#never acted like a stereotypical bard a day in their life! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 3/6 (1, 2 - 4)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

CW specific for this chapter: voyeurism, exhibitionism, Dandelion/female OC, sex work. (Can you guess what happens?)

Summary: There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.

The arrangement, as Dandelion had begun to think of it, was working well. With his ballads gaining popularity over the continent, his coin purse was beginning to fill out. Not that it stopped them from sharing rooms at inns, but occasionally he or Geralt would actually manage to visit a brothel to sate their needs. Masturbation was wonderful but even that was a short term solution. Occasionally one just needed to good tumble in the sheets, and Dandelion always made sure he paid for the night. He enjoyed the afterglow of sex just as much as the act itself, and even though he was paying them, he enjoyed waking up in his lover’s arms, but mostly the pair of them got each other off in the mornings or just before bed, whenever the need arose, and if they had the coin they’d visit a brothel. It worked for them.

The life of a witcher and that of a travelling bard did share one thing in common.

It wasn’t easy to settle down.

And honestly, neither of them wanted to. Geralt kept bemoaning that witcher’s were not meant for love and family, whereas Dandelion’s wanderlust seemed to bleed through into matters of the heart. How anyone could be happy with just one lover, he would never understand. There were so many beautiful people out there just waiting to be adored, it would be a bloody shame to deny them the opportunity.

Dandelion tried not to think about how he always returned to Geralt, be it in the mornings or evenings. He tried not to think of how, despite his wishes for freedom, he had essentially tethered himself to the witcher.

He tried not to think of how easy it would be to fall in love with him.

It was easier not to think about it.

“Geralt?” he called to the witcher.

Geralt looked across from where he was riding Roach. Dandelion’s own gelding was shorter than the mare, a chestnut horse that had nothing on Roach but it was better than walking everywhere. Geralt had been good at not riding too fast, but Dandelion’s feet were constantly sore and blistered by the end of the day. At least this way he could switch between riding and walking.

Gods, by the end of the year his thighs would be like tree trunks. He’d never exercised so much in his life before. The life of a viscount in training had been cushy, and his life as a student hadn’t been much harder. It was all desks and fancy chairs, the occasional lecture room with firm wooden benches.

In fact, the most exercise he’d had before had probably been in the bedroom.

Oh, how things had changed.

“We should visit a brothel in the next town, my friend,” Dandelion suggested.

To his surprise, Geralt shook his head. Dandelion pouted, ready to launch into a sonnet about the carnal delights that could be found waiting for them in the bed of a whore… or even two, but Geralt cut him off. “I need to stock up on potion ingredients, and the last contract didn’t pay well thanks to a certain bard.”

Dandelion flushed, averting his gaze. It hadn’t been his fault. He didn’t know that the gorgeous lady he’d been flirting with had been the Alderman’s wife. Was he supposed to be psychic? Not everyone had Geralt’s keen witcher’s senses, he hadn’t exactly been able to smell the mingling of their scents, as Geralt had described it. Dandelion was half convinced the witcher was making that up. There was no way he’d been able to smell that.

Although….

Geralt had mentioned he could smell when someone had orgasmed.

“I’ll have you know, that I am not to blame, dear witcher! If she was happily taken then she should have refused my advances. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that she was married? She kept looking at me with those eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, and cheeks like roses. She was practically begging me to take her to bed.”

Geralt snorted. “You can go to a brothel, I won’t stop you, my friend, but I don’t have the coin. I’ll stay in the woods outside of town and you can meet me at dawn. Don’t be late.”

Dandelion rolled his eyes and sniffed haughtily as he adjusted his hat with one hand. “Nonsense! We’ll just have to share.”

“Share?”

“A whore, obviously Geralt, do try to keep up.”

Geralt pulled Roach to a halt and Dandelion had to circle round as he trotted ahead. He peered at the witcher, quirking his eyebrow. “What?”

“You want to share a whore?”

Dandelion sighed dramatically, holding the reins in one hand as he flicked out a wrist in a flourish. “It’s cheaper and that way neither of us will need to camp out. It’s a practical and pleasurable solution. Come on, Geralt, when was the last time you had the soft flesh of a woman’s thighs around your waist, the feel of her breasts in your hands.”

“Shut up, Dandelion,” Geralt growled and spurred Roach onwards.

Dandelion chimed a laugh, and followed after his witcher. “So is that a yes? Geralt! Geralt come back!”

____________

It was a yes, even though Geralt never said the word. He never enjoyed the way Dandelion waxed poetry about women, as if they were a rose to be viewed purely for their beauty. He never admired the male figure in quite the same way. Whilst the poet wasn’t ashamed of his love of men, he only openly spoke of women as his lovers, occasionally omitting the gender altogether if he deemed it necessary.

Geralt had never really understood the need to hide. He didn’t exactly advertise his attraction to men, it was easier, not to mention cheaper, to hire a female whore after all, but he didn’t make the same effort that Dandelion did to hide it. Although, the bard in all his flamboyant gestures and colourful silk clothes did portray the more stereotypical dandy type.

And arseholes were less likely to actually try and attack a witcher, unless they were drunk or downright idiotic. Some thought that besting a witcher would impress whatever girl they had their eyes on, but Geralt was fairly good at discreetly using Axii to convince them that it wasn’t worth the fight.

Although, he had to admit, he did enjoy a good brawl, and the fighting rings were a good source of extra income when they were running low.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. Perhaps he should have sought out the local fighting ring instead of going along with Dandelion’s ridiculous plan of sharing a whore, but there was no denying that he could use a good fuck. He was half-tempted to push the poet up against the nearest tree and fuck the living daylights out of him, but they didn’t do that. Quick hand jobs in the forest were a far cry from getting fucked against a tree.

But Dandelion was growing ever more tempting with every day that passed. Geralt knew the way the poet’s breathing hitched in his throat just before he came. He knew the way he would bite his lips in a fruitless effort to keep quiet, the obscene sounds of his moans that rang out in the night. Geralt knew how those cornflower blue eyes looked when he was hungry with lust, the scent of his arousal permeating the air until it was all that Geralt could smell. He knew how the bard’s cock felt in his hands, as Dandelion cried out, Geralt’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

But he didn’t know how his lips tasted. He didn’t know whether Dandelion’s swan-like neck was as sensitive as he imagined. He could only guess at how beautiful it would look with an array of bruises and bite-marks left behind by Geralt’s mouth. He didn’t know how Dandelion’s cock would feel in his mouth, a taste of his cum.

And he wanted to know.

Fuck, he wanted to know everything.

If he hadn’t been taught from such a young age that witchers didn’t feel, he might have begun to think that he was falling in love with the poet.

But that was off the cards. It was just sex, hell, it wasn’t even that. They were friends, companions on the road.

And it was cheaper to share a whore.

“Greetings!” Dandelion trilled, giving the madame his most charming smile. The poet winked as he slid some coin across the bar. “We’d like to share, if that’s acceptable?”

The madame glanced between Geralt and his poet, looking decidedly unimpressed. He supposed they made a strange sight. The two of them couldn’t be more different in looks. Geralt with his dull black armour, two swords, and harsh demeanour, versus the colourful bard with hair the colour of golden corn, shiny burgundy silk clothes, and a lute strapped to his back.

They were the moon and the sun.

But, as the saying went, opposites attract.

And fuck, Geralt was attracted to the bard, too attracted. Dandelion would only get hurt by his side but Geralt was too weak to let him go, not whilst he wanted to stay, and Geralt hoped he would stay for a long time yet. The path had been so cold before Dandelion. He steadfastly ignored Vesemir’s warnings about getting attached to humans. A witcher’s lifespan far exceeded that of a human, if they survived the monsters of course.

It was better to settle for whores and one night stands. Geralt had never had a problem before, but being the Butcher of Blaviken was enough to put most humans off. No one had even attempted to befriend him since Renfri.

His friends were dwarves, druids and sorceresses. Although, that last one was still to be determined. The graduates of Aretuza were as prickly as they were powerful, manipulating the world and its people more skilfully than any politician, spy or monarch.

“You want to share with the witcher?” the madame asked, doubt ringing clear in her voice.

“I want to share with my friend, but we’d be happy to take our business elsewhere. A town like this must have more than one brothel,” Dandelion snapped, putting both hands on his hips, his charming air vanishing in an instant.

“No need, I have just the girl for you.”

Dandelion’s shiny smile was back, brighter than before, blinding Geralt and making his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Excellent!” the poet cheered with a clap of his hands, “Show us the way!”

Dandelion’s hair shone in the candlelight, bouncing as he quickly turned around to wink at Geralt. There was a sparkle in his eyes that seemed to light up the entire room. The poet’s tongue flicked out between his lips, and, not for the first time, Geralt wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“Isn’t this a lovely establishment, my dear friend?” Dandelion wittered on, and Geralt ignored the weird stab of pain in his heart at the word friend. They were friends, just friends.

Friends.

Maybe if he repeated it enough then he would begin to believe it.

“It’s a brothel,” he said, his voice sounding dull compared to the warm tenor of his friend.

