#kiln of the first flame
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azotho · 7 months ago
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Praise the eclipse✨ Funny it wasn't just me who thought of this game lol
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And surprisingly, or not surprisingly, I could see some ashen ones gathered at the hot spot of PvP even now.
Irithyll never would be free of the madness… you know what I mean if you were there lol
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areas-of-fromsoft · 2 years ago
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Round 1, Match 11. Best area DS1?
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*Darkroot Garden also includes Darkroot Basin*
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echolesschamber · 1 year ago
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Kiln of the First Flame, one of the most astonishing and breathtaking locations in Dark Souls.
scan from Dark Souls Design Works
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sunlight-maggot · 2 years ago
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Marx Souls
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indiiglow · 4 months ago
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Impeccable vibes indeed 👌
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^ those are the SAME GOD DAMN COLORS as that iconic Dark Souls 3 image and I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. So fucking good. 10/10
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v-iv-rusty · 2 years ago
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dont talk to me or my son ever again
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flocktothelight · 1 month ago
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Sometimes i get that FOMO over my skykids not looking Cool and Stylish enough to fit in the sky community
But then I have to make myself STOP and remember that I actually really enjoy my mothy little designs when I’m playing, which is most important. Things I love about a moth design:
- I love the way the basic capes flow behind you when you run around. I love that the brown is such a pleasant brown especially with its beautiful cream lining. It lights up dark places so beautifully!
- I love moth outfits! I love that it makes sky kids look like candles themselves with the cylinder shapes. The hide and seek dress was the first item i really intentionally worked hard for, so it means so much to me
- I love moth hair, there are such cute basic styles. I love how all the hairs flow like flames atop a candle
- i love how the moth mask looks like a little face ( o-o )
- I love that in pure concept we’re all candles and kilns and pottery and something certainly not human or even fleshy
- I love appreciating the items I have and how much work I put into getting each piece
I dont know, i love sky and I love how cute everyone is no matter how many cosmetics they have
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fithragaer · 1 year ago
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nvm got it
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Suggestions for bg colors other than red bc im not really feeling it...
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sarahs-art-space · 4 months ago
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I painted the Kiln of the First Flame from Dark Souls 3!
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Original and prints available in my etsy!
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chirpycloudyrobin · 5 months ago
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Devil Flute Upon Graves AU Masterlist
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A masterlist for my Calamity!Wei Wuxian AU where Wei Wuxian died and became the Ghost King of the Burial Mounds.
Not formally written (for now), just a collection of rambly posts
NOW IN FANFICTION FORM EYYY
Main Tag
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MAIN STORYLINE
>> TUMBLR POSTS <<
Beginning, general rundown/outline of the AU
Part 1 - covers wwx's emergence from the kiln, the (failed) sacrificial summoning, mo village, dafan mountain. also has notes on wwx's fake names
Part 2 - return to the cloud recesses, bit of a backstory on how wwx recovered after self-destructing and also how he met hua cheng and xie lian
Interlude 1 - jin ling being raised by gods!xuanli, their deputy gods, and jiang cheng
TBC
>> AO3 FANFICTION <<
counting crows - scenes of when wwx discovers he's actually a ghost, to his adjustment to ghostly life (lol), to his first "death" during the first siege
when does a comet become a meteor? - wwx's journey from being a weakened ghost flame to his triumph at the kiln. features hualian as his emotional support parents and the burial mounds as the tiger mom no one asked for
stories from the resplendent skies - jiang yanli, jin zixuan and wen qing as heavenly officials
and thus the crow flies - main AU fic ! so basically everything that happens within the AU
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HEADCANONS & AU LORE
wei clan of xianle - my headcanon for the origins of the wei clan
The Bleeding Meadows of Yiling - what became of the Burial Mounds after Wei Wuxian leveled them
Eyes as Windows to a Dead Soul - discussing Wei Wuxian's eyes
CHARACTER SHEETS
Devil Flute Upon Graves, Wei Ying
Lady Water Master Yanli, Lady of the Lake
Fu Liang Jiangjun, Jin Zixuan
Goddess of Freshwater Springs, Zhang Shu
Wind and Rain Cutter, Fang Minrui
Triple Ghost Guardians of the Bleeding Meadows
WIP
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areas-of-fromsoft · 1 year ago
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DS3 Round 2, Match 5. Favourite Area?
