#just also wanting to offer comfort to the other soft hearted gentle/anxious folks out there <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[sillywabbits]

❤️ *DCA Depiction Validation Post Below* ❤️

Don't know who else needs to hear this but-

Just a validation post that even with all the cool new canon lore for Help Wanted 2 being out

Your AU's and depictions of the DCA'S are still valid

From my understanding a lot of the games and entries to the series have always kinda been their own self contained things

And so are your AU's. Valid and lovely just the way they are. In their own lovely self contained universes.

It's okay if your AU strays far from the source material. It's okay if it's strictly closer.

This wonderful fandom was built upon pretty little source material to begin with. And we've always supported each other and each other's marvelous ideas no matter how close or far to the canon they were.

Let's continue to do that. It's what this community has always done best. ❤️

I love you all~ You all are loved.

[highqueenofelfhame]

Follow my writing blog @highqueenofelfhamewrites! Turn on post notifs there for more reliable updates, i don’t do a tag list anymore! Sorry folks. Master list is on my pinned post (use the google doc version if the other doesn’t work.)

Part one

Rowan could tell when Aelin was screening his calls. He could tell when she was busy with work around her family’s multi-million dollar company because it would ring through to her voicemail— words he could recite like a script by now.

Hi! You’ve missed me, which is horribly sad for you, but if you leave a message maybe you’ll be lucky enough for a call back.

Rowan never was.

He could tell when she saw it was him calling and chose to reject the call, sending him to the void of her mailbox. Every call went unreturned, every text he was quite sure was deleted as soon as it appeared on her screen. There had even been a handful of times that he’d knocked on her apartment door, each thud of his fist echoing into the sound of the television beyond. Once, he thought maybe she was going to answer, the door knob jingling like she’d wrapped her fingers around it and prepared to pull. Yet her soft footsteps had retreated. There was no getting through the golden girl who had poured fire and sunlight into his life after spending so much time sulking in shadow.

The worst part of all of it was that she couldn’t have been more wrong about their relationship, his feelings for her, about every bit of it. She had sent him away before he could protest and though he knew he’d had a moment to try, Rowan was also sure more than anything she wouldn’t have believed a single word out of his mouth. Instead of lazing in bed with Aelin the last few weeks, he had managed to endure the radio silence with nothing but a brooding attitude and shattered heart while he trudged through his days.

So when he spotted her coming out of her favorite coffee shop early in the morning, blissfully sipping the iced caramel macchiato that she had every day, Rowan had bolted across four lanes of traffic without a second thought of what he was doing. Car horns blared and brakes screeched as he ran, one car coming so close to hitting him that his hands slammed onto the hood of the car while he mouthed an apology he didn’t mean. He would have gladly let that car hit him if it’d gotten her attention. It said plenty about his desperation that he was willing to lose life and limb just to have her simply look at him.

“Aelin!” he shouted once, twice, four times while he jogged down the sidewalk. Bewildered eyes tracked the seemingly crazed man while he chased the woman down. A police officer had even taken notice, following at a brisk pace that Rowan was oblivious to. He was close enough to hear the click of her heels down the cement while she dutifully ignored every syllable of her name that exploded from his lips.

“Aelin!” he shouted one more time. Heads turned their way the same time his hand wrapped around her bicep and jolted her to a stop.

In her surprise, the grip on her cup tightened and the lid popped off, sloshing a chilly espresso drink down her bare legs and into her shoes. Rowan was sure he would have to grovel for ruining the patent black heels, but it would be worth it if she would just listen to him.

“Rowan,” she said, shock lacing her tone as she pulled an earbud free and looked down at her stained skirt and soaked toes. A frown had tugged her lips into a frown as the officer caught up with them, hand going to Rowan’s chest like he intended to put space between them.

“Is everything okay, miss?”

“I— what? Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Her voice was vacant but dismissive while she waved her hand nonchalantly, eyes not leaving the ground. The officer looked skeptical but finally distanced himself by trailing a few feet away. As annoying as it was, there was a surge of comfort knowing if he had been some creep, someone would have stepped in for her sake.

“You can’t drop some bomb like that and then ghost me.” Sure, there were more delicate ways to put it but Rowan was beyond that. With her eyes still averted to her feet, frustration was boiling under his skin. What the hell was it going to take to get her to look at him? Just as he was willing to kneel at her feet to catch her eyes, she looked up at him with that frown pulling even tighter.

“There’s coffee in my shoes.”