“Yes, yes, and it’s a rather lovely brothel. If you ignore the smell of sweat. Oh, but that must be even worse for you!” Dandelion exclaimed, looking horrified. Geralt shrugged. It did stink, but he was used to focussing on the nicer smells in places like this. They tended to burn incense, and here was no exception. The floral scent of freesia masked the worst of the sweat and sex, but Geralt focused on the pretty poet next to him. Dandelion still preferred the scented lavender oil in his hair. Before Dandelion, for Geralt’s life now existed as before and after Dandelion, lavender had not been a scent that he enjoyed. It was too strong, and reminded him of the sleeping drafts they used at Kaer Morhen before the mutagens…

But now it was the scent of Dandelion.

Mixed with chamomile and the poet’s natural musk, Geralt had grown rather fond of lavender.

Instead of saying all of this, he just muttered “I manage.”

Dandelion just wrinkled his nose, seemingly disgusted with the whole idea. Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile. It warmed his heart to know how much his friend cared about him, about the whole world in which they lived. Dandelion loved the world and in turn the world loved him back.

It was how it should be.

They were led through to one of the rooms on the second floor. It was cramped but nicely decorated. A pretty young blonde was lying on the bed, her fingers in the middle of braiding her long hair. She glanced up when she saw them, dark blue eyes looking up through thick black lashes.

And all Geralt could think of was that the colour was wrong.

Too dark.

The colour of a stormy ocean instead of the cornflower blue he’d grown used to.

There were freckles dusting her cheeks, and scattering down her neck below the bodice of her dress. She was slender, like Dandelion, but she lacked the muscles his poet had gained over the year…

Geralt cursed.

Winter was fast approaching and he’d been heading north soon, towards Kaer Morhen… towards home. He wondered where the poet would go for winter, perhaps to Oxenfurt. He always spoke of the city fondly.

“Geralt?” a strong hand on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, the girl was still on the bed, looking more than displeased. He mumbled an apology for his rudeness.

“Can’t say that’s the best welcome I’ve had,” she muttered “I can get another girl if you’d prefer.”

“Nonsense!” Dandelion exclaimed. “He’s just tired, isn’t that right, my dear?”

Geralt nodded.

“See, nothing to worry about!” the poet trilled. “Now, how do you want us?”

“You shared before?”

They both shook their heads.

“I thought so, you can always tell,” she said, swiftly untangling the braid in her hair until it fell loosely down her back. “Are you taking turns or sharing?”

Geralt looked at Dandelion, it had been the poet’s idea and so the decision fell to him. Dandelion hummed, his tongue sticking between his lips as he considered, then he turned back to look at Geralt, tilting his head, one hand on his hip. “What do you think, darling? Would you be happy to watch?”

Geralt swallowed, the thought of watching his bard fuck another person should have bothered him… but instead he found himself growing hard in his trousers. He could already imagine the sinful things that Dandelion would say, the dirty poems and rhymes he would wax as he bedded the beautiful whore in front of them.

The bard was rumoured to be an unparalleled lover, and Geralt wanted to know, wanted to see why.

He nodded, barely looking at the girl, unable to tear his gaze from his friend as the pair of them stripped out of their clothes. Travelling together meant that Geralt had seen Dandelion naked many a time, but never like this. When they touched each other, they never took off more than necessary.

Marie, as the girl told them, pulled Dandelion to the bed, running her hands down his chest as she straddled his hips. Dandelion gazed up at her like she was a gift from the gods. He looked at her like he’d seen the sun for the first time. It made Geralt feel sick. He knew what it felt like to be caught under the poet’s gaze, how it felt to bask under the warmth of his affection.

Geralt should have realised that it wasn’t meant for just him.

“Oh, you are just stunning, darling, radiant as spring,” Dandelion cooed, fingers trailing down Marie’s spine. Geralt saw her shiver. He knew that whore’s often pretended to enjoy the company of their clients but Geralt could smell her genuine arousal mixing with the bard’s. Dandelion’s long fingers danced across her skin as she rolled her hips forward, making the poet sigh happily. Geralt could hear the spike in Dandelion’s pulse, as his breath hitched in his throat. Marie gasped as Dandelion cupped her breast.

Geralt was growing achingly hard in his trousers. He knew his turn was next.. but… he was also a witcher. His stamina was… a lot and if he wanted to cum without exhausting Marie then he really should start.

“Do you want me to ride you, poet?” Marie purred, her hands splayed on Dandelion’s chest.

Geralt hoped his bard would say yes. The way he was lying back on the bed with his hair fanned out behind him was enticing. Geralt could easily imagine Dandelion pinned underneath him as he fucked the bard.

Or maybe even fucked himself on Dandelion’s cock.

He hadn’t bottomed very often, most men assumed the witcher would top and Geralt didn’t really care enough to correct them, but suddenly the idea of Dandelion fucking him became the only thing he could think about. The poet’s long, clever fingers opening him up, brushing against his prostate. He growled, palming himself through his trousers. The sound drew Dandelion’s attention, and the poet fucking winked at him.

“What would you prefer, darling?” Dandelion asked, his voice hoarse, losing its usual smooth musical timbre.

Geralt felt too hot under Dandelion’s burning gaze. It was everything he wanted and yet not enough. “Ride him,” he choked out.

Marie laughed, and then reached between her thighs to coat her fingers before stroking the poet’s cock. Dandelion’s wanton moan echoed in the room, the sound going straight to Geralt’s aching cock. He growled and rushed to unlace his trousers, a hiss escaping his lips as he took himself in hand. Dandelion swore as Marie lowered herself onto him, both whore and poet gasping at the feeling. The scent of their joined arousal was almost too much.

She rode Dandelion with the enthusiasm that only a whore could have, moaning and whining and gasping as she fucked herself. Dandelion’s fingers gripped into the soft muscles of her thighs, thrusting into her, a string of poetic nonsense falling from his lips.

Geralt couldn’t look away.

He fisted his cock in time to their movements, imagining it was him that made Dandelion moan so sinfully.

It had been before, but fuck… this was a whole new level.

The way their bodies moved as one, the sounds of flesh slapping together, sweat glistening on the poet’s skin. Geralt’s eyes caught a bead of sweat trickling down Dandelion’s neck and he was hypnotised. He wanted to lick the droplet from the poet’s skin, taste the salt on his tongue, bite down on the muscles of Dandelion’s neck as he keened, his orgasm shuddering through his body.

Marie must have noticed where Geralt was looking because she leaned forward to kiss Dandelion’s neck. The poet’s breath caught, and he cried out, thrusts losing their rhythm as he came.

“Fuck, Geralt…” he moaned, just as he would when they touched each other in the woods.

Marie gasped wordlessly, fingers gripping into the sheets, but Geralt was too focussed on his bard.

His bard.

His poet.

His Dandelion.

For Dandelion was his, there was no denying it now. It was one thing for the poet to say Geralt’s name when he was the cause of his orgasm, but that had not been the case.

Geralt almost pitied Marie.

She hadn’t deserved it.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion whined as his head hit the pillow. He was breathing heavily, his fingers tracing patterns into Marie’s thighs, and Geralt was reminded of the way that Dandelion’s fingers would dance over the strings of his lute when he played in the taverns.

He closed his eyes, gripping his cock tighter in his hand. His pleasure was still building slowly, as it always did, but his mind was spiralling and he felt unable to relax. His muscles were tense and he gritted his teeth.

“Your turn, witcher,” Marie called from the bed, “unless you’d rather fuck the poet. He won’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“But Geralt,” Dandelion pouted as he turned to face Geralt, cheeks still flush and rosy.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Geralt muttered, doing up his trousers and stalking from the room. “Dawn, Dandelion.”

“Dawn, yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, jealousy was raging through him like poison. He knew that Dandelion had thought of him, and yet suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t Dandelion said something? Geralt had been right there, every damn day for months, and yet the poet, famous for his inability to shut up, never said a fucking word.

It had taken a whore to make the truth spill from his lips.

And Geralt wasn’t even sure whether Dandelion had meant to tell him. What did he expect from Geralt? Was Geralt supposed to forget it, pretend it never happened? Or maybe Dandelion had been expecting Geralt to take up Marie’s offer…

And he’d run away.

“Fuck!” he yelled, startling a nearby cat as it was washing itself. The creature hissed and spat at him, clawing at the air. Geralt paid it no attention and carried on walking towards the stables to fetch Roach. He would make camp in the woods, and hopefully Dandelion would be there in the morning.

Geralt wasn’t sure what he’d do if the poet decided not to show.

#the witcher #gerlion #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #wolfie's witcher writing

25 notes · View notes

justgottafinishthischapter · 5 years

Text

Building Character: Sorting Hat

So recently on my main channel, I started breaking down different kinds of people you’d find in the four houses of Hogwarts when it dawned on me that this could be a useful character building exercise. So, I’m going to lay out all 48 archetypes that I named and show how this can be used to outline a character.

The Sorting Process:

My method for sorting characters is to lay out all of the archetypes I’ve found in the Hogwarts Houses, and then compare to the traits of my characters and use a score sheet to determine the best sorting for a character. I’ve already made a score card here. Luckily, all four have been given the same number of archetypes, and now it’s time to meet the archetypes.