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echolesschamber · 1 year ago
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Kiln of the First Flame
scan from Dark Souls Design Works
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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months ago
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seasons of you (year 1 - winter)
Blacksmith!Frankie Morales x F!Reader
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summary: your first winter in the valley brings in a frosty breeze & a push towards a certain blacksmith
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a farmer & has a family but no physical description, shy & sweet!Frankie, major pining & yearning, friends to something more, Frankie being previously married/a bit secretive about his life, gift exchange as love language, use of nickname (Frankie calls reader “little farmer” affectionately but it’s no reflection on reader’s size), blooming romance
word count: 5.6k
a/n: we’ve arrived to Frankie’s first piece in our Stardew AU series! We’re starting ‘in the middle of things’ & it’s meant to show how slow/shy our relationship with Frankie unfolds that romance just starts rolling now, plus I needed Frankie’s story to begin this way so something else can maybe unfold in year two but that’s all I’m gonna saying lol, again couldn’t have done this without @lowlights @swiftispunk @perotovar & @burntheedges you babes are my guiding stars always and I’m eternally grateful. And to you, if you’re reading this, thank you too lovely
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Snow crunches under your boots and the chilly air seeping through your coat feels different. This would be your first serious winter storm and you already sense it approaching.
Yanking open the blacksmith’s door, a wave of heat washes over and you sigh.
Thankfully Frankie’s shop is still open and you almost cry relieved.
“Sorry!” You apologize walking further towards the counter. “I know there’s five minutes left before closing, but I just wanted to swing by!”
You wanted to pick up your newly forged ax before the storm hit and of course…
You wanted to see him.
Autumn kept you so busy with the farm and the fall festival. Now you hope to see more of your favorite blacksmith.
Waiting for him, your eyes wander.
The shop, with its eternal flame flickering, holds so much personality in its walls. A military pilot flag hangs by the front. The low radio plays a soft rock ballad. A bulletin board by the side of the counter is covered in various flyers and photos. Your favorite snapshots are one of a smiling little baby girl with sweet chubby cheeks you still haven’t gotten to ask Frankie who she is. There’s another photo of a group of men in military uniform.
It’s all so familiar and welcoming now.
With all the time in the mines, you wonder if maybe your pickaxe needs work too. Sliding your backpack off, you examine your trusty tool. Worn, but not weathered, the steel speaks of the craftsmanship and skill of the blacksmith who first forged it for you.
“You waiting for that tool to do something or should I leave you two alone?”
Frankie.
You fight back a smile when his warm deep teasing voice floats in.
Frankie wasn’t this easy going with you at first. He kept his distance, was polite but rather reserved.
“He’s just shy. He was like that when I first moved in too,” Leah, your closest friend here in the valley, reassured you one night at the saloon.
Now those beautiful gem eyes of Francisco Morales blaze straight at you as he walks towards the counter. Wearing his trademark baseball cap you playfully glare at him.
“I’m just checking to see if I need to complain to my blacksmith about my pickaxe needing work.” You quip back to him.
“Oh well shit, thank god that isn’t me.” Frankie smirks and you snort at his comment.
Frankie reminds you of the flames and steel he works with. Hard working and gently intense, yet a warmth gleams beneath him and fills an entire room just like the heat from his kilns.
“You just had to come in five minutes before I closed huh?” Frankie sighs dramatically.
You think he’s teasing but guilt still strikes you quick. Rambling out apologies, you scramble to explain how it’s mainly for precaution with the storm coming.
“I can always come back later!” You urge panicking.
He chuckles, cozily deep, and you sputter to a stop.
“I kid little farmer, I kid.”
That nickname he so casually gave to you just this month sparks an electric warmth through your entire body. You weakly laugh back, not able to fully process a reply.
Frankie’s gorgeous features, his striking nose, and his warm eyes disarm you in a way that makes your knees want to fold.
He moves around the tables and workbenches to pull out your ax.
“There it is!” You happily cheer.
Frankie even playfully shows off the sleek new tool like he’s a hostess in a daytime game show and you clap appreciatively while you laugh. It surprises you how silly sometimes Frankie can be.
Moving back to the counter he places your ax onto it. Then he leans towards you and begins explaining what upgrades he did.
You should be listening, but you can’t. Not with him leaning so close to you.
You’ve had an embarrassing crush on Frankie since the first moment Mayor Lewis introduced you to him. But with how busy you’ve been settling into the valley, along with how shy and reserved Frankie is, your feelings simply have stayed crystallizing inside you.
Frankie’s diligent eyes are so focused on his work and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. How dedicated he is to his craft, how quietly passionate he is, you yearn to fall into him more.
Suddenly Frankie’s eyes flicker up and catch you staring at him. In a panic your gaze snaps down to your tool.
“Yup! Looks like it can still cut a tree! Good job, Morales.” You lamely reply and Frankie snorts.
You do sincerely thank him and even offer to get him coffee for making him stay this late.
Frankie waves you off casually. “Maybe next time, besides you gotta get home before the storm hits.”
He’s right. There's still so much you need to do before the night comes. The clatter of Frankie slowly shutting everything down for the night draws you out of your thoughts.
“Do you need any help?” You offer.
“Nah, I’m good. Plus I don’t need your pretty hands getting burned.” Frankie replies back.