“I’ll buy you some new godsdamn shoes if you’ll look at me for five minutes and let me talk.”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If that’s still what you want when I’m finished, yes. I’ll buy your shoes and leave you alone.”

Aelin’s mouth twisted to the side while she thought. Despite the offer, Rowan could see the hesitation in her eyes, that golden core of her iris flickering like a flame.

“Fine,” she said, finally. Her arms crossed over her chest, freshly painted black nails digging into the white button down shirt she wore. “You have five minutes or less. I have to get to work.”

The tone of her voice was strong and tense, but the anxious bouncing of her foot and the way she was wiggling her fingers along her biceps to a melody only she could hear. It was a habit, he noticed, that when she got anxious she would drum her fingers along to the Stygian Suite to keep her emotions at bay. He wished she wouldn’t.

“You are… I’m so mad at you, Aelin.”

“You’re making really good use of your five minutes, I—“

“Would you let me speak?” Aelin’s mouth snipped shut, jaw popping from the tense lock.

“I’m so mad at you. For about a hundred different reasons but mostly thinking you could tell me you were in love with me and then not letting me have a single word in. For telling me you love me and making me leave in a way that I knew if I stayed to fight it would only make it worse. And then as if that wasn’t enough, you stopped talking to me. Stopped taking my calls. Stopped answering the door. Told Aedion to stop giving me updates about you because I didn’t deserve to know. Which is so much bullshit, by the way.”

“Do you have to yell at me like this in public?” Her voice was soft, eyes downcast at her coffee sodden shoes. Rowan glanced around for the first time, taking in the small crowd that had stopped their busy morning to see what the commotion was about. It was then, with her bottom lip quivering and an audience around them, that he pulled her hands from where they pressed into her arms. Rowan guided them around his waist even though she resisted, then took her face in his hands with heartbreaking gentleness that made one of her tears finally slip free.

“I’m sorry that I yelled,” he said quietly, bending down to kiss another fallen tear. “But, baby, I have been in love with you since I met you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“You love me?”

“If you had just told me like a normal person—“

“Chasing me down the street in downtown Orynth and shouting at me is like a normal person?”

“Desperate times. I almost got hit by a car. You missed the good parts when you had your headphones in.” Instead of laughing like he hoped, Aelin reared back and immediately began to inspect him.

“Hit by a car!? Rowan Matthias!”

“I’m fine.” Aelin huffed, pulling away from him and folding her arms back over her chest. Rowan’s hands slowly fell back to his sides, desperate to hide in his pockets from what felt like a rejection. A stern look that he’d seen several times on her father’s face took over her features, setting them in stone while she tapped a sloshy toe.

“Be that as it may, you got something in your story wrong.”

“Have I, now?”

“You have. See, I never told you that I was in love with you. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own, and—“

Rowan couldn’t help it, he started laughing as the corners of her mouth began to twitch. He took her face back in his hands and leaned down to kiss her, something slow and sweet and full of promises he couldn’t keep in the middle of a busy street.

“Don’t make me drag you home and coax a confession out of you,” he mumbled into her mouth, sweeping his tongue in lazy strokes that he knew she liked on other parts of her body.

Aelin’s lips spread into a full grin as her arms settled around his neck, the remainder of her coffee dribbling down his back and seeping through to his skin. He couldn’t find a single reason to care as she whispered, “I was kind of counting on it.”

[terato-onlyfangs]

Two Wolves and The Scaredy Bat

Geralt x Reader x Regis

Warnings: Fluff, some swearing, the reader are anxious, but that won't last long. The reader shreds their clothes at one point.

Words: 2086

----

Toussaint was so different from Skellige, so this experience is vastly different. So colorful, the sun and sky only bared bright and clear skies. The lack of bloodshed was also highly noted and highly appreciated. A month after you fell in love with two interesting folks, it felt as if you knew them for your whole life with only a week. And now you've been with them for 3 weeks. Geralt and Regis were very open, yet they didn't pry into your life. You did say you were from Skellige, plus a few stories that wouldn't reveal your dark secret. So the lack of prying was rather nice.

Later tonight was set for a date, a calm one at that. Just to sit in the woods, sit near the fire, and chat our hearts off. It was quite reasonable since you're rather new yet so it was a nice way to get to know each other. Plus, you were rather fond of simple dates, and Geralt full-heartedly agreed to that. Regis didn't seem to mind, however. Seemingly more expandable, and honestly that was rather comforting. Forever in your heart will love nature, but it's time to put a paw into civilization.