GRYFFINDOR

The Jock

Bold, confident, adventurous, and boasting a strong quidditch team, it’s no surprise that Gryffindor is viewed as the Jock clique of the four houses. The house values of determination and relentlessness makes for quality athletes. The stereotype of the brainless jock also persists, as Gryffindor is the house most likely to be considered less than impressive in the academic sphere. Jocks also tend to form close-knit bonds with others like them, just as lions move in prides, and Gryffindors tend to behave similarly, preferring to stick with large friend circles of their own kind. This archetype could just as easily be dubbed “The Frat Guy”, but Jock is more gender-inclusive.

The Brat

Time to rip the bandage off. Gryffindor is spoiled and pampered. Between the text itself and the author who wrote it, the general opinions of the fanbase, and the clear bias of the school staff, Gryffindor is painted as the best and favorite house. It hogs most of the spotlight, and there’s even a general consensus that the other houses are all inferior to golden favorite Gryffindor. This sense of self-importance, entitlement, and blatant unfair favoritism can give Gryffindors an unpleasant and arrogant ego. This can lead them to breaking rules, bullying, and belittling other houses due to this innate sense of superiority and impunity.

The Coward

Counter-intuitive as it might seem, cowards actually fit in nicely with Gryffindor. After all, bravery is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to rise above it. The story even frames this as the most noble kind of Gryffindor. Those who act in spite of their fears. Many of the major Gryffindor characters could easily have been in other houses, but instead chose to be brave.

The Champion

When Gryffindor is flavored with Hufflepuff, they can become a champion, someone who fights in the place of others. Someone who fights for those who cannot protect themselves. The Champion can also champion against something, such as fighting against inequality, tyranny, or corruption. They can even fight on their own behalf. This is simply an archetype not afraid to raise a fuss, call people out, and issue a challenge.

The Explorer

The Ravenclaw among Gryffindors, the Explorer is constantly seeking out new things. New places, new friends, new experiences. These are the Gryfindors who fear boredom or getting stale. Life is an adventure, and there’s no point living the same day twice. Even a bad experience is a chance to learn, grow, and explore something that they didn’t know before.

The Diva

The Slytherin variety, the Diva is proud, flamboyant, confident, and ostentatious. Whereas the Slytherin Star archetype chases fame because of ambitions, Divas have powerful personalities that command attention and recognition. Stars perform to rise to power and glory. Divas perform because it makes them happy to pursuit their passions. Even someone who doesn’t perform can still be a diva if they’re dramatic, over-react, and live for that tea. They can be temperamental, flighty, and a bit vain, but they’re made to entertain.

The Risk-Taker

Gryffindors aren’t known for planning head. They’re reckless, headstrong, and fly by the seat of their pants, and the Risk-Taker is no exception. They don’t let rules, traditions, or the risk of repercussions to stop them from doing what they want. They’ll take any dare, climb any mountain, and ignore any safety warning in the pursuit of thrills and adventure.

The Immature

Just as Ravenclaw’s wisdom can make it more mature and responsible, Gryffindor’s tendency to act without thinking about the consequences tends to cause Gryffindors to behave childishly, inappropriately, and stupidly. It’s no surprise that the house that loses points the most for breaking the rules, talking back to teachers, and childish pranks is the house whose values encourage irresponsible behavior.

The Genki

The Japanese subculture of Genki is characterized by an overzealous, energetic, and upbeat personality, one which is usually loud, outgoing, and talkative. They wear their hearts on their sleeve, and speak their mind openly. This zest of lively bubbliness is often viewed as charming and likable, which fits the image of the popular Gryffindor.

The Monarch

Gryffindors are often seen as the house of leaders and heroes. As the king the other houses follow and bow to. Leadership isn’t all just crowns and a fancy office. It involves making tough decisions and having the nerve to push yourself and others forward. The image of “The Good King” enforces the Gryffindor values of leading by example, and that just and moral leadership will produce a just and moral world.

The Popular

It’s no secret that Gryffindor is kind of the house of the Popular kids. Their friendly and social nature makes them people that others want to be around. While the Gryffindor ego can branch this archetype off into the Alpha Bitch and the Jerk Jock, the verdict still stands that the most popular people in Hogwarts are likely a part of this house. Even the house itself shares this popularity, as it is the most liked and often preferred of the four houses.

The Fool

The Prankster. The Class Clown. The Fool is someone who isn’t afraid to push the envelope to get a laugh. Gryffindors are unarguably the most social house, and that desire to impress and bond with others can compel them to stop at nothing to entertain themselves and others through their antics. However, they also tend to get in trouble for this behavior, and they have to be cautious: as sometimes the risk outweighs the humor, only making them a laughing stock, rather than a laugh riot.

HUFFLEPUFF

The Sidekick

Much as it stings, this House is a mass production house for sidekicks and comic relief characters to balance with the typically Gryffindor protagonist. Hufflepuff’s values of loyalty, friendship, and integrity make for very good friend characters. Hufflepuffs as the main character are pretty uncommon, mostly popping up as the support of the team. The healer, the defender, the plucky bard with an inspirational speech. But that loyalty and integrity is truly commendable, as they are some of the most dependable and trustworthy figures.

The Paragon

When “Too Good for This Sinful World” is taken literally, these characters have moral fibers so squeaky clean that they legally cannot say “fuck”. This archetype is the living embodiment of Lawful Good. These are the characters who play by the rules always. Who decry any action that means taking the low road. The Paragon comes in two different flavors depending on the tone. They’re either the one good person who win because they played fair and who people should strive to be like, or they’re the noble idiot walking right into a trap because they’re too naive to realize that they’re the only person playing by the rules.

The Heart

Some people can lie, cheat, and steal. Some are good at pretending they’re a different sort of person. But, not this Hufflepuff Archetype. They feel too often, too strongly, and too genuinely to pull off hiding how they feel. This archetype is a bit of an open book. What you see is what you get. That’s not to say that they never tell a lie, but they’re also more likely to come clean about it sooner or later just to get it off their chest.

The Hero

Although Hufflepuff is mostly a support house, occasionally, they get to play the lead. Most common in Shonen Anime, this Gryffindor/Hufflepuff hybrid archetype fights for what’s right because it’s the right thing to do. Think of this archetype as the White Knight. A crusader against injustice who fights with integrity and does so for the good of the people. They fight because somebody has to. Because they don’t want people to be afraid, alone, or injured. They strive to be a beacon that lights the way in dark times, and gives people something to hope for.

The Councilor

The Ravenclaw hybrid of Hufflepuff house, the Councilor is someone who helps others by listening to their problems and offering advice, guidance, or support in whatever capacity they can. They care about the well-being of others and offer themselves as a trusting confidante. They are gentle and reassuring, having the patience and open-mindedness to help others deal with their issues in a positive and healthy way.

The Entrepreneur

The Slytherin among Hufflepuffs, the Entrepreneur is someone who combines the hard-working work ethic of Hufflepuff with the ambition of Slytherin to be humble business owners. Their distinction from the Slytherin Workaholic is that Slytherins work to climb the corporate ladder. Hufflepuffs work because they love what they do and enjoy doing it. A less leader based sub-archetype is the worker bee, a hard worker who takes pride in doing a good job.

The Knight

The Knight is someone who is devoutly loyal to a cause or person. Their word is binding, and if they say they’re with you, they are with you, for better or worse. This also makes the Knight very easy to turn to the side of evil, as all it takes is swearing their loyalty to an evil person or cause for them to become a crusader for injustice and cruelty.

The Self-Righteous

Another Hufflepuff that can stray into villainy, a Hufflepuff can be a total villain if they mask their villainy behind a facade of being morally virtous. The Self-Righteous is the embodiment of the religious extremist. Those who commit atrocities in the name of God, King, and Country, even if their God, King, or Country distinctly condemns such behavior. However, because they assume they are fulfilling the desires of something which is intrinsically righteous, that must make them automatically righteous as well.

The Puppy

The cinnamon roll. Sunshine personified. The Puppy is an upbeat optimist that generally sees the good in others. Like a newborn puppy they are excitable, friendly, eager to please, loyal, sweet, and happy. Some might say that they’re too optimistic, crossing the line into naive, gullible, or foolish. But the puppy’s optimism is often backed by a strong conviction and a desire to help that makes them much more resilient and strong-willed than people might assume. They make great friends as they’re always eager to help others in any way that they can, and even when upset with a person will usually look for a nicer way of airing their grievances with people.

The Peacekeeper

The Peacekeeper is someone who strives to help others live harmoniously. They break up fights, help people settle their arguments, and only fights to maintain peace. They are sensitive souls that can’t stand fighting, hostility, or bullying. They just want people to get along, and they’re willing to do what they can to make that happen.

The Caretaker

Hufflepuffs are very aware of other people. They’re the most socially intelligent house. This archetype is composed of those who take care of those around them. They’re the friends who remind others to take their medication, to ask them if they remembered to do their homework, or to make sure they’ve had something to eat. They care about the well-being of others, and will gently nurse, encourage, and support the people that matter to them. However, this archetype can also go so far that it needs itself, putting so much of their attention and time on taking care of others that they need someone to remind them that self-care is also important.