Although he’s not looking at you, his sly compliment sends a spark through your body.
Scrambling to put your ax in its guard and then shoving it into your backpack, you thank Frankie again and plan to quietly leave.
“Wait!” Frankie suddenly calls out and you freeze.
“Wait, don’t head out yet. Let me walk you home.”
The chill from outside settles into the shop now that the fires are extinguished. Yet, Frankie’s words ignite a dizzying heat.
“Oh no it’s okay!” You quickly stammer out as a nervous energy spikes in you.
You know he lives besides the forge. It wouldn’t make sense for him to walk you home then have to head the way back here.
The lights from the back area turn off and Frankie already walks out towards you with his coat on.
Your eyes go wide.
“Come on.” He gently nudges you with his kind eyes and your body moves on autopilot.
Once outside the cold galvanizes you. The sky above stretches out a misty blue while the edges of evening’s midnight coloring slowly creeps in.
The entire walk back to your farm Frankie stays in step with you. The conversation is light, easy, simple talk of how his and your day went. Your heart hammers in your chest. Yet, it’s comforting to have someone beside you. He’s warm and stays close.
Now your farm stretches before you a soft welcome home. Frankie, like the gentleman he is, walks you to the door.
Appreciative, you warmly thank him and wish him a safe trip back home.
“Thanks and stay warm, little farmer.” He grins softly, kind.
After a sweet wave goodbye to him, you walk off the porch to do all the final errands before you call it a night.
“Wait, what’re you doing?” Frankie suddenly calls out and curiosity colors his voice.
You glance back and see he hasn’t moved an inch.
With an eased sleepy smile you tell him you have a few last minute things you need to do. Like check on your winter seeds, double check the coop and then make sure the pipes are covered.
“You need help?” He warmly asks concerned and sincere.
“Oh no, I’m good I promise!” You reply. If you were braver you’d joke about not wanting to hurt his pretty hands.
“Besides, you need to get home.” You firmly tell him.
It’s getting darker, not completely night out, but you feel guilty for Frankie walking out here.
So with one final sigh you give him a warm goodbye.
“Stay warm tonight, Morales.”
Frankie quietly grins back and you hope he makes it home safe. Now your focus turns to the small field and you kneel before it.
Your winter seeds aren’t ready just yet. A dread fills you wondering if they will last against the storm.
“What are you growing?”
Frankie.
You didn’t even hear his footsteps in the snow. Whipping your head up you watch Frankie lean down to squat beside you.
“You should be walking home!” You cry out surprised.
Frankie shrugs sleepily. “It’s still early, I’ll be fine.”
You make an indignant squeak that makes him chuckle. Frankie’s eyes return to the little saplings still making their way through the snow, stubbornly growing against the harsh winter.
“They’re just winter seeds.” You sigh explaining how you’ve been growing them mainly for the experience and money.
“You think they’re gonna make it?” He asks gently.
You hope so.
You’re about to get up when Frankie quickly stands above with his hand outstretched to you. Even though your hands are gloved and so are his, a flutter runs through your chest when you place your hand in his. Frankie lifts you up effortlessly and you thank him, trying to steady yourself.
“Alright, what’s next?” Frankie asks light.
“For you to go home, Morales!” You laugh.
“Well you’re walking towards the barn so…kinda doesn’t seem like you’re finished yet.” Frankie comments almost shyly as he stays walking beside you.
“I’m not, but I don’t need your help. Go home!” You urge with a weak laugh. Frankie simply shrugs.
Sliding open the coop door, warmth begs you to come inside. You’re thankful for investing in those barn heaters.
“Your chickens are so big.” Frankie admires quietly in awe at the sleeping birds.
You smile while double checking the coop. Everything seems secure and safe for whatever might come this way tonight.
Stepping back outside the cold air seems still, quiet.
“You need to head home.” You tell him sternly, more worried than ever about his walk back to town.
“What’s next?” He asks with steeled resolve in his voice with no sign of leaving.
“Go home Francisco.” You firmly urge saying his full name.
But then you catch the sight of your pipes and sigh. So you almost did forget to wrap them.
“You didn't wrap your pipes?” He sounds a bit worried.
“I thought I did earlier…” Now you’re extra grateful for double checking.
When the first snow came at the start of winter, everyone reassured you the pipes would be fine. It was during harder snow storms, blizzards, that you needed to be careful. And now one approaches fast.
Frankie follows you inside the house to grab the necessary materials.
You can’t even process him being in your home for the first time. Simply on a mission you and him work together swiftly grabbing duck tape, a ratty old towel and head to the pipes.
It’s a swift team effort. In minutes, the pipes are securely wrapped safely and snug. You and him even share a triumphant high five.
“I wish I could invite you in for a thank you hot chocolate but you need to head home now.” You press.
Frankie, with his hands in his coat pockets, shrugs easily.
