#smiling critters forest frolickers

[bazyboo13]

I'm revamping (and adding) my old Smiling Critters OCs! To a group! It's called the Forest Frolickers!

Here is the leader of the bunch!

[thewaxingcrescentsjournal]

I'VE UPDATED THE RELATIONSHIP CHART IN PREPARATION FOR THE END OF ACT 1: THE HOUR OF JOY!

Catnap

Dogday

Kickin