The Mundane

So many people focus on the fact that Hufflepuff is the house of modesty and loyalty that they tend to overlook that the house is also the catch-all house of students who don’t fit into the other three houses. So, this Archetype is for people who aren’t really exceptional in anything. They aren’t brave like Gryffindor, Wise like Ravenclaw, or Cunning like Slytherin. They’re the “normal” or “average” person. Someone who doesn’t come across as being important or impressive. But Helga Hufflepuff saw the value in accepting anyone as long as she had room at her table.

RAVENCLAW

The Nerd

The first thing we think of when we hear Ravenclaw, Nerds are walking encyclopedias with a treasure trove of facts and information. They tend to study because they enjoy learning. For them, school was fun, and the library is an important place. If the burning of the Library of Alexandria angers you, welcome home ya nerd.

The Geek

Nerds know facts, Geeks know pop culture. If you know what year the first issue of Superman comics was written, you’ve found your label. A geek lives for cosplay, fandom, conventions, shipping, fanfiction, and memorabilia. And they are not Nerds. Nerds and Geeks are different, but can overlap. However, you don’t have to know book smarts to be a Geek.

The Bookworm

Not all Ravenclaws are brainiacs. The Bookworm has a love for reading that is not directly tethered to book smarts. For this archetype, reading is a relaxing hobby. It is often a trait among introverts, especially as a way to decompress, and they also tend be loners who prefer their quiet alone time.

The Valedictorian

Expect this archetype to have the highest grades, to be part of every club or organization, and has probably run for class president. A Ravenclaw with an undercurrent of Slytherin, they are ambitious in their intellectual pursuits. The main thing keeping them out of Slytherin house is their love of learning and knowledge which overshadows their ambition to achieve.

The Advocate

Just as the Valedictorian has elements of Slytherin, the Advocate has elements of Gryffindor. The advocate champions the rights of the underdog, stands up to hypocrisy, and points out logical fallacies in any argument. They hold up the light of truth and knowledge to combat ignorance and prejudice through their insight and knowledge.

The Dreamer

The Hufflepuff among Ravenclaws, The Dreamer is a Ravenclaw who believes in the inherit goodness of the world. These Ravenclaws may be seen as overly optimistic and naive, but this just speaks to Ravenclaw House’s knack for marching to its own beat, and standing out in a way that shows the house’s unique and open-minded world view.

The Scientist

Typically the standard “brain” of a team in fiction, most team brains tend to be nerdy in math and/or science, such as Pidge, Edd, and Entrapta. The Scientist is invested in scientific endeavors. They seek knowledge, but can easily be warped into the Mad Scientist, as characters like Lord Orochimaru, Rick Sanchez, and Shou Tucker cross the moral line as they perform inhuman experiments in pursuit of knowledge. They tend to value logic and the scientific approach, and will seek out evidence and statistics to reach a conclusion.

The Investigator:

Those who thirst for answers, The Investigator’s interest in knowledge is directly impacted by a desire to know and understand more. However, unlike the Scientist that may use this knowledge for personal gain, The Investigator prefers exposing the truth and uncovering the facts. They love cracking codes, solving riddles, unearthing secrets, and exposing the truth.

The Adult:

Ravenclaw is a house associated with wisdom, and with wisdom comes maturity, responsibility, and leadership. Expect these people to be mom friends and dad friends, offering advice, taking care of others, and typically being mature for their age, and wise beyond their years. They behave like an adult, even from an early age. They may get a bad wrap for being boring instead of young and reckless, but they are also sensitive, stable, and trustworthy.

The Creative:

Ravenclaws tend to think outside the box, and that wild imagination and intelligence tends to leak out as writing, painting, dancing, acting, and any other creative endeavor. Even those who lack the talent to be an artist themselves can still fall under this archetype if they appreciate and value the arts and creative acts.

The Unconventional:

Ravenclaw is known for being a little odd. Ravenclaws revel in their unusual eccentricities. They’re fine marching to the beat of their own drum. A bit of a nutty genius, artists like Salvadore Dali, David Bowie, and Mozart are known for being unusual. Entire artistic movements like cubism, avaunt guard, and club kid fashion follow this zany mindset.

The Cloudcuckoolander:

Separate from the Unconventional, the Cloudcuckoolander is someone whose mind is a strange and unusual thing to outsiders. They come off as almost being detached from reality, their head in the clouds, and seeming odd in their mannerisms. People tend to treat them as delusional or crazy, but they show themselves to be strangely insightful into others.

SLYTHERIN

The Mastermind:

Exemplified by a ruthless pursuit of power, the Mastermind treats situations like a game of chess, always plotting to give themselves the upper hand. They are cunning, ruthless, and goal-oriented, usually with an emphasis on control, dominance, and authority. They usually gravitate toward leadership positions and can be very skilled at getting others to comply with their wishes. This archetype is usually seen in villains like Regina Mills, Princess Azula, and Cersei Lannister. However, occasionally, this archetype gets to be seen in a better light with characters such as Daenerys Targaryen. And sometimes it’s played for laughs, such as with Brain and Plankton’s plans for world domination.

The Perfectionist:

This ambitious go-getter is characterized by a strong drive to be exceptional in everything they do. These are the characters who strive for the highest accolades, the top marks, and mastering anything they put their mind to. Often either a cry for validation or as a means to pursue their ambitions, this type of Slytherin is all about standing out by rising above the rest. They are driven by a desire to be their best self, and they’ll work themselves ragged to hold themselves to that high standard.

The Workaholic:

Tangentially related but distinct from the last archetype, the Workaholic is someone who basically treats their entire life like a business or a job. They have a planner loaded to the brim with a schedule that always keeps them moving, and leaves very little time for other things and people unless they can manage to pencil them in somewhere. These ambitious folks are very likely to succeed in life, but their social lives tend to suffer as a result.

The Detective:

Often mistaken for Ravenclaws, or straddling the line as Slytherclaws, The Detective archetype of Slytherin is someone who studies and learns things not for the simple joy of learning as true Ravenclaws do, but more often for the challenge, thrill, or to get what they’re after. This archetype views knowledge as a vital tool and weapon in their endeavors. Even if they enjoy learning, the knowledge they seek out is specifically related to what they are trying to accomplish.

The Tactician:

Like the Detective that teeters on the Ravenclaw line, the Tactician tends to straddle the line with Gryffindor. They can be brave, heroic, and reckless, but this archetype’s main distinction from a Gryffindor is their Slytherin tendencies. Whether they’re ambitious, clever, or strategic, they lack the brute force simplicity of a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor will rush in guns blazing, while a Slytherin knows the value of a sneak attack. Heroes like Percy Jackson, Link, and Katsuki Bakugou make full use of their cunning in the heat of a battle, looking for weakspots, analyzing the battlefield, and always willing to find a pragmatic solution to whatever they come across.

The Sincere:

The archetype to bleed over into Hufflepuff, this archetype is blunt, direct, and doesn’t sugar coat things. They are brutally honest. This can come across as mean and unsympathetic. But, even if it seems like they’re just dumping salt in the wound, it just means that they don’t pretend. They can be depended on to give the whole truth no matter how much it might sting. They might openly mock their friends, but when someone needs them, they can be depended on to give the most genuine feedback. And when things look bleak, this is a friend that can usually be relied on to offer their support. And if someone is too weak or scared to fight for themselves, The Sincere is the kind of friend who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty on someone else’s behalf.

The Charmer:

Ever aware of their public image, the Charmer is a Slytherin whose ambitions are met not through power, but through playing the social game. Experts at winning people over, these Slytherins can be just as ambitious and clever as any other. However, they choose instead to recruit and convince people to follow them and do their bidding with their charms and communication skills. They’re good at arguing their case, and speaking in such a way that people feel compelled to help them. This archetype often masquerades like they’re one of the other houses, especially Hufflepuff. But don’t let their charms fool you. They’re as Slytherin as they come.

The Rebel:

The Rebel is a Slytherin who much like Gryffindors view rules as more of a suggestion than anything else. They’re just trying to have fun and enjoy life, and rules tend to get in the way of that. Often pranksters, couch potatoes, or troublemakers, The Rebel tends to balance between being misunderstood and actual delinquency. However, their rebellious nature can drive them to question old norms and traditions and try to view the world in a new way. Their refusal to bow to old paradigms can mean that Rebel archetypes are champions for change and growth, for better or worse.

The Star:

A primadonna through and through, The Star archetype is one whose ambitions are focused directly on fame. All of their ambition and hard work is all in pursuit of that loftiest goal: the fleeting spotlight of celebrity. Whether they want to take Hollywood by storm, receive a standing ovation at center stage, or go viral on the internet, this archetype is determined to be in the spotlight and make a name for themselves. They can be divas, and may even be competitive with other performers, but it’ll all be worth it when they receive accolades for all of their talent and accomplishments.

The Rogue:

The Black Sheep. The dark knight. The Rogue is the typical anti-hero. Skirting the line between hero and villain, the Rogue is a pragmatist, able and willing to do what needs to be done without letting morality or personal feelings get in the way. Cynical, snarky, mean-spirited, and roguishly charming, the Rogue isn’t quite a bad guy, but being good does not mean being nice. Like The Sincere, The Rogue is unabashedly themselves, and lives earnestly.