“I can stay for some thank you hot coco.” He offers.
“You gotta get home before the storm hits!” You shriek.
He waves you off casually. “It’s not coming till later tonight I’ll be fine. Now come on, don’t you wanna impress me with your hot chocolate skills?”
The smirk he gives you is so boyishly charming, almost like he’s daring you to invite him in.
This side of him is rare. You’ve only seen him get this smug and cocky at the saloon during a game of darts. Now your heart flutters fast in your chest.
“Come on,” He pouts. “Think of this as a way to help keep me warm on the walk back.”
He makes a point. The panic of wanting him to make it home safe before the storm, becomes smaller against the thought of spending more time with this man.
To have this man in your home.
So with a sigh of defeat you crack. Nudging your chin towards the door, you let Frankie in.
He’s in your home now. You need to stay composed.
You do have budding feelings for him, something that’s evolved out of the simple crush you had. And having him here in your home feels like dipping your toe into the deep end of a pool before jumping in. But you shake those thoughts away.
“Your place is nice.” Frankie admires and you thank him.
It’s still small, cozy now that you’re slowly allowing yourself to fully settle into the old bones of your grandpa’s home.
You want to say more until Frankie’s stomach suddenly growls.
Looking at him with surprised eyes, he stares back with beautiful eyes the size of the full moons.
“Shit.”
You laugh at his panicked response.
“You okay with maybe staying and having a quick dinner or should I really kick you out so you can head home?” You leave the option up to him, place the ball in his court.
Frankie with the most bashful smile slides off his coat.
“Dinner sounds great, little farmer.”
Your heart floats up and gets tangled in your throat, but it’s incredible.
You have the leftover lasagna Evelyn gave you as a thank you. But you also think of the soup recipe you've been dying to make for this weather.
So you leave it up to your guest for the night.
“Soup or leftover lasagna?” You offer light.
Frankie’s eyebrows scrunched together adorable, thinking hard at the two options, and you keep back a giggle.
“Will the soup take you a while to make?” He sounds sweetly concerned.
You swear it will take less than twenty minutes.
“Soup it is.” Frankie grins and it touches his eyes.
You begin grabbing the various ingredients and hate how hyper aware you feel even in your own house.
“So what can I help with?” Frankie now slides beside you and you almost squeak in surprise.
For someone who makes so much noise when he works, you find he’s rather quiet, swift.
“You’re my guest, so don’t worry. Plus you’ve helped enough!” You shoo him away and don’t miss the way he playfully glares at you.
Conversation again unfolds effortlessly with him. Frankie talks about how Mayor Lewis was in the shop earlier bragging about you hitting a full year in the valley.
“And here I thought everyone had stopped gossiping about me.” You snort lightly and start grabbing the bowls.
It will be a full year since you moved to your grandpa’s family farm. However, you wonder when the newness of you living here will subside.
“There’s… still some gossip of course. Small town after all.” Frankie admits shyly, like a school boy admitting a secret.
“But don’t worry, I don’t let any of ‘em talk bad about you in my shop.” Frankie, endearingly sweet, adds. His words knock you breathless and you almost drop the bowls.
“I knew I could count on you, Morales.” You manage to say with a grin.
Thankfully quick, the soup turns out comforting and delicious. Frankie even gushes about how incredible it is and your ego inflates wild.
“Thanks so much for dinner.” Frankie beams with the brightness of a sun.
“Please, I’m the one who’s thankful for all your help.” You earnestly tell him.
“Plus, it’s nice to have good company for dinner.” You add.
“I understand,” Frankie nods. “Gets a bit quiet around my place too. S’nice to change it up.”
A dual sided emotion settles in you. You ache understanding but also yearn to uncover more about this beautiful and sturdy man.
Before you can dive more into this discussion, Frankie’s phone rings wild and loud. Hastily scrambling to grab it, once he discovers who’s calling his face drops for a flicker of a moment.
“Sorry little farmer, but gotta excuse myself real quick is that alright?” His voice wavers.
Of course you earnestly reassure him and even direct him to the bathroom so he can talk in private. Frankie thanks you graciously then rushes out.
The house is quiet and he didn’t fully close the bathroom door fully. So his conversation leaks out enough for you to catch it.
“Wait, so you wannna just spring this on me now?” His voice slices out sharp. You’ve never heard Frankie sound this upset.
“Yes of course I’m gonna take her. But do you know how fucking shitty this is, Diana? Did you even think about my schedule before you fucking planned this trip?” He snaps.
You’ve also never heard him curse and it snaps your snipe straight. He sighs incredibly frustrated and angered, allowing whoever is on the phone to talk.
“Oh yeah, yeah, real fucking nice. Always make me the bad guy, right?”
Then Frankie starts speaking fast and low in Spanish you can’t catch what he’s saying. His tone however feels barbed and venomous.