Typically, you would visit the two even if it was date night. For once you chose to stay in the woods. Transforming into your beastly form, not to hunt or kill, but to lie in the grass. To scratch your back on trees once again and with less worry of a random attack. No one knew what you were, what you are. A nice transition and again very much needed. No more useless bloodshed. Though spending most of the day in the woods meant you needed to bathe and get dressed beforehand. So that you did. Even using some of the lotion that Regis had given you, that sure was going to make the Vampire happy. You wore something nice, but nothing too fancy. A simple white button-up shirt and new Hunter's pants graced your form.

You found the two at their humble vineyard garden. A beautiful sight alone when the sun is high, but remarkably gorgeous when the sun sets. A view that only made your old heart flutter at your new boyfriends that waved for you.

"Long time no see", Geralt joked. Seemingly in a good mood, probably from Regis. Which caused a chuckle, once he gave one hell of a bear hug. "Missed you too, big guy."

Once Geralt put you down, Regis gave a much sweeter and a gentle hug, nevertheless still very welcoming. "It's great to see you again!", Regis greeted addictively warmly. "Hmm, I sense you used the lotion that I gave you."

"I have and am." You smiled, enjoying the hugs. Only to frown once Emiel pulled away. A soft laugh came from the vampire, though grabbing Geralt's than my own hand. Happily, we were guided into the woods. Enjoying a quiet walk with each other was rather nice. Soon setting up near where I was earlier that day. Oddly Regis seemed tense, though, did not mention why. Perhaps wanting to keep the date afloat. Quickly the night came, luckily we had everything set. Even though we didn't need the sun's light, but the two didn't know I didn't need it. Hence the fire, besides keeping Geralt and I warm. Geralt took out the drinks, alcohol, and passed everyone some since he was in the middle. The moon was simply a slit, no full moon thankfully. Much harder to control your transformation in the full moon. Though the sky was beautiful, much clearer than what you've usually seen.

"I've never seen the sky this beautiful before.", completely awestruck by the scene your boyfriends only smiled. Used to the starry sky by seeing it many times over.

"It is a nice night, if I may say so."

Geralt agreed, "It is nice. The skies are usually cloudy in Skellige. So I'm sure this is new to you.", The Witcher smiled at you. It warmed your heart that he knew quite a bit on Skellige. So you nod and smiled back. "It is, even on cloudless nights, it's never been this beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you, my dear."

"You sly bastard. Thank you though"

Geralt snorted at your soft remark midway gulping down some booze. Almost choking, quickly recovering thankfully. Regis only shook his head, holding a smile as he sipped his drink.

"Not a problem. And Geralt, you too look very beautiful as well. Even chocking on alcohol. ", Regis jested though amused by Geralt's earlier snorting.

"Oh, hush", Geralt smirked before placing a quick kiss on his lips before giving you the same treatment. But the moment was interrupted by a twig being snapped suddenly, caused by an animal. Most likely a deer. But Regis' smooth demeanor changed by one of panic in a heartbeat.

"Werewolf!", Regis yelled, panic charged through him after hearing that snap. The scent of werewolf breezed through, which was created by you, was faint but it scared Regis so. But Geralt cruelly laughed, he knew they were safe here, otherwise, he wouldn't have laughed. And he hadn't seen Regis jump over, a werewolf for many, many years. No matter how hard he tried to scare Regis by thinking he was a werewolf which never worked. Especially when scents are remembered, Geralt's scent is something Emiel could never ever forget. For if he did, either he went insane or finally dead. However, through the panicking and Geralt snorting now, you grew rather nervous.

"Regis? A werewolf? Don't be silly.", now the fear of being no longer accepted haunts you, most likely mistaken for a fear of a werewolf as well. Regis took a deep breath through his nose, realizing his claws from his satchel strap. "Sorry, it was rather silly. My nerves flared up after catching an old scent. And I'm deathly afraid of werewolves."

"A vampire that's afraid of werewolves? Never heard of that before." Geralt jests but comforts Regis by wrapping an arm to his side. "We'll be fine. I promise I'll look around, here again, tomorrow. It is odd to see, or smell a werewolf in Toussaint."

Regis nodded, "It is and I'm not willing to see it.", singling the date was over once he left in a hurry. You and Geralt joined once the fire was put out. Though far behind now.

"Geralt, do you think all werewolves are bad?"

"Not all, I managed to help release curses from all that I can. That and they are difficult opponents to fight."

You only gave a nod. But gave a smile when he gave you a curious look, "I should go home before a big bad wolf gets me. And I'm sure Regis needs comfort."