The Survivalist:

The Slytherin mindset is one known for being pragmatic. A Slytherin will do what they must to get ahead. The Survivalist embodies this practical approach to problems, being flexible and adapting to situations in order to gain the upper hand. The Survivalist can be someone who survives in the wild, but it can also be someone whose loyalty, opinions, strategy and behaviors can easily change and adapt to new situations in order to thrive. They can thrive in a fast-paced high-stakes situation, and can usually improvise very well should their plans suddenly change. This ability to quickly adapt to circumstances makes this one type of Slytherin that’s hard to knock down.

The Competitor:

Fans of reality shows know that some of the greatest players are also some of the most diabolical and cut-throat. Evel Dick and Danielle were a wicked power duo in Big Brother 8, and Dan got 1st and 2nd in Big Brother 10 and 14 respectively. Slytherin and Gryffindor can both get competitive, but they play in different ways. Slytehrins are far more pragmatic, and have less of a problem lying to someone’s face to get ahead. These tactics, while underhanded, are great game moves. Dan hosting his own funeral in season 14 is still regarded as one of the most brilliant plays in Big Brother history because of how completely he flipped the power in the house. The Competitor can be a total monster, but they also tend to be monstrously entertaining.

Now that I’ve laid out the archetypes, I can start evaluating my characters. Looking over my protagonist, I’m pretty sure he’s a Ravenclaw, but let’s put the character to the sorting hat’s test. My character would fit into: [Gryffindor] -The Monarch [Hufflepuff] - the Heart - the Councilor - the Peacekeeper - the Mundane [Ravenclaw] - the Nerd - the Geek - the Bookworm - the Advocate - the Dreamer - the Adult - the Creative - the Unconventional [Slytherin] - the Perfectionist - the Charmer So this matches what I assumed, that he was a Ravenclaw main, and a Hufflepuff secondary, but I didn’t realize how far he was from being a Gryffindor or Slytherin. So his ratio chart would look like this:

While it’s not hard to sort characters, some aren’t always as clear-cut and I hope this writer’s aid helped you better define your character’s traits.

#writing #writing tips #hogwarts #harry potter #sorting hat #hogwarts sorting #character creation #character building #Characterization #hogwarts houses #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #writing advice

664 notes · View notes

urcharactersclasspect · 4 years

Note

Psst. Can I get some more details about Nazz and Jonny being Bards of Heart? That's a really interesting take imo!

Boy do YOU have an ESSAY to read

As a disclaimer, Ed Edd n Eddy isnt really a very deep show- Theres just tidbits of something deeper sometimes you can gather about the cul de sac and the kids we focus on in the show. Ive watched through the show from episode 1 to Eddy's movie and the last episode. But its been a hot second since Ive been a kid myself and I havent really sat down to watch it in a long time tbh.

Another disclaimer is, even though they share a godtier does not mean they will have the same personality! Since Personality by itself pretty much is not as relevant to classpects as much as how the aspects seem to bend around the person in question as they grow and delevoped. That being said..This is gonna be a long ass read. Im so sorry. I have THOUGHTS on everything.

For Nazz, throughout the show we see her literally making almost every boy in the Cul De Sac crush on her, she has no confirmed feelings until the last movie, where she and kevin want to date. Unlike most heart players in canon and the ones I have met or seen good protrayals of, i dont think she has unrequited feelings and we clearly see as much, but it sure does give me the same energy as Dirk's frequant troubles to just finally spit out his feelings for Jake through extreme indirect means, and how Heart players are actually way better at controlling how or showing how they really feel waaaay more than people give them credit for- This isn't to imply heart players are Emotionless and never show emotion, but Heart players are firmly NOT all sweethearts who are innocent, do no wrongs and are definitely not always bubbly fangirls like Meulin- Hell, even Meulin isn't really probably being honest with her own feelings on things either. On the contrary, they can be very intense with what they are passionate about whether it be romantic or just an interest of theirs. And usually, like Dirk, they are very self aware of that fact. So they sometimes try to hold back things about themselves they are all too aware of. Sometimes to a detriment, but not always. For Dirk, its his emotions in general he tries to keep to himself. For Meulin its likely her resentment of her team members and holding back her anger at Kurloz or maybe even her feelings for Kurloz still being there.

For the Bard part of her classpect, its the idea that Bards Mirror their opposite. The thing about Nazz is shes actually very responsible! Often giving an air of being very well put together for a kid to the rest of the cul de sacs kids and cool headed more times than not. Its part of the charm. Of her acting cool and casual- And just how she behaves regularly like nothing bothers her, but sometimes you can tell it does or just might (almost like a passive ghost of hpow Dirk acts). You learn over time shes actually very smart, too; she gets very good grades, is a model student who cheerleads, and even was seen as responsible enough by the parents of the cul-de-sac to babysit Eddy. Which definitely says something, I think. This is usually how we see Mind Players- Dirk being so cool headed but only the surface is too. Since its the stereotype at this point that Mind players are the calm ones (which I have my own opinions on too but thats another essay for another time).

DESPITE this chill and responsible facade on the surface, Nazz has SEVERAL times shown some genuine Heart player impulsiveness or thinking with her heart on a sleeve. She allows Edd into her bathroom without even thinking about it, even when it wasn't cleaned up. You see how she acts on emotion like humouring Edd a lot through the show even by kissing him at one point and dancing with him even when it wasnt the popular thing to do, she humours Kevin but lectures him for his own impulsiveness on pure anger towards the Edds frequantly, passively destroying someone elses impulses and making him think before he acts a little more; In spite of this too, she also can get violent towards the Edds herself and irritable when things dont go her way, and we even learn Nazz for all her coolness and popularity, still has insecurities shes VERY emotional about- her hair being one. Much like Dirk does about this or that. Im sure theres further proof to get what Im saying across, but Im rambling as is. So thats where Ill end that tirade, I think it REALLY fits Nazz. So theres my conclusion.

For Jonny 2x4. Its easier to tell you why I think it fits him, and Id say its for far more obvious reasons when you really get down to it. Hes probably an example of a Bard that simply hasn't learned how to gauge his aspect very well in every day life, leading to him becoming more of an annoyance to those around him much like how you see Cronus or Gamzee be treated. Someone who hasn't quite "gotten it" yet. I don't think this is nessasarily because Jonny is stupid though, at least maybe not as stupid as he makes himself out to be, since hes shown to definitely have some intellegience, more like its because hes Younger (theres no direct ages we know of?), but he does act a lot younger than Nazz so thats my best assumption, and hes also in a seperate enviroment from Nazz, who I personally see as a far healthier Bard for reasons I'll be getting into in a minute here. just know. Jonny has similiarities to Nazz with how the Heart aspect bends around him; Theres too many instances to count where hes just being impulsive but he tries to come across as braver or calmer than he really is. But if I admitted all of them for Jonny, we'd be here all day long and you'd be reading even MORE.

Lets just go with the obvious signs outside those then.

Jonny is a very lonely kid. This is similiar to Dirk too; Jonny is never seen with any genuine friends except his attempts to befriend the Edds, as stated before some kids in the cul-de-sac consider him to be an annoyance due to his own impulsiveness, and this because hes a very socially awkward kid because even in his own home theres rather dark implications of Child Nelgect or something happening. Even the Creator of the show states this interesting quote in an interveiw: "He'd be more or less thrown out the door at 9am and only let back in when it got dark or if it was time to eat. He had an imaginary friend. " Hes that lonely kid who was so lonely and felt so much so he had to resort to Imaginary friends, imposing an identity to an object that seemingly has a similiar personality to his own or a personality that meshes well enough for them to "get along" and to not get along sometimes- this is seen constantly with Jonny talking to Plank. Jonny sometimes disgrees with the morality of Plank, but hes also best friends with Plank and if I remember correctly, Jonny even says at point they are as close as brothers- PLank knows him more than he knows himself, as Jonny says. Sometimes Plank suggests even illegal things - things a little kid like Jonny (supposedly) wouldn't know about or do himself. Almost like Jonny knows weird things from listening to his parents and imposed them onto Plank, making Plank "real" so Jonny could stay in his own head and pretendHE doesn't know anything. If that makes sense. Much in the same manner as Dirk having conversations of various focuses with HAL and objects he himself has inputted his will or rather - his Soul and Heart onto.

Thinking about this some more. I think an arguement could be made that Jonny isn't actually a Bard of Heart, but maybe a Bard of MIND. But IM not so sure.

If i think of anything more to add to this, I might revisit my thoughts on it later and reblog or edit it more.

#long post //#bard of heart #Classpecting #ed edd n eddy #jonny 2x4 #nazz van bartonshmeer #classpect analysis

8 notes · View notes

vore-scientist · 4 years

Text

Hey Little SongBird

[Sfw safe soft M/m GT vore]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Premise: A bard is in desperate need of a story. Can he sing his way out of being eaten by the evil giant wizard known as Yonah HaEsh? Well. No. But perhaps he can sing his way out of the wizard’s stomach? A fun little adventure for sure.

Story is First Person (The Bard’s) POV. He’s a expressive narrator.

