paired with that simple and skimpy guard that does basically NOTHING this sword makes sense if it’s made out BRONZE or if you’re got a shield or spear, it is NOT a weapon of someone who fights like TAVRA DOES

Me: Also, the fact Tae is able to sever a larger opponents wrist with one cut from her dagger implies said dagger is either on the larger side or heavier side.

Me: That Onica's blade is called a "dirk" instead might suggest that it, unlike Tae's dagger, is not designed mainly for combat, and might be more along the lines of a highland dirk or bollocks dagger, with a single-edge multipurpose but still perfectly deadly blade and no hand protection to get caught on clothing or rigging lines while in use on her ship.

Me: Presumably, since Naia got her "knife" from her brother while he was in service as a guard in the castle, and she uses it later to fend off possessed NOT! Tavra's body while it was attacking with a sword, book Naia's knife is somewhere between Tae's dagger and Onica's dirk, possibly with some form of handguard, more than as seen in the TV show version, and maybe a bit longer blade with a single edge and dropped point to make it a tool as well instead of dedicated weapon like the word "dagger" when used in contrast sometimes implies- a knife capable of parrying or catching attacks with as well as for fighting your opponent in close quarters or more general day to day use.

Me: ok im done now

#the dark crystal age of resistance #spoilers #katavra “tavra”#tae #onica #naia #swords #indecipherable ranting

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solradguy · 2 years ago

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hey sol, you may have answered this before but how do you prepare your physical books for scanning without destroying them? i have some figure making books i’d like to share on archive.org but i don’t wanna slice up the pages if possible :(

Depends on the binding! Artworks of GGX and GG2Overture Material Collection both have flexible glue binding ("perfect" binding) that made pushing them down into my scanner bed easy without damaging them:

The GGX book (left) had some art go down into the gutter that was annoying for double-page spreads but it was clear enough that I was able to redraw the missing parts. The GG2O book was designed with space left around the art so that it didn't go into the gutter. It's alright if you can't redraw the gutter, just leave it in the images after you scan them and hopefully people will be able to read whatever text goes down into it.

The Yoshitaka Amano illustrated biography I did scans from was a little tricky. It's hardback with a sort of woven binding. I could lay it flat in the scanner bed, but the hard spine definitely felt like it was being pushed to its limits doing that; part of the reason why I won't be scanning from it again. If your books are hardbacks too, they should probably be ok for scanning all of their pages if you're especially gentle/careful about it and they aren't too old. Here's what the spine/binding on the Amano book looks like:

I set them in my scanner like this and hold the spine down with one hand while I operate the scanner software with the other:

Part of the book hangs out of the scanner and that seems to make it easier both on the book's spine and on my hand since it's at more of a 90 degree angle than a 180 degree one.

I don't put the scanner lid down and do my scans mostly in the dark with just a dim lamp on to make up for not putting the lid down. Putting it down just gets in the way/doesn't really help much for scanning big books like these. If you have small hands or your setup makes it hard to scan the way I do, you might be able to hold the book/its spine down with a larger, heavier, book while you operate the software.

If the binding on your books is really tight and you can't lay them very flat, you might be able to find a scanning software on your phone and make a setup to hold the book open far enough to get camera scans with the app. I haven't tried this, though I have considered it for scanning manga without unbinding them.

Some other (optional) things you can do to improve scan quality are:

Put a piece of black construction paper behind the page you're scanning. I have one taped to the top of my scanner lid at the moment because I've been scanning loose manga pages, but for the art books I'd slip it between the pages. It reduces page bleed through from the scanner light in the finished scan dramatically.

If the pages on your books are glossy, investing in some inspection gloves will be very useful. I bought a pack for like $5usd on eBay to scan the Dengeki PlayStation magazine because its pages were glossy and I kept leaving fingerprints on them. A small investment to save some time in post cleaning off any visible fingerprints later.

Put a movie on in the background because my god does scanning get tedious.

These aren't required, only things that have streamlined my process a little.

Good luck!!