Geralt didn't laugh at your wolf joke. It was concerning to him. Worried that the date went bad or you're scared of werewolves like Regis or even feeling left out somehow. "You sure you don't want to join us at my place? You can stay since your home is quite far away."

"I'm sure Geralt. Thank you for offering though.", you have his cheek a kiss before running off before he could protest or offer to take you home. No doubt Geralt has good intent, a real sweetheart even. But Regis's fear made you incredibly nervous. Distant and pained even. Can't blame his fear, however, werewolves are terrifying even to other werewolves. Most can't control themselves and even learning that control takes many, many years to perfect. Seemingly it's easier for non-cursed werewolves, ones that have been birthed through a werewolf parent. Which are almost rare on its own. Vincent, you believed was birthed, but words would always change a bit after being passed, and well Vincent was rather a popular talk amongst other werewolves. However, that's what you are, a birthed and non-curable werewolf. Something Regis no doubly feared. You sighed at your thoughts as you travel back into your house. Rather easy, to see in the dark, even when the moon has been just a slit. For some reason and you knew that your senses are sharper as a human yet not as sharp when you're in your beastly form. You thought it was odd, but yet you're from a long line of natural werewolves so maybe it's normal.

After a while, thoughts collecting, swirling, and twirling with anxiety and thoughts of your kind. Busying yourself, you reached your home. Actually tripping in your own yard. You stayed on the ground sighing, soon sitting up. Looking up. It was still a beautiful night. You suppose that the darkest time is yet to come, on the day of tomorrow. Better grab some rest, then, as you went back into your cabin.

New day, a restart in fresh air and light. Shame that marks of fear drowns the grace of nature. You travel to your boyfriend's house, greeted by Geralt. The Witcher was in his gear, most likely ready to look for that werewolf that made that stale scent.

"Hey (Y/N), sorry I'm not going to be able to talk for long. Regis is in the lab."

"Would it be okay if I joined you?"

"No, it's too dangerous for you."

"Please?"

"No, it's too much of a risk for you."

"Geralt please-", you sighed, "At least let me show you something at least." Grabbing his hand and dragging him to the woods before he could protest, you two were finally alone. Geralt huffed but stood with his arms crossed. "What did you want to show me?"

"Geralt.. I'm the werewolf."

"Really?"

"I was the werewolf that caused that scent. I can show you.", with that you walked away, giving yourself room for the transformation. Quickly, your monstrous form took shape. Geralt for once feared if you'd attack only because you looked much stronger than normal werewolves. Not only that, but you were rather huge, unbeknownst to him that you're rather older than he thought. Your fur was beautiful obsidian black, sleek and lustrous. Your eyes haven't changed, no pure instinct clouding your beautiful, calculated orbs. "I won't... attack." Or rasped hoarsely.

Geralt relaxed, releasing the grip of his silver sword. "You're a child of a werewolf, aren't you?." Simply you gave a nod, speaking was rather difficult in this form. You whine, scared even when you rest your head against Geralt.

"Are you in pain?", Geralt worried, yet petting your smooth fur. "No... What will.. Reegis thinhk.", words slurred but still able to be processed.

"I think no matter what, he'd love you still."

If you could smile you would. Tears would threaten to spill if you were in your human form. Rather hard to express some emotions in this form so you took it through a rather gentle hug. "Thannks. Geralt."

You moved away from Geralt, shocked to see Regis frozen, mouth agape. You were shocked, but not as shocked as he was, most likely hearing. No seeing everything, most likely wanting to tell his Witcher to be safe.

"Regis..."

"Is it truly you, (Y/N)? A werewolf?"

You nod, nervous, swallowing thickly. Geralt waved Regis over, and the vampire came. "I still love her, Regis."

Regis gave a nod, carefully gliding his hands to the sides of your head. "As do I. Never thought you were a werewolf. I'm sorry about my anxieties. I had a very bad experience with a werewolf when I was just a lad. However, it's not your fault." You shift, changing back to your human form. Instantly you grabbed Regis in a tight hug, those tears you were holding back came out. Geralt soon joins the hug pile, pick the both of you up slightly. "I love you two so much.. Sorry for not telling you both sooner."

"It's fine, we forgive you." Regis soon agrees, "That we do." With that, Geralt returns everyone back down on the ground. Soon noticing the tattered clothes on your frame. Barely hanging onto your body. "Oh my, I'm sure we can lend you some of our clothes", Regis kept his eyes on your face. "That would be appreciated.", you chuckled nervously.