So many questions bubble up. You believe you heard the name ‘Diana’ but this could be a conversation about anything.
Now thinking about it, even though you’ve been here almost a full year… you don’t know much about Frankie personally and that truth sinks your heart.
Silence now settles into your home until Frankie’s footsteps echo returning down the hall.
“I’m so sorry.” Frankie’s voice jolts the air but with a deep sadness. “I think I’m gonna have to save that cup of hot chocolate for another day.”
You kind of figured. Besides, you didn’t want him to get caught in the storm.
Outside the air has chilled, but thankfully the snow hasn’t begun.
“Had a great time tonight, thanks again for having me for.” An earnest grace radiates from his words.
You’re the one who’s truly thankful for him and you repeatedly tell him that.
Unfortunately a dread hits you. You want to make sure he makes it home. Your worry must be evident on your face because Frankie’s eyes cloud with caution.
“Wait, what’s wrong?”
When you tell him, a beautiful relief melts on Frankie’s face that you almost wish you could capture.
“Oh come on, that’s easy to fix, little farmer.”
He pulls out his phone and hands it to you.
He’s asking for your number.
Your heart beats so rapidly in your ears when you type your digits in.
“I’ll message you when I get home. Promise.” His warm voice is gilded with truth.
“Stay safe okay Frankie?” You tell him and his gorgeous eyes soften.
“Yeah, will do. And you stay safe too okay, little farmer? Stay warm and if you need anything.”
He holds his phone up and playfully wiggles it, a signal to say you should call him. You smile unbearably big and stay on the porch watching him leave until he vanishes from your sight.
You keep busy so you’re not simply staring at your phone waiting for his message. You clean up the remnants of dinner and feel comforted seeing two bowls in your sink.
Then your phone chimes and you scramble.
An message from an unknown number:
[Made it home safe!]
Another message flickers in.
[Also this is Frankie btw :)]
[Hi! 🪓]
The little ax emoji he adds makes you giggle giddy over how adorable this man can be.
You add his name and contact info into your phone. It warms you better than any sip of hot chocolate could.
- ❆ -
“Why do we even gotta celebrate ice?” One of the kids, you think Vincent, shouts that as you reach the edge of the forest and you snicker.
When you heard about the festival of ice, it simply sounded like a way for the town to break up the winter days. But it also reminded you how earnest and endearing the town can be.
Your heart jumps fast spotting Frankie bundled in his cozy jacket. He stands close to Willy and the two of them talk low, completely engaged with each other.
Whatever they’re discussing seems serious, evident in Frankie’s hard frown and Willy’s unusual somber expression. You decide not to interrupt them.
The fishing game is the highlight of the festival and to no shock the town’s head fisherman wins.
“It’s rigged.” You tease Willy and his hearty laugh is contagious.
“Don’t worry, next year you’ll be puttin’ me to shame.” Willy proudly declares.
When the event concludes for the day, Frankie already walks off without saying a word to you.
You try not to think about it too much.
When you’re about to head to bed, you find a message alert on your phone.
Frankie:
[Good try with the fishing tournament today! Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today… have a lot of stuff going on. Also Willy wins every year. Think Lewis even adds fish into his crate to make sure it happens lol you’re the real winner in my book ]
You laugh as warmth balloons rapidly in your chest.
This message feels like a true victory for the day and it carries you for the rest of the week. Especially with how hard and brisk this final season of the year is.
Everyone warned you winter would be tough, and with your greenhouse still unfixed you’re realizing how true the warning is.
The days drag and bleed together. You throw yourself into the mines trying to gather more resources but that drains you fast. So you start doing a few errands around town to break up the days.
When Frankie requests a certain amount of wood you scramble quickly to complete the errand.
Inside the blacksmith shop, the familiar warmth greets you. However when Frankie walks out, a weariness looms over him. Heavy bangs hang around his eyes even as he smiles thin.
“Hey.” His voice is weary.
“Hey.” You reply back hesitantly. “I uh…have the wood you asked for.”
“Oh shit really?” He perks up. “Thanks, little farmer.”
You beam proud knowing you managed to at least brighten his day a little.
“Wait here, let me get your payment.”
You almost want to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but Frankie scrambles for his wallet.
“So, how ya been?” He asks.
“Good.” You partially lie. “How have you been?”
“Good.” He answers quickly, however you sense a lie buried.
You weakly smile. Exhausted, Frankie barely grins back and a pang pierces through you.
“Hey… Frankie.” You begin weakly. Frankie, midway pulling out your payment, freezes and blinks towards you.
“Yeah, little farmer what’s up?”
You know this might not mean much but you want to at least tell him.
“I just…” the words get stuck in your throat but with a deep inhale you unclog them.
“You just seem tired. I appreciate how hard you work but I just hope you get some rest when you can.” You tell him earnestly. “And… if there’s anything bothering you, I just wanted you to know you can always talk to me.”