#asks #long post

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mask131 · 2 years ago

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Cold winter: Hobbits

HOBBITS

Category: Tolkien’s Legendarium / Fantasy literature

The hobbits are without a doubt one of Tolkien’s most famous invention for his fantasy world – so famous everybody sought to imitate or copy it, and then ended up realizing they couldn’t do that because Tolkien had invented the hobbits and so owned them (see how D&D’s “hobbits” became “halflings”). They are the protagonists of two of his fantasy work, the more child-oriented “The Hobbit” novel, as well as his masterpiece “The Lord of the Rings”. But… what is a hobbit?

I) Physical traits and appearances

The hobbit race has a very distinctive appearance. They look like humans (“Men” as they are called in Tolkien writings), but with an important size difference: the Hobbits are close in heights to Dwarves, being between two and four feet tall (men are typically around 3 feet 6 inches, women around 3 feet), to the point they look like children to Men. However the Dwarves tend to be taller, and much stouter or stockier. As in, with muscle. Hobbits can also be stout, but rather in fat: hobbits are naturally plump and tend to get fatter or paunchier with age, thanks to their great love for food. Despite their small sizes, hobbits are known to eat more than a grown-up Man, and food is one of their main preoccupations in life: in fact, unlike the other races typical three meals a day, the hobbits have seven meals a day (Breakfast, Second breakfast, Elevenses, Luncheon, Afternoon tea, Dinner and Supper). Not that they actually need that much food to survive – hobbits can survive on more reasonable or rational portions for quite some time… but they’ll be quite unhappy and lose their extra weight.

Hobbits also have naturally curly brown hair, as much on their head… as on their feet. The hobbits are renowned for their feet, which are much larger and thicker than human’s feet, to the point they usually do not wear (or need) shoes, thanks to their soles being basically leather – and their feet are covered in fur-like hair which keeps them warm most of the time. Another difference compared to Mankind is their lifespan: a hobbit usually lives between 90 and a 100 years old. A hobbit goes from a child to a man at the age of 33, a middle-aged hobbit will be in his fifties, and the oldest hobbit to have ever lived died at the age of 130. I don’t think it was talked about in the novels, but in his letters Tolkien spoke of the hobbits as having slightly pointed ears (a detail that was used in the movie adaptation). Hobbits are also renowned for their “keen eyes”, an excellent sense of sight that helps them wield bows and slingshots with a deadly efficacity.

There are three “sub-types” of Hobbits, each with their own physical differences: the Stoors, a hobbit-breed heavier and broader than other hobbits, with large hands and feet, and the only kind of hobbit to be able to grow facial hair (they are said to look the most like Men) ; the Fallohides, who in turn are closer to elves, being taller and slimmer than other hobbits (it is not uncommon to have four-feet hobbits or even higher individuals among the Fallohides), and their skin and hair are “fairer” than regular hobbits ; and finally the Harfoots, the more common breed and the one we follow throughout Tolkien’s book, smaller than others, browner of skin, with neat and nimble hands and feet.

II) Culture

Hobbits have a very pastoral and idyllic culture and setting. They are gentle, slow to quarrel, and are alien to cruelty – they are the most un-warlike people you can meet, who don’t even think of hunting as a possible sport, and who only see weapons as trophies to hang on a wall or useless trinkets. They are however crafty people, skilled with all kinds of tools, and they are always ready to take arms and fight if needed (more about that later) ; and despite their general gentle nature, greed, selfishness and pettiness is still not unheard of among hobbits, though these vices never make a hobbit “evil”, mostly unpleasant, cowardly or envious at best.