You two quickly returned to the vineyard home. Stealing some of Geralt's clothes. Returning to the boys, only to be thrown on the bed for some cuddles. Your worry and anxiety are all gone as both of their arms wrapped around you. Peppered with nothing but love.

"I love you guys."

"Love you too."

"I love you as well."

----

[angedemystere]

Bagginshield headcanon fic: wedding ring gemstones

Gemstones are not required in Dwarven rings, but they are common enough that they’re worth considering when the king smiths a ring for his consort. If there is a gemstone, it must perfectly suit the future wearer like the rest of the design. Everyone agrees that it’s an important part of the courtship process and should take as long as needed to complete. But Thorin hates deliberating as much as he does. He is dissatisfied with his uncertainty as he scours over the vast stores of jewels that have been harvested and cut, mostly before Erebor’s fall. Gems never fade in quality from just lying in untouched, moldering carts. As the physical and cultural structures of the kingdom are restored, many returning folk are eager to exercise their crafts, including the jewelers and gem cutters. Thorin is more than pleased for them, but he’s also anxious about making good use of the functioning workshops to hunt down the appropriate stone for his future husband’s ring.

“I doubt Hobbits care much about the meanings behind them,” Balin says after a couple months of fruitless, frustrated searching. “Bilbo certainly doesn’t care. He’ll appreciate whatever you make him.”

Bilbo’s Hobbit nature and only burgeoning knowledge of Dwarven customs is no excuse for laziness. But Thorin does know when too much fretting tips his efforts into self-defeat--eventually. In time, he lets other duties distract him. The matter sits for nearly a month. The respite untangles the complications he’s made out the issue. It shouldn’t be so difficult to decide if a ruby or an emerald or a sapphire or a diamond deserves to sit on his beloved’s finger.

Like most personal matters, it comes down to one essential question. What truly reflects Bilbo’s character and importance to him? There’s an obvious answer--no one gemstone could capture the breadth of Thorin’s feelings or Bilbo’s beauty in heart and spirit.

The real answer comes in two parts.

Thorin sometimes seeks reflective solitude in the Hall of Kings. The reason might seem obvious, but in fact it has only partly to do with the statues of Thror and Thrain now at the far end of the room. It isn’t comfort but a sobering reminder that grounds him. There’s still the gold on the floor. Removal might be possible, but it would be an extensive process, one not presently demanding urgency. Silver might be a welcomed change to better match the white light falling from high above between Thorin’s father and grandfather.

The Arkenstone, he decided shortly after the battle for Erebor, should not return to the throne. Some Dwarves questioned this, naturally. Was it not his goal to reclaim it with the very throne it once adorned? In another state of mind, Thorin would want nothing less than to have the gleaming jewel above his gold-wreathed head. That gives him strong reason to resist the desire. And he does believe, with encouragement from all the Company, that the Arkenstone does not make him the King Under the Mountain. Even Dain has relented and promised his full support if any Dwarf lords make a stink about it. So the Arkenstone stands guard above Thorin’s predecessors. It feels more and more right. It isn’t his jewel. It belongs to his family. It will forever shine on this proud legacy, and it will forever recall to Thorin the dangers that sprout from unchecked pride in that legacy, and from the desperation to meet its merit. In this very room, Thorin nearly lost himself, and he found himself again. In the piercing, unforgiving reflection of the gold floor, he heard the voice that brought him back.

“Hello.”

A gasp leaves him even as he recognizes the speaker. A playful apology comes as Thorin turns to meet him.

“Hard not to give you a start when you’re in one of your reveries, though,” Bilbo continues. “If I get through to you at all.”

Thorin smiles. “You manage, somehow.”

“I do hope so.” He soon has Thorin’s arm in his hold, almost like he’s anchoring him so Thorin doesn’t slip into the past. “Is there anything you wish to discuss?”

By reflex, Thorin thinks he means matters about Erebor’s reconstruction. A list of topics runs through his head before he knows better. He sweeps a look around the room before answering. “I’m not troubled, exactly. But I’m still ... anxious, I suppose.”

“About anything in particular?” Bilbo offers to give him some direction. He’s patient, knowing, calm and steady.

“Many things,” Thorin admits with a scratchy laugh. Bilbo’s mild reprimand in his tilting head is answered with a raised eyebrow, followed by a more sincere half-smile. “If I’m a little anxious, I take that as a sign I’m doing the best I can to be worthy of this crown.”