You finish and hope you didn’t overstep.
Frankie’s gemstone eyes flicker stunned and then he sighs.
For the first time, Frankie slips his very notable baseball cap off and runs a hand over his hair.
His soft hat hair, the way you get this new glimpse of Frankie, lights something within your chest. You’ve never seen him without his cap. When he slips the baseball hat back on, his eyes seem cloudy and downcast.
“Thanks little farmer, appreciate it.” He mutters with another sigh. “It’s just stupid shit with my ex wife that’s taking longer than I expected to work out.”
Frankie’s words catapult you straight out of the atmosphere and your blood runs cold.
Ex wife.
Frankie was married before.
“I shouldn’t let it bother me and I don’t wanna be that type of ex husband, but holy shit she can be so damn difficult.” He shakes his head.
This feels like you’re meeting him again for the first time. But you’re grateful he’s sharing this with you.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this and with her being difficult.” You reply with a soft comfort.
“You’re a good guy Frankie. I hope she doesn’t make you forget that.” You add, meaning those words.
You and him might have just recently become closer, but this entire year you’ve been living in Pelican Town Frankie’s been so sincerely kind. Always being patient with you and how awful you sometimes are to your poor tools. Even just seeing his soft shy smile when you run into him has brightened your day many times.
Frankie’s eyes finally flicker to you. They search your face like he’s waiting for you to react.
His mouth opens slightly.
Then he says your name, breathes it out, and it kickstarts a wild flutter in your heart.
But the door suddenly yanks open wildly behind you, cutting him off rapidly.
Robin, the town’s ever handy carpenter, arrives with a warm welcome drawing all the attention to her. The moment flutters away with her entrance. With a fast goodbye to Frankie and a swift warm greeting to Robin, you scramble fast to leave.
“Wait I didn’t-”
You don’t even wait to hear what Frankie has to say before you’re out of the door and back into the cold winter air. With so many thoughts buzzing in your head like angry hornets you simply head to the mines.
You stay there until the dead of night and drag your body back to farm. Even with how tired you are, your mind still thinks of a certain blacksmith.
The next morning there are two letters waiting for you. One is from Lewis reminding you of the upcoming Winter Star festival. The other is from Frankie.
Your heart jumps fast.
Little farmer,
Thanks for thinking of me and wanting to look out for me. Appreciate it a lot. Also you forgot your payment yesterday, silly! Don’t work yourself too hard either. So you get some rest too, alright?
Hope you swing by again and maybe soon we’ll have time for that hot chocolate :)
He not only sent you the payment for the errand but also a sweet pack of maple bars.
An overwhelming sweetness consumes you and you wish it never leaves.
The next day you plan to make Frankie a hot chocolate to bring him in the morning. But you realize you used the last remaining bits a few nights ago when you snuggled in for a cozy reading night. You mentally kick yourself but decide a green tea will hopefully be the best second option.
The minute Frankie’s shop opens you’re there the first one inside.
“You’re here early.” Frankie greets you with crinkled smiling eyes.
“Thought I’d stop by before I head to the mines.” You reply back brightly.
“It’s not hot cocoa, but I hope it’s a nice treat.” You offer lightly while you hand him the cozy to go drink.
“You got this for me? Thanks so much.” Your heart flutters hearing how warm his voice gets.
He takes a sip and his eye brows shoot up under the cover of his hat. Oh no. Does he not like it?
“Is this green tea?” His voice jumps so excited. “I love green tea!”
His brilliant smile creates a sun bursting light in your chest and you’re a bit grateful now you ran out of hot chocolate.
- ❆ -
Gus is a full five minutes into his handmade candy cane discussion and while you adore the endearing saloon owner, you can only take so much.
The feast of the evening star still warms and eases you though. The twinkling decorations, the absolute grand festive tree, the delicious food - it’s all a cozy blanket to soak into.
So you allow dear Gus to ramble about his candy canes while you sip on your warm drink.
“So who’s your secret gift recipient?”
Frankie’s soft but playful voice catches you off guard and you almost sputter out your drink.
You caught sight of him earlier but he was busy laughing with Pierre and Caroline. Then you got caught up in greeting everyone. Now you’re thankful to finally talk to him.
“You know that’s a secret.” You playfully glare at him.
The blacksmith simply shrugs but the amusement tugging his lips makes you smile.
A beautiful flush crawls over Frankie’s face. A kaleidoscopic joy sparkles in his deep eyes. He seems better and joy fills you.
“So does that mean you’re not gonna tell me what your winter star wish is?” He asks light.
You roll your eyes, but giddiness consumes you fast.
“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” You surprisingly coyly reply.
Frankie snorts and his face crinkles up adorable.