Warnings: big Fear.play during the vore scene! This is a thief style story. Yonah, if you don’t know, is very convincing when he says he kills people. And because he has no quick and easy safety spell, his treats sometimes end up a little bit well, not di.ges/-ted but slight skin irritation happens from time to time. Yes some pain, but no permanent harm! Yonah’s very practiced at making sure they are A-OK!

Ok onto the story!

---

I hate the stereotype of bards being horny tricksters who use their voices to seduce people into infidelity. Any such stories are complete poppycock and base slander. Bards are more than pretty faces and lovely voices. We are first and foremost story tellers, entertainers! Actors and chroniclers! Often risking life and limb to get you the stories you love so much. Those fancy sword moves and fight dances you see on stage aren’t just for show.

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo-ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet, I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild, you might ask? Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The Apprentices, the Journeyers. Not Masters such as I.

At least, not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me.

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways.

Regardless, to earn back my place in the guild I needed a new story, an impressive story. So I gathered my supplies and took the first teleport to the City of Luster, closest city in the Kingdom of Orr to the Mystic Woods. Sure, other cities exist at its borders, but Luster is the only one with a direct path into the Woods. A path that is safe, to a point.

It’s also a great place to get a few last minute supplies. For example, a small ukulele. My previous instrument, my precious goldenrod Oud, was repossessed by the guild. I needed something cheap and lightweight. And also I was banned from purchasing from most craftsfolk because, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, I'm Blacklisted.

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there.

Right! I was ready to go.

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road.

And Into the Woods.

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story.

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero—maybe I—would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck—it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!!

Not that I’m on a time limit.

The gnomes were so nice, and they made the most delightful floral scented cakes. They enjoyed my songs and tales about heroic gnomes and I left their camp with a flower crown and a sack of cakes.

I felt like today I would find a story!

Nope.

In this forest of wonder and magic and monsters and secrets, I ran into nothing. I even played music to attract trouble but Nooooooooo, guess even the beasts of the woods knew I was blacklisted!

It was late afternoon when I found some interesting deer tracks and decided to follow.

Bards aren’t known for our stealth but I’m going to tell you a secret. What’s the guild gonna do! Blacklist me?

Anyways the secret is: certain Bards learn to play notes and pitches that cancel out our footsteps and create silence.

I followed the prints to find a small herd of very interesting deer!

They had really interesting patterns, each one slightly different but only if you looked closely. That meant I needed a closer look.

So focused on the deer I didn’t watch my feet and I tripped. The deer ran off.

“HEY!” a shrill voice called from somewhere in the trees, “What did you do that for?”

No idea who was yelling at me but I was taking no chances, and like the deer I bolted. But not fast enough, not nimble enough.

An arrow shot by my leg and stuck in the ground. I stopped. And stood perfectly still.

“Idiot.” the voice was now right behind me!

I turned. And looked down. It was an elf! With plum purple skin and dark green hair.

And they were laughing.

Then another elf fell from the trees to land silently next to the first. This one had dark green skin and straw yellow hair. Their long ears were standing straight up reaching higher than my eyes.

They were laughing too.

“What’s so funny?”

“You responded to ‘idiot’!” Said the purple one.

Ugh. Elves!!

Then they got suddenly more serious.

“Can’t believe it! We’ve been hunting those deer before the sun even rose and you happened to trip when we got them in our sights!”

“I’m... sorry?”

The second elf elbowed the first, “He couldn’t have known we were there, Damian! Not his fault!” She spoke in elvish but I’m fluent.

The first elf, Damian, looked up and half groaned half sighed, “and I suppose, Bridget, that I should apologize to the human for almost shooting him?”

I don’t know why I spoke up but I did.

“It was an impressive warning shot!”

Damian’s ears stood up again then folded back and a little red flush appeared on the purple cheeks. As did on Bridget’s but for a different reason.

“Yes. Warning shot,” they said.

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut. Not a smart idea to quip about an elf’s hunting prowess. I still wasn’t happy to learn they were trying to shoot me!

“You’re an adventurer?” Asked Bridget. “What’s your name?

“A bard!” I said. “I’m, um, Ophir!”

“Need a place to stay tonight, Ophir?”

The shadows were lengthening, I hadn’t noticed. And then my stomach growled.

“I sure do. But are you sure? I mean I did scare the deer-“

Damian shouldered their bow and nodded, “It wouldn’t be very elven to leave a stranger in the woods.”

Even not hunting they moved so silently I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I followed them to their village. We stopped by the temple, as it is the respectful thing to do when entering the village. It was set up for fall, done up in browns and oranges and paper chains. On the altar was a single brown leaf. The first one seen by a member of the village.

I’m not elvish but I still prayed to Autumn for my hometown to have a bountiful harvest.

I sat on the floor in the common dining hall as my new… friends, sat on stools made of tree stumps. They may not have caught any deer but there was some sort of roasted meat concoction wrapped in sugary leaves, crystallized to give it crunch, making a sweet and savory combination I’d never experienced before. The same sugar crispy leaves were used to scoop a sort of nut and vegetable curry. Delightful! I could write a song just about the food.

I of course told them why I was in the woods, since they were curious.

And they told everyone how I tripped and fell, exaggerating it greatly. All the elves laughed but knowing elves I was better off. They enjoyed slapstick comedy. The fact that I was able to laugh at myself seemed to gain me favor.

One elf, with lighter green skin and dark brown hair laughed like the rest and yet, their eyes were deep in thought. They were a strange one, I think. Even by elf standards they had a strange name.

Jacuzzi? Who names themselves Jacuzzi?

Then they spoke.

“So, Ophir, you need a story?” They asked. I nodded.

“I think I can help you,” they said, “at the very least point you in the right direction.”

At their words a lot of the company got quiet.

“If you’re that desperate, there’s,” they paused, as if they were still considering whether or not to tell me. “A wizard. If you encounter him, you’re sure to get a proper story.”

I couldn’t think why this made the elf act so strange, plenty of mages made it their job to participate in tales. Though, with wizards they were usually evil, if not a member of an adventuring party. Nonetheless! A story about a wizard sounded fantastic.

“Where does-“ I stopped myself from finishing that stupid sentence. Nowhere in the Mystic Woods stayed put so asking for directions was complete folly.

“What’s the best way to, uh, find him?”

Jacuzzi shrugged “The birds have the most up to date information. But you’ll know it’s his place when you find the tower in the garden.”

Lots of wizards had towers, few had gardens. That was more of a witch thing.

“He’ll be there? Tonight?”

“Probably, he can't- well he’ll be there. If not tonight then by the morning. Don’t mess with his things.”

Sound advice.

“Hold on tonight?” Damian re-entered the conversation. “Are you mad? Traveling the forest at night is dangerous! Especially alone.”

“So? I’m trying to get into trouble. Doesn’t make a difference if I find it at the tower or on my way.”

My confidence wasn’t entirely fake. I had a good meal, I wasn’t tired. I could knock this out by morning!

“Thank you, for everything.”

I swear I heard giggling as I departed. If these elves were pulling one over on me well! I don’t know what I would do but I’ll think of something. I had a wizard to find.

It wasn’t long before I realized why I should have waited for morning.

No! Birds!

From whom could I ask directions? A rodent? They were never as helpful. The sun was about to set. It was only early autumn, the days were still a decent length, but it would be dark real soon. No birds, no people.

Wait. I spoke too soon. There were footsteps. It was a slim chance but maybe they could help me.

“Young man, what are you doing? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night alone?”

The voice had a deep and soft quality that wasn’t human. But they were speaking Orrian. Really folks, dont meet strangers in the forest that you can’t see. They’re usually evil witches or sorcerers or cyclops ogres. Yeah, one-eyed ogres are skilled talkers, luring people to them. It was only after I answered I realized this could be an ogre.

“Aren’t you out alone too?”

“Why yes-” the voice was closer and then I saw them.

Thankfully it wasn’t and ogre. But it was a witch, and a dwarf one. Uncommon. Probably not evil. It did explain why they were confidently out at night. Dwarves had pretty amazing night vision. They had the traditional black robe and hat, and a cat sat down beside them. It was a really large cat, which was amusing next to the short witch. Their long braided beard was decorated with trinkets, which was a quaint look I must admit.

“But I live here.”

I stood up straight, which I guess was a bit rude.

“How do you know I don’t?” I stammered, “I could!”

The dwarf stroked their beard, “I guess it’s possible, do you?”

I sighed and slouched, “No…”

“But I am looking for trouble.” I explained my story and the dwarf listened, smiling kindly.

“So the elves told me I would be guaranteed a story if I found this wizard who has a tower and a garden-”

The witch’s eyebrows raised.

“- you know this wizard?”

The cat mrowed loudly, his tail swishing on the forest floor a bit faster.

“I do indeed,” there was an extreme fondness in their voice.

“And you know where he is?”

The witch laughed, “I’d say this was coincidence, but in these parts there are too many of those to be truly coincidental. I do in fact know the current location, and it’s close by.”

“Really!” I almost danced with excitement.

Unlike the elves the dwarf had no hesitations. They pointed me in the right direction, and informed me of a few roadblocks and landmarks.

“If you hurry you should be just in time for dessert,” they said, waving as I wasted no more time in heading off.