Bilbo brushes some hair underneath that crown--silver and more understated than its predecessor--before giving one of Thorin’s braids a gentle tug. “You’re allowed to be king and be at peace, you walnut.”

“You’re living proof of that,” Thorin teases.

“Hah. I’ll turn your whole head gray in a couple years.”

“Then it will match my crown.”

With a frown that tries to be truly annoyed, Bilbo grips the large hand that makes his own dainty in comparison. One of Thorin’s rings catches the soft light from the Arkenstone. Bilbo regards it with unsettled feelings. Thorin follows his sight-line and waits for him to speak.

“Up there, it looks rather pleasant,” Bilbo delivers dryly.

“I agree,” Thorin says, more lighthearted. “Like one of the stars that Durin the Deathless saw above his head when he awoke.”

Bilbo hums and absently strokes Thorin’s fingers, utterly unaware. Thorin’s pulse jumps a little happily at the chance to watch his beloved in his own reverie. His pensive scowl pulls at the lines of his face but brings out the strength of his stare. Such a stare, full of depths Thorin would never have seen in that cozy, warm domicile Bilbo once called home.

His thoughts run in a few directions. Perhaps there and then they realize they’ve hit on a gem of an epiphany. Consciously, though, Thorin only thinks of Bilbo’s dark, lovely eyes, then of the Arkenstone with radiance that’s both divine and deceptive.

Two days later, Thorin is taken by the inclination to visit the gem cutters’ workshop again. He warns himself not to look for anything in particular. If Mahal wishes it, the answer will make itself known. It might help being preoccupied by the most recent diplomatic meeting with Bard and his advisers from Dale. They still have much to negotiate, especially the pricing of goods on both sides. Bilbo threw in his own opinion, that they should err on the side of generosity. A fine sentiment for Hobbits, many Dwarf lords said, not entirely kindly, but they could not be expected to adopt Hobbit customs.

Dwarves are who they are, and they value their crafts very highly. Mahal instilled this love of precious metals and stones and the desire to fashion them into the most beautiful workmanship. It would be wrong to deny this simply to appease to a neighboring kingdom. Yet Thorin reflects on what the opposite extreme can effect. He recalls his own words when he was certain death was upon him: If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place.

No, Dwarves are not Hobbits. But he, a Dwarven king, loves a Hobbit and has learned much from him. Wisdom and courage, blended in measure. He will find some fair measure with these trade deals. Yes, even with the Elves of Mirkwood, Durin help him.

These thoughts tread through his mind as he treads through the workshop, attentive enough not to be in the way of the laborers so devotedly engrossed in their work. Not but a minute or two after his musings have moved on from the above point, a box of black gems snatches his eye. Not the blackness itself, but what catches the light within it. Thorin’s heart jumps. His feet stop. He respectfully but intently leans over the shoulder of the Dwarrowdam. She’s holding one of the gems, and he asks her about them. She has only to answer a few questions before he knows he’s found the answer. He wonders if he’s known for even longer.

Thorin asks Bilbo for a private audience almost a week later. They meet in the Hall of Kings, beside one of the pillars so they will not be surprised by anyone. He will make a formal presentation when the ring meets Bilbo’s entire approval. Custom allows any dwarf to consult the wishes of his spouse-to-be once a prototype is made. Bilbo, ever practical, insists that he does not demand perfection, that it matters more for Thorin to not lose sleep over an impossible ideal. Thorin nods, wise enough to respect his good sense while determined to take whatever pains necessary to please him. Still, he didn’t resist placing the ring in a little box and having Bilbo open it. For all his repeated assures that alterations can be easily done, Bilbo doesn’t pay it mind. He’s too busy gaping for close to a minute before even saying a word. That has to be a first.

“It’s stunning!” he finally proclaims. He fixes a narrowed eye on the stone. “I’ve never seen a jewel like this.”

“I’d quite forgotten it myself,” Thorin says. He scoops up Bilbo’s other hand and leads him to the middle of the hall so the light can dance on the stone. Another gasp leaves Bilbo. He sees now what Thorin saw in the gem-cutters’ workroom. When he holds the ring at a favorable angle, any light--from torch or lantern or starry jewel high above--the heart of the black deep flares into a rainbow.

“It’s a black opal,” Thorin says.

“Goodness! It’s quite mysterious. Why did you choose it?”

“The gemstone represents the character of the wearer and what he means to the giver.”

Bilbo smiles with a little mischief. “So this is how you see me? I must be quite the enigma.”