Hobbits dislike wars and adventures, and have a fondness for a peaceful, homely, pleasant life in their bucolic lands. For a hobbit, a good life is one stayed at home, farming their crops, smoking pipes, tending their garden, socializing with other hobbits (or rather gossiping with other hobbits), drinking ale, eating seven meals a day (well, the seven meals a day is at best, they can settle for less such as six, five or even four if conditions don’t allow them) and talking about genealogies. Genealogy is another big thing with hobbits, who live in large families and clans, forming a bloodline-and-marriage based social system not unlike the Scottish clans – resulting in people keeping exact records of each one’s ancestry, cousins and bloodlines, and discussing one’s origins and next of kin being a traditional hobbit topic. These clans however do not have any rivalry – hobbits exist in strong communities where very knows each other, and everybody is ready to help one another, be it a neighbor or a friend, thanks to the hobbit’s natural qualities of generosity and pity. But their dislike of adventures, great travels and conflicts also led them to live quite isolated life, not knowing much of the world beyond their home-lands, and barely associating with their neighborhood species, and only out of geographical coexistence and occasional economic need (trade for example). This is actually the most common and typical “flaws” of the hobbits: they grew to become a bit xenophobic (as in they will be suspicious of any foreigner or non-hobbit person coming near them), as well as very narrow-minded. They are pure and innocent, yes, but also in the sense that they don’t have an exact sense of reality thanks to living in their little paradise and do not often realize the greater threats or scope of what they encounter or heard about. This also led them to perceive as “strange” any type of behavior that isn’t what they are used to and lived with for the many centuries of their history, and so are quite refractive to change, for the good and the bad.

In fact, the hobbits natural generosity is expressed in the tradition of gift-giving. Hobbits rely on gifts as a form of traditional payments – when someone gives you a service, you can pay them with gifts. But also when someone does you a favor, it is excepted you give them a gift in return ; when you are friend with someone, gift-giving is common ; and there is a strong tradition of the head of a family (or head of a clan) offering a gift to a newborn baby of his line, as a way to recognize the family membership. But in return, the hobbit child has to give its parents a gift on its third birthday.

Now… their love for comfort and life’s pleasures, they down-to-earth lifestyle not prone to hostility or violence, as well as their isolation from the world and un-threatened appearances made a lot of people think of them as a “lesser race” or as unimportant, or inconsequential – but as proven by Tolkien’s stories, the hobbits have hidden treasures among themselves that make their race one quite amazing. As said before, the hobbits have a naturally good temper, in all the sense of the terms. They are not prone to vices or corruptions like Mankind, and while they are definitively not as perfect as elves, unlike them they can resist better the magical temptations and corruptions of evil. Their small-sized ideas and practical view of the world is what causes their narrow-mindedness in the first place, but also what prevents them from the evils of ambition. They are talented at shooting things thanks to their great aiming skill and great sight, and when they want they can sneak extremely quietly. When in need, to defend someone or for a noble cause, they can become brave and courageous adventurers, as well as strong and fierce warriors – it just needs them something that can break them out of their natural softness and hedonistic, complacent lifestyle. And one cannot stress enough their hardness and resistance, in morals, spirit and body. They are said to be the race less prone to corruption in front of evil’s powers and temptations ; they also are renowned for their great physical endurance, allowing them to heal from wounds or resist diseases much more than even the strongest humans can.

III) Origins

Where do the hobbits come from? No idea.

Hobbits are considered in-universe to be their own unique species. They have enough differences with Dwarves and Elves for people to ban any kind of ties with them – but despite not being considered Men (and humans deeming them different from them), the hobbits have a strong connection to mankind. They are noted to have the “Gift of Men” (aka the ability to die) like other men ; their culture and languages are very similar if not identical to those of Men… This all led most people to assume, in-universe, that they are somehow related to the race of Men, or some sort of off-shoot of the human species.

But the how, why and when are the important questions. Some argue that the hobbits were probably there at the arrival/waking of the “Younger Children of Iluvatar” (aka when the big God decided to have humanity appear on earth), and so co-existed with Mankind since its creation ; while others argue that they maybe started to form in the early days of humanity, when a branch of early men started living on their own and somehow knew their own, distinctive evolution. It is a very unclear and mysterious topic, especially since hobbits are never mentioned or talked about in the Elves historical texts – in fact, it has been noted that the hobbits managed to live for millennia hidden or far-away from all the other species of Middle-Earth, only being recorded in history at the start of the Third Age.