“Thanks so much!” I turned on my lantern and my back on the witch.

Oh if I had only thought about the implications of their last words to me.

Hilarious. In hindsight.

Nevermind that now, I’m sure you’re already laughing. Hahaha.

Finding the tower was easy with the witch’s directions. They’d even told me the thorns were fake and the vines safe to climb up. That should have raised red flags, or some color, but I was so focused on achieving my goal.

Now, we bards aren’t really known for our… physical abilities beyond dance. We can fight sure, but a fifty-foot climb is gonna leave most bards gasping for breath. I'm proud to say I was merely on the cusp of wheezing, though I was having difficulty standing.

I needed to rest. So I lay on the windowsill.

Which I failed to notice stretched so that I could more than easily lie down. The cool night air and stone felt so nice. I looked into the tower.

And my heart stopped.

I’d gotten a brief glimpse before nearly passing out, but it was different now.

Exactly the same.

But.

Bigger.

You might know, my readers, that wizards are all human. All of them. Non-humans aren’t allowed to attend the academy. I’m sure those like I, being a quarter fairy, might be let in, but... This- this giant sized workshop didn’t make any sense. A giant could not be a wizard no way. Why would the elves say this was a wizard’s tower? Did they not understand the difference between wizard, witch, and sorcerer?

But the dwarf witch, they had to know! They had not corrected me. Plus, the workshop did have a very wizard feel to it.

What was going on here?

I needed a moment to process so I rolled over to look outside. Looking inside made my head hurt.

But a Giant Wizard. If that were real, what a story! If it were fake, then well, a giant mage is still exciting. I looked once more into the room. Three desks, one for material prepping and alchemy, one that looked like the main workbench, and one… like a spare workbench? It was not very organized compared to the other. And shelves full of things I could not identify.

And on the floor, an open trap door with stairs leading down. Down to where the wizard must be.

I was thankful I had noticed the shift in scale, or I surely would have fallen 15 feet onto the floor. Instead I got out my grappling hook and rope and rappelled down. With a flick, the hook dislodged. This place was large, I would need it again.

I could have spent hours in this room, just taking in the immense magical collection, but that wasn’t why I was there. And I heard noises from down the stairs. Water? Clinking metal? I took each stair one at a time, slowly making my way deeper into the tower.

Either the kitchen just happened to be one floor down or this stairwell was enchanted to take you to the floor you were thinking about. For just as I reached the landing I saw the massive doorframe that led into what was clearly a kitchen and small dining room. Small for the giant, who was at the sink washing pots, pans, and other things.

He certainly looked like a wizard! A tall wide brimmed hat with a curling point, and robes that matched the garish colors and patterns. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and mutton chops, and long curly black hair tied behind his back. On his handsomely large nose rested thick square spectacles. Not only was he tall, he was just plain large.

I know I talked about the false stereotypes of bards, but we weren't the only profession with them. People tended to think of Wizards as more delicate, as they spent all their time studying, never going out, forgetting meals. But this, man, for he looked more human than giant except for being over 20ft tall, well the only word for it was burly.

I’d never imagined a wizard who, if you removed his wizard robes, put him in a flannel shirt and handed him an axe would be a picture perfect lumberjack. Now such a wizard was right before my very eyes.

Suddenly I was not so confident. I should have lost my nerve back at the window, when I saw the scale of the workshop. But it just didn’t hit me until I saw the giant. I’ve seen giants before, they are actually larger than this person, that made him seem more dangerous.

Oh.

Oh no.

This wasn’t just any wizard, or any giant.

This one was evil.

Maybe I could just leave! Yeah. I would just get the fuck out of here. I was not prepared to handle an evil giant wizard.

I made my decision a bit too late. The giant stopped cleaning a plate to look up and sniff the air.

Shit.

It was futile to run, but it was my only option. I didn’t even make it up two stairs before the giant roared with delight.

“FEE FI FO FUM!”

No no no! Not that!

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND!”

Well technically I was quarter fairy but-

“IT MATTERS NOT THE THINGS YOU STOLE, I’LL CAPTURE YOU AND SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.”

Yeah… I should not have come here. Evil giants tend to eat people. I’d had a small hope that this smaller giant, who was very likely a proper wizard, wouldn’t.

He made it to the stairwell in a few seconds and scooped me up in one hand, holding me up to his face.

“How convenient,” he smiled, revealing very giant-like fangs. His breath was horrible. “I was just thinking I needed some dessert.”

I cursed the witch from earlier. They knew! They knew he would want to eat me! But the witch wasn’t here, wasn’t my problem right now.

“Please! Mister Wizard, I did not steal anything, I am no thief! I’m a bard!”

The giant raised his eyebrows, but did not set me down, instead he turned and walked down the stairs.

“A bard?” he asked, “what’s your name?”

“Ophir Shel Peh!” I said.

The giant tapped his chin. “Hm. Yes I would say you probably are a bard! I don’t get many of those.”

The room he entered was some sort of living room. But I didn’t really have the capacity to take in any details other than the chair that he sat down in.

“I wonder if bards taste any different from thieves!” he said with excitement that made my heart drop to my feet.

“Please, please don’t eat me!” I begged. “I just wanted a story!”

“Hm,”he placed me on the coffee table but did not let me go. Instead he started removing my gear, everything except my clothing. Things were going from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t have much hope of surviving but he wasn’t eating me just yet, and he was clearly open to conversing.

“Well! Either I would tell the tale of my adventure here, or, you could give me a tale, perhaps in exchange for something?”

The giant laughed, “you came here on your own to challenge me? So you could tell your tale?”

I nodded.

“Very foolish,” he growled, “But I could tell you a story.”

“Really?!”

“Not that you would ever get to tell it.” he continued, “since I’m going to eat you.”

He sounded like he’d really made up his mind about that. But the longer he talked the more time I had to think of a way out of this. I didn’t want to point out that him eating me defeated the purpose of him telling me a story in the first place.

“It’s a good one too. Surely you were surprised to find me a half-giant and wizard.”

I nodded again, a bit more dumbfounded. Half giant explained a lot already.

“But if I tell you how I ended up here, you must promise not to tell it until his mystical majesty is dead. Or I am.”

What?

“Are you dying?”

The giant looked wistful. “No. But I’m a villain. I could die any day. The next person who comes into my tower could be the one who kills me.”

“And you’ll finally get what's coming to you I guess,” I said. “Like I’ll even be able to tell it since I’ll be one of your victims.”

The giant laughed, “oh yes, of course. Cause I’m going to eat you! Like I have many others before.”

Great. I shouldn’t have said anything.

He scooped me up again and placed me on the armrest. Then he let me go. But i didn’t dare try to run.

“I guess I could start at the beginning, when I decided to become a wizard.” he mused, “The life story of Yonah HaEsh.”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, and then down at me.

“How foolish I was. I mean obviously I succeeded but it was still foolish.”

You know how I said I would spend the time while he rambled to think of a way out of this? Well his story was certainly long enough. Gods, wizards don’t leave out details! They have no concept of narrative flow!

And yet. It was riveting. His human father was a fire witch and that got him interested in magic. So he disguised himself as human to attend school. He was found out eventually, expelled and arrested for infiltrating the kingdom as a dangerous magical monster. He was almost executed before he was offered a job here in the tower! And amazingly, the Grand Master of the school had taken pity on him and allowed him to continue his studies here and graduate, earning the right to call himself a wizard.

The point is I forgot about escaping. Until he started to wrap up his story.

“Never intended to become evil. But it suits me!” He said brightly.

That brought me back to reality. Evil. Giant!

I was in his hand again, not so tightly this time but still secure. Face to face. He was smiling again and chuckling.

“Especially since it means I get to eat people!”

“You're so surprised you’re evil but I’m not!”

I think he knew I was stalling more but didn’t care.

“How so?”

“You spent years among smallfolk! You have smallfolk friends! And you’re perfectly fine eating us?”

He snorted “it was smallfolk that expelled me from school, that nearly executed me for trying to learn magic! And for trapping me here, in my tower. Make no mistake, this gilded cage is still a cage.”

There really was no going back.

“Now your time's up, and I’m hungry.”

I still screamed! Who wouldn’t! I was sure he was going to have to bite me in half to eat me even if his earlier proclamation was to swallow me whole.

I barely fit in his mouth, ribs pressed into his lower teeth and it hurt! His saliva soaked me through so quickly I could only imagine how good I tasted. I tried to brace myself on his teeth but my hands slipped between the jaws. Even more distressing he was definitely enjoying my struggles and flavor.

Then I was upside down! And even in the tight space I slipped towards his throat. I put my hands forward to try and stop but it was so slick they slid down into his throat, along with my shoulders, as he swallowed.

The air was crushed out of my lungs and I dared not scream. It was hard, as I knew where I was headed, and I was surrounded by hot rubbery flesh that shoved at me, eager to get me to my destination.

A massive throbbing against my face told me I was passing by his heart. It was at this point he took another swallow and my feet slipped into his throat, my hands… they touched air. Thick. Hot air.