“In many ways, you remain so, and I cherish it.” Thorin needs only one hand to cup Bilbo’s wrist, but holds the ring-bearing hand with both of his. “At first, a black opal may appear to be a simple black stone. When we first met, you were, to me, just as plain and inscrutable. I underestimated your worth. But in time, and often in my darkest moments, your brilliance and beauty shined through.”

“Oh,” Bilbo grumbles, trying not to appear moved, though he swallows and struggles to hold Thorin’s gaze.

Thorin likes his Hobbit brash, yet it’s all the more satisfying when he is bashful, and grumpy over being bashful. But he has hopes for yet another reaction. “Look at the inscription inside the band,” he says.

Bilbo slips off the ring. Indeed, there are runes carved in a minute hand. He has studied runes enough to read them. These translate into Westron, so it does not take long for him to glean the message.

“For my ... greatest treasure, a light ... oh. A light ...” The words stop up Bilbo’s throat, no matter how he tries to clear it.

“For my greatest treasure,” Thorin says smoothly. He doesn’t need to read the words. “A light in the darkness.” He keeps holding and faintly brushing Bilbo’s fingers. “So, what do you think?”

Bilbo blinks, slightly shakes his head, still wrapping it around what he’s been given. He tries to hold the reins of his facial expressions, and does it fairly well. That’s why Thorin nearly falls forward when Bilbo grabs his collar and drags him down into a kiss. 

“Forget what I said about not wanting perfection,” he mutters after a long wordless embrace.

Thorin doesn’t doubt that anyone passing anywhere near the Hall of Kings can see him being claimed in another kiss. Any worries about propriety, witnesses and modifications can wait.

[mitsuhasnolifebutwatchesanime]

A deeper look at my favorite anime: Natsume’s Book of Friends

Wow, I have been running this blog for four years now. That’s a long time to spout out my shit opinions on everything. One thing that has surprisingly not changed though has been my favorite anime. I feel bad because my original review for the series was written 4 years ago. I had just started college, I had no real sense of objectivity and boy, I LOVED Natsume’s Book of Friends obsessively.

Since I hit almost 400 watched anime series on MyAnimeList, I think it’s safe to say now I know what’s good and what isn’t good, and it is good. With the manga series now going on 20+ volumes, the anime renewed for a sixth season, and the Nyanko sensei merchandising coming out every little crevice in Japan, I think it’s safe to assume Natsume’s Book of Friends is loved by many, but why? And especially, why do I like it? I’d like to take a second, deeper look at why this anime works, and hopefully convince you to give my favorite series a try!

A look into traditional Japanese lore and mythology

First off, I wanna talk about the awesome designs and mythology that thoughtfully goes into each youkai character. Yuki Midorikawa is a wonderful author and if you read the manga, you’ll see she breaks down each storyline at the end of the manga as to why she chose/designed the youkai in question, and how they fit into the particular plot. It’s not quite shallow like “it looks good,” and it’s not always entirely original. Some of the youkai designs are taken from actual Shinto mythology, where the idea is that almost everything has a spirit.

Her designs remind me a lot of a similar series, Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro-san, which also is about the world of youkai and how they can have an effect on the world of humans. Back to my main point though, the yokai are thoughtful in design. They are beautiful, terrifying, cute, hilarious, and overall a delight to the senses. There is variety in not only their design, but their personalities and character development as well. It’s very good that this series is focused on making youkai as human as possible without having them be human.

Also if you’re interested in learning more about youkai, NHK World did an awesome Begin Japanology about it, and it’s a DELIGHTFUL watch.

Takashi Natsume is a relatable and deep character

I understand relating to characters. Characters have to be relatable for the real immersive experience to really get into the media they’re in.  Nothing makes me more upset than a dull, passive main character intended for projection. Then again, I’m also a little hesitant about people who say an anime or an anime character “saved” them. This anime came out when I was recovering from a very hard time in my life, so naturally, I related to Takashi a lot. I wouldn’t say this anime saved me though. I was already healing and had the support I needed, and when the anime ended, I didn’t stake my life on it. That’s just unhealthy.