“If I told ya, you probably wouldn’t even believe me.” He says casually then takes a sip of his drink.
“Wait,” you reply back. “Now you gotta tell me.”
Frankie doesn’t reply for a moment.
In the stillness of this moment, you notice how close he is. He’s leaning right beside you that you can smell the faint smoke of his work, and a crisp cologne you’ve never noticed before.
Then, you see it. His stunning amber gemstone eyes flicker to your lips.
It’s fast, happens in a breath of a moment. Your throat dries. You blame the warm food and festive atmosphere, but you ache to lean closer.
Before you can react or even wait for Frankie’s next move, Mayor Lewis claps loudly, breaking the spell.
“Time to exchange gifts everybody!” He declares.
Your body feels electric and immediately you try settling yourself down. You needed to give your gift.
Jodi, the sweet mother she is, deserves a nice sweet treat and you surprise her with a fully cooked chocolate cake. Her warm excited reaction is a treat itself.
Evelyn, ever the kind grandmother, gives you a pack of her delicious and warm cookies. You hug her tight thanking her.
The festival concludes with a gentle end and fizzles out softly. The clean up is eased, relaxed, and by the time it’s finished an unfortunately long yawn takes over you.
“Can I walk ya home, little farmer? You seem tired.”
Frankie again, so stealthy, suddenly appears out of thin air.
You squeak out a quick yes and his face melts soft.
“So a full year down huh? Hope we haven’t scared you off too badly.” Frankie offers hopeful.
It has been a year, feels like so much yet so little has been composed into your new life here in Pelican Town. You think of the dilapidated community center you’ve been keeping an eye on and working on.
You’ve taken this new journey slowly, at your own pace. You can almost hear your grandpa’s voice cheering you on saying just take it one step at a time.
“No way.” You laugh answering Frankie’s question. If anything, you’ve grown more attached to the valley than you ever imagined. You even tell Frankie this and his face lights up so beautifully it rivals the festival tree standing in the town plaza.
“Everything work out with your ex?” You ask gently and then sputter out an apology if you’ve overstepped.
Frankie chuckles. “Nah, I’m glad we can talk about it.”
That comforts you.
“And yeah, thankfully everything worked out.” Frankie grins sleepily. “I’m still really sorry you had to hear that.”
“No worries! And like what you just said, I’m glad I can be here for you. That’s what friends are for, remember?” You reassure him.
“Yeah, friends.” The way his voice hangs on the word friends gets tangled in your chest.
A quietness clouds the walk.
“So Gus tell you about homemade candy canes?” Until Frankie’s light voice breaks the silence and you laugh.
It might have been a slow start becoming friends with Frankie. But you’re glad, grateful, to finally arrive here.
Arriving at your farm you thank Frankie again.
“If it wasn’t so late I really would invite you in for that hot chocolate I’ve been promising you.” You sigh. You even begged Gus for a new pack just to be stocked up.
“Don’t worry about it. There will be another night, promise.” His words are gilded in a promise you want to treasure.
He suddenly says your name and now under the light of your porch, Frankie seems bashful as his eyes flicker around.
“I, uh, kind of have something for you.”
That takes you by surprise.
“Couldn’t give it to you earlier cause I know Mayor Lewis would’ve had my ass.” Frankie dryly snorts and then pulls out something concealed in the classic brown paper wrapping he uses at his shop.
“Happy feast of the winter star, little farmer.” He delicately hands it to you and your eyes feel as if they’re going to pop out any moment.
You cry in protest that he didn’t need to get you anything and guilt rushes in. You didn’t get him anything.
“Eh,” he shrugs. “No pasa nada.”
You’ve only caught small bits of him speaking Spanish before and now hearing him speak so casual sounds beautiful.
Unwrapping the surprise gift, you discover he got you an iridium bar and you inhale sharply.
You haven’t even been able to forge one yet. The most precious, coveted, type of metal bar and he just casually gave one to you right now.
“Francisco Morales, this is too much!” You shriek.
He laughs buoyantly and loud at your reaction.
“Trust me, it’s not. Besides, seen how hard you work. How much you do for me and the town. You deserve it.”
You don’t want to get emotional, but the tears clogging your throat say otherwise. Those tears and the bubbling emotions, gratitude and all other shades of thankfulness, overtake you. Before you can stop yourself you rush to Frankie and collide into him.
You hug him best as you can but realize what you’ve just done. You don’t even know if he’s okay with close contact like this.
Immediately Frankie wraps you in his arms and squeezes you back. He’s all encompassing, beautifully so.
Your mind, your thoughts, everything melt as you embrace him back.
“Thank you.” You earnestly tell him.
“Anytime.” Frankie whispers back.
You would never tell Frankie this… but your winter star wish came true because you couldn’t have wished for a better way to bid such a sweet farewell to this season here in the valley.