And then so did my face and I made the mistake of gasping for breath. As the air smelled of vomit, and I remembered the wizard was cleaning up from dinner when I arrived. I was smelling the remains of that meal. Oh gods if he had eaten me right away I would have been sitting in food! It was a small bit of reprise, I guess. That the giant decided to talk for a couple of hours.

My feet were still in the esophagus when my face pressed against the opposite wall of the stomach. It was slimy like I couldn’t believe! I pulled my feet free and oriented myself so that I was sitting upright.

This must be what it feels like to be kidnapped in a sack. A sack that was going to be dunked in acid.

“You awake in there?” said a deep rumbling voice from above, and I felt a sharp nudge. Great. He wasn’t done with me, and I failed a bit in protest. “Ha! That’s better, I go through all the trouble of swallowing you down, the least you can do is struggle and scream a bit.”

“If I do that, I’ll run out of air quicker!” I squawked. Though I suspected I would start crying soon enough. Either just out of despair or because of the pain.

I wasn’t feeling anything yet except for slime and heat, so it wasn’t likely to be a quick death. Depending on how long it took for digestion to work on a whole human, I might run out of air and pass out first. That would be nice, less painful. Unconscious I would feel nothing. I would much prefer that- oh.

“Mr Wizard,” In that moment I’d forgotten his name, thought I wouldn’t need it if I was going to die.

Another jab at my side. “Yes, my tasty little bard?”

“Can I make a final request?”

The entire chamber squished and bounced a bit, and I imagined the giant heaving a sigh and sitting back in his chair.

“That depends on the request.”

“I- I want to sing one last song. But I need my ukulele, can you-” I kind of shuddered, but it wasn’t like an heirloom or something, “swallow it for me?”

There was a long pause, or it felt long because my timeline was now so short.

“I'm not a fan of eating objects,” he said, then heaved another sigh, “but I suppose I can do that.”

I felt him lean over and then heard a sickening gulp. If I was going to die I was going to die singing with an instrument in my arms!

I plucked a few cords and shook out as much of the drool as I could.

“Your voice isn’t magical is it?” Asked the giant as I tuned the ukulele.

I smiled “No, it is. I’ve got some Fey ancestry. Never really tested its power. Mostly I’ve played monsters to sleep. Or made a crowd cry with an opening line. People tell me that when I weave a tale it’s as if they were there first hand. Not so useful when you’re already eaten.”

Unless he’s so moved by my song that he takes pity. But I didn’t say that out loud.

“Well, just make it a nice song. I’ve got sensitive ears.”

Ok… I had a momentary thought of singing so loudly and so sharply that his ears bled. But then I realized he was making a threat. He could make my death much much worse. My original song was fine.

I strummed the ukulele, it sounded so odd in the stomach. And maybe it couldn’t penetrate out so well. I used a little magic to boost it. I don’t always use magic, except for my naturally magical voice, but I figured…

This would be my last performance. And it would be for my murderer. Still, I was compelled to make it a good one.

I’d already made it through the first instrumental bars, and I took a breath of the rancid air.

In the quiet mystic morning When the sun’s just graced the land O’er the horizon, lies a story And it begs to take my hand

Now that summer’s ceased its gleaming And the harvest’s past its prime In adventure i've found meaning But I’ll be homeward bound in time

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

As the first instrumental break started I turned my attention to the giant’s response. It was hard to evaluate from inside of him. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t hitting my mark.

If you find it’s me you're missing And you’re hoping I’ll return To your thoughts I’ll soon be listing On the road I’ll stop and turn

It was starting to hurt a bit now, I hadn't noticed it at first since when I perform I tend to feel all floaty and numb, but now pain penetrated my fog. I directed it into my voice and I cried out.

For the wind has set me racing As my journey now begins To leave the path I’ll be retracing When I’m homeward bound again

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

The second, and last, instrumental break. Did I feel shaking around me? Was this working? Breathing was becoming harder, my skin stung. My shoulders, elbows, and knees ached too, this was a horrible position. The fluid level was rising. But I didn’t stop. I would finish this song.

I was practically sobbing at this point but my song rang out.

In the quiet Mystic morning When the moon has gone to bed When adventure’s lost its meaning…

I’ll be homeward bound

Again

With the last few notes from my mouth, I gripped the ukulele so hard it almost cracked.

Then the chamber jerked. I heard heavy breaths. Again. Was that a sniff?

Was he crying? Please. Gods of music.

“Dammit,” he hissed and sniffed again, “Fine. I’m letting you go. Stupid bard.”

My brain was so frozen with elation I couldn’t actually believe it until it was happening. Not until I was physically forced back up the way I’d come. I slid out of the giant’s mouth and into shallow warm water. I took deep breaths of the clean air. And Yonah continued to retch as I got my bearings.

We were back in the kitchen, I was in the sink! Wait where was- The giant let out a horrible sound like a cat with a hairball and with a plop, my ukulele joined me in the bath.

Now Yonah looked at me, eyes red and puffy, some tear streaks down his face. Though he had just violently thrown up.

“Congratulations, Ophir the bard,” he spat, but he was grinning, “You have your story.”

I- I blinked in astonishment. He was right. I’d trekked through the woods, hung out with gnomes, got led to my near doom by elves and a witch, and sang so sorrowfully I made the evil man-eating giant cry and let me go.

“Th-thank you-” I said, and I let him help me out of the sink and onto a towel to dry.

“I should be thanking you!” he said. “Dessert and entertainment all in one!”

The fact that he still thought of me as food wasn’t reassuring but I didn’t think he was going to eat me again. In fact, Yonah’s entire demeanor had changed, he wasn’t so harsh looking, his voice was softer.

“Would you like some tea? That helps after a near-death experience.”

He didn’t wait for my response but went to get the tea leaves and pot.

“Hold on!” I said, but he didn’t stop making tea. “Did you even intend on killing me?”

He smiled as he put the pot on the stove and lit it with a snap of his fingers and a flash in his eyes.

“No, not really, you’re not a thief.” Yonah laughed at some joke that only he got.

“So why-” I mean he could have gotten me to sing before swallowing me whole.

“Your fairy blood.” I looked confused, “I could smell it on you, sweet and magical. I wasn't going to pass up such a special treat.”

If there was a god who could erase horrifying knowledge from the mind I would have prayed to them.

“Then- did my song do anything?” I choked like I was back in his stomach, unable to breathe.

It was clear he saw the distress in my face, that I was not as good a bard as I thought I was.

“My tears were real, little bard. I didn’t expect to be moved so much. Even if I had meant to kill you... you might have convinced me otherwise.”

The teapot whistled and he went to take care of it. I sat down. I was so lucky. Had the elves known he would spare me? Was that why they were laughing? This was some convoluted prank? And the witch, how were they in on it? Not that it mattered, their reasons and motivations weren’t important for my story.

Then I remembered, “Your story!” I said, rather loudly.

He stopped what he was doing, which was carefully using magic to pour a cup for me. “Yes?”

“I'm not dead! I can tell your story!” I stood back up, one hand on my hip the other pointing, “That’s why you let me go isn’t it.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “That definitely factored into it.”

Motherfucker! This also meant I wasn’t done with him. He was getting out a smaller place setting for me to sit at but I didn’t sit down, or drink the tea.

“I need- I need to write it all down!” I said, “I have a good memory, but I was under duress before. I need to hear it again. And write it down."

The wizard smiled again, showing his teeth, but this time it did not scare me.

“Then let’s take this upstairs, shall we?”

He held out his hand and without hesitation I sat on it. I was placed on his shoulder and he took me, and the tea, to the workshop.

Amazingly he had a few blank notebooks that were human sized, and human sized pens. Nice ones too. And a human sized desk? The set up was perfect.

“Since I have until either you or the king dies, I can do proper research. I’ll need names and places and dates! And your parents, if you know how they met, that would make a great prologue!”

We worked well into the night. My cup of tea got cold.

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

FOR REFERENCE, HERE’S HOW THE SONG SOUNDS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VooU55wzSEc

#safe vore #soft vore #sfw vore #g/t vore #nonfatal vore #extreme cuddling #PLASE REBLOG

74 notes · View notes

gt-adventures · 4 years

Text

Hey Little SongBird

(SFW GT fantasy adventure short story.)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Staring: Yonah HaEsh the half-giant wizard. and guest-starring Ophir, the mostly human bard.

Summary: Ophir the bard needs a story to get back in the good graces of the Bards Guild and ventures into the Mystic Woods to find one. And what a story he ends up in! In the clutches of the Great and Terrible Yonah HaEsh. Can Ophir, through story, song, and dance, touch the evil “man-eating” giant’s wicked heart and avoid a terrible fate? (yes of course he can!)

Warnings: Yonah’s job is to be a villainous fairy tale giant (and wizard). That means the whole “fee fi fo fum” and threatening to eat people routine, and he’s really convincing. At no point in this story does he ever intend to follow through on the threat. ALSO Ophir tells a fairytale that ends slightly gruesomely (I actually changed it to be less so… still)

---

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo’ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet. I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild? You might ask. Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The apprentices, the journeyors. Not Masters such as I. At least. Not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me.

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways.

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there.

Right! I was ready to go.

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road.

And Into the Woods.

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story.

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero, maybe I, would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck, it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!!

Not that i'm on a time limit.