It is healthy, however, to have an outlet like anime to learn and understand complex emotions, situations, and put your own life into perspective. The reason why I related so much to Takashi, aside from the rough childhood (nowhere near as rough, my parents are alive and healthy) and his anxiety is that he distanced himself from both worlds. He doesn’t want to get close to people in the fear of hurting others and being hurt, and at a time I was just learning to understand and really make friends with people, it was really relatable. Takashi hides, not just his ability to see Youkai from others, but the issues it brings from the friends who know he has this ability. When he is deeply suffering, he’s afraid to get people involved in the event it’ll hurt them. He’s burdened in later seasons with keeping more and more secrets, and you can see it’s hurting him trying to not hurt others. Nothing is quite as awful as when you finally break and you end up crying in front of the person you most of all didn’t want to involve. You feel vulnerable and open, and seeing Takashi reach that breaking point in “The Long Way Home,” I really felt for Takashi deeply. No major spoilers here (as this episode mostly takes place in a flashback), but this is the first time Takashi really truly feels selfish enough to ask for something: a loving home when it’s offered to him, and the thought of it just crushes him and I hurt thinking about it.

Quality animation and aesthetics

Okay, sliding that emotional stuff aside, let’s get back to the technical parts of the anime. This anime is beautiful, and what’s really great is it didn’t necessarily start out this way. The first two seasons of Natsume’s Book of Friends don’t have the best animation in the world. The anime relies heavily on scenery pieces, close-ups, gentle slow motions, and some hyper animated action sequences. It’s hard to balance those well without trimming the edges somewhere. Upon rewatching some episodes with my friend I kept nothing places where there were long frames of animation with lots of mistakes in it, but it didn’t necessarily detract from the overall aesthetic.

The style and animation for this series over it’s, so far, five seasons of animation is so fluid. It really makes me grin thinking that only the studio has changed, yet the entire core crew appears to still be around. It gets more beautiful every episode, sometimes the style gets more and more smooth and fluid, other times its more serious and ridged. Still, the soft color pallet that stays throughout the anime, the gentle soundtrack, and sketchy, softer shapes in the series remain very faithful. Also, considering how people complain about adaptations in general, it isn’t a perfect adaptation.

Takashi’s hair and eye color are changed from silver to a kind of deep hay or gold color for the anime. The series is so episodic, the arrangement is almost entirely out of order to where the anime has had to change the seasons of some episodes just to get them to fit into the timeline, unless that season pertains to the storyline of the episode itself. It’s so freaking weird and neat.

That Soundtrack

The soundtrack, which you can listen to a majority of on YouTube, is beautiful. Sometimes it’s weird and a little other worldly like the youkai themselves, or it’ll lull you into a comfortable, at home feeling. I own most of the soundtrack, it’s entirely relaxing and just melts me when I listen to it.

Midorikawa’s other work, Hotarubi no Mori e, also has a gorgeous soundtrack composed by (I THINK) the same person who did the Natsume’s Book of Friends soundtrack, so if you like this soundtrack, you should check out Hotarubi’s too. I especially recommend the title theme if you want some painful feelings.

A lesson of empathy and developing themes

I’m not sure I’ve seen many anime longer than this. I’ve tried many, but it’s hard to start a series when it already has so much material out there. I was fortunate to start it from a little after its Japanese debut, and to have grown with it. I love watching the characters grow and develop as well.

While the series is very episodic to where at this point, I can watch any episode, and I even got someone to watch an episode from each season a few weeks ago, there is continuity. Takashi is a growing boy. He grows, physically and emotionally throughout the series and those differences are striking between seasons one and five for example. He’s is so withdrawn at first, shy, avoids eye contact, and is extra jumpy. In season five, he smiles more genuinely, allows himself to laugh, and finds himself leaning more towards trying to be open towards his friends, the youkai, and the Fujiwaras. Seeing him open up melts my heart. It makes me honestly proud of him like someone would be for their child, which I know is silly, but I’ve been watching this show for ten years now. Ten years is a commitment, folks!

Takashi, in the first few seasons, is very skeptical, fearful, and anxious about anyone and everyone getting near him, especially youkai. Watching him develop into this character that’s determined to be kind, to treat youkai like he would a human, and give everyone the benefit of the doubt no matter if they deserve it or not, is endearing.

I think it’s character writing at its best, and it’s not just Takashi that changes, but the people around him. From the people he cares about opening up as well and growing, to the youkai making an effort to understand humans and their customs, to even Nyanko-sensei becoming attached to Takashi beyond being prey, but a friend, is very exciting to see.

This series means a lot to me, and it’s one of the reasons I decided to start pursuing writing, opening this blog, and making an effort to find anime like it. If you try out Natsume’s Book of Friends and have any thoughts you’d like to share with me, I’d love to hear them. If you want similar anime to it recommended to you if you already like the series and are looking out for something new, talk to me.