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catghoulz · 18 hours ago
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i kinda wish the dark souls timeline went ds1 -> ds3 main game -> ds2 -> ds3 kiln of the first flame & ringed city era. it Definitely Doeznt but i think it could with pretty minimal ds3 rewritez & would make it hewing far closer to ds1 than ds2 did feel more natural to me
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cerastes · 5 months ago
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Explaining to Kal’tsit what intimacy with Arturia feels like starting with an image of the Kiln of the First Flame while bitcrunched clown music plays.
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idontknowreallywhy · 3 months ago
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An Eyebrow-Razing Incident?
Part 3
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Part 1 here
Part 2 here
Virgil may have gone to the dark side…
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Admittedly leaving the broken apart kiln open to the elements while he ran back to the villa to announce that The Barbecue would be today, at lunchtime and then not returning to it until after his flight to the mainland for urgent meat supplies was… a tactical error.
One of their frequent three-minute tropical rainstorms had dumped its load on the island in his absence. Perhaps he’d have made it back in time if he hadn’t made a detour to pick up a vat of heavy duty antihistamine cream for his itchy, well, Everything.
As it was, the beautiful black gold was more than a little dampened by the experience and for several minutes, so was its creator.
To add further insult, the devilish little creature, or creatures had even snacked on the skin beneath his eyebrows and ever since desperately rubbing the cream into those the hairs just weren’t lying flat as they should. And that made him itch almost as much as the bites did.
After precisely applying the Jeff Tracy fix to the errant pile of fuel and getting black dust all over his TBTwo-green bootlaces, Virgil got a grip of himself.
Even damp fuel could be persuaded into flame with enough accelerant. The show would go on and nobody need know.
He loaded up a sack of coal and hefted it to his shoulder like a particularly miserly Santa.
It had to be a food grade accelerant, though. Rocket fuel had a certain… tang…to it that even that spray on taste-bud torturer wouldn’t conceal. Grandma would be on to him quick as a flash.
No. He had to be cunning about this. What would Grandpa have done?
Ethanol was flammable…
At high enough concentration anyway, about 80% should do it. Pity none of them were habitual vodka drinkers. Well, maybe only for current purposes.
The craft beer wasn’t strong enough. And Virgil had plans for that which didn’t involve throwing it on a fire.
Gordon’s tropical-flavoured rum collection was more sugar and water than alcohol. Similar story re Alan’s alcopops.
Scott… Scott had whisky. Cask strength. Expensive.
Very expensive.
But also very flammable…
He deposited the sack next to the newly constructed, gas-free, poolside barbecue.
It was a terrible idea. Big brother would kill him if he found out.
But Grandma’s disappointed face would kill him more slowly and painfully.
His heart told him she would forgive him in time and that he should just come clean.
His itchy eyebrows said BURN IT ALL.
He scratched at them again. Three perfect dark hairs came off on his fingertips.
Horrified, he applied more cream then stashed the tub back in his pocket before strolling casually into the house, grabbed a large bottle of cola from the kitchen and sauntered past the rest of his beloved family who were huddled together in the lounge bickering over a notebook of some kind.
So focussed was Virgil on appearing natural he didn’t realise until after he was halfway up the stairs that Gordon had slammed the notebook closed as he’d entered, and had had a look of intense innocence on his face.
And Scott… his bestest big bro Scooter, who had been a fraction slower to achieve the nothing-to-see-here expression, had been clutching a fistful of hundred dollar bills.
Those only ever made an appearance for two reasons:
Either Virgil was missing an 11am poker session, or Gordon was taking bets on whether he was going to pull this off.
And Scott was betting against him.
Virgil wasn’t offended in the slightest. But his eyebrows screamed for vengeance.
Virgil waited for the bickering to recommence before quietly doubling back and sneaking his way into his way into Dad’s office. That was where Scott hid the really good stuff.
Sure enough, in a small cabinet in the corner were four beautifully sculpted glass bottles. Only the smallest amount missing from the first, it didn’t come out often, and so it wasn’t safe to take that one. Instead he eased the bottle from the very back and studied it. It whispered to him in numbers with too many zeros.
Pffft, Mr Billionaire of the Year could afford another when he eventually noticed.
But if Virgil walked past with the ornate bottle he’d notice rather too soon.
He had a plan for that though.
Unfortunately there was no sink in here so Virgil downed one and a half litres of sickly sweet caffeine before inflicting the last quarter on a slightly dry-looking pot plant.
Bleugh.
The speed and steadiness with which he decanted the whisky would have earned him a surgical scholarship on the spot.
The glass bottle was returned to the cabinet. The cola bottle was stripped of its paper label and a new one proclaiming “Bessie’s Artisinal All-Natural BBQ lighter fluid” in a somewhat hurried calligraphic script was stuck in its place.
The Perfect Crime.
Next Step: The Perfect Barbecue.
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