In fact, the hobbits strange origins seem to tie to their great adaptability. Hobbits are noted to be able to change – which is quite ironic given how the hobbits are also specifically “unchanged” in front of magical corruption and evil influences. But the hobbits, when they leave their community and start travelling around, are noted to actually change their habits and customs slightly to better fit with heir host species, and they have quite a talent at learning and practicing other languages. They are also said to have such strong bodies and constitutions that they can adapt in many different environments (they can even resist better than any human would have the toxicity of the Mordor’s volcanic area). And this strange “adaptiveness” seems to manifest in the three “primordial clans”, or three main “breeds” of Hobbits that each seem to take different traits.

The ”main” hobbits, the “by default” hobbit, the “common” hobbit is the Harfoot hobbit, whose name means “hairy feet”. All I described above applies to them – they are the breed living in highlands and hillsides, and the one the protagonists belong to. But then you have the Fallohides, who were much friendlier and closer with Elves than regular hobbits and thus it changed them – their physical appearance (their name means “pale skin”), but also their culture, as they reject the rustic nature of other hobbits to favor forest-roaming, hunting, and a focus on songs, languages and trees, while neglecting other arts such as handicrafts, farming or agriculture. In return, the third breed, the Stoors, are noted to be much closer to Men and thus look more like them (their name means “large/strong”) but also act more like them – being fishermen living by riversides, despite the hobbits’ renowned fear of water and common inability to swim, and wearing boots unlike their barefeet counterparts.

- - - - - -

In Tolkien’s world, hobbits don’t live in typical “homes” in our sense of the term. They live in “smials”, aka hobbit-holes. They are homes dug into holes and tunnels by the side of mounds and hills, underground habits that look like a perfectly normal home inside, but just happened to be built in the natural landscape. The poorer hobbits just lived in a furniture-filled burrow with a door and a window (or even no window at all – imagine the Winnie the Pooh house), while the richer hobbits have true underground manors spreading over a deep levels of tunnels and basements. The smial were the typical habitats of the Harfoots, who cherished these homes. They were transmitted from generation to generation, resulting in them being quite ancient of age, and at need extended them with additional holes and tunnels if the clan grew bigger (or if two families united as one).

When it comes to the name “hobbit”, Tolkien himself admitted that he wasn’t sure if he invented the word, or if he had learned about it before and forgot/if the word pre-existed him but he hadn’t discovered it. As later study turned out, “hobbit” was indeed used and existed before Tolkien, but in very different concepts – so while Tolkien did not technically invent the word “hobbit” (just like he did not technically invent the word “orc”), he still created the hobbit as the iconic creature we know today. He based them on the people and culture of the English countryside as he knew and loved ; and so, due to them being his pure invention, “hobbit” is now a trademarked named owned by the Tolkien Estate.

When D&D in its first editions included hobbits (because first-edition D&D basically took a LOT from Tolkien), they were then faced with a suing process, and so had to rewrite their hobbits as slightly different, and give them a new name: Halfling. Which isn’t a name D&D invented either – “halfling” is an alternate name for the hobbits, used by the Men (because when they first discovered them, the hobbits proved to be half of a man’s size, and so they were called “halflings” aka “half-men”). Since then people have used “Halfling” as a way to place hobbit-like creatures in their stories without actually just copy-pasting the hobbits as invented by Tolkien.

Another fun fact: Tolkien presented his books as English translations of the actual texts and stories from Middle-Earth. So “Hobbit” is not the actual in-universe name of the species: the actual name of the hobbits is “kudugin” (kuduk in singular), which comes from “kûd-dûkan” (hole-builder), and so Tolkien proposed a “translation” as hobbit, from “holbytla” (Old English for hole-builder). [Sorry if the post is weirdly written, I don't feel very well this morning. Maybe I'll rewrite it in the future, who knows ]

#cold winter #hobbits #tolkien's legendarium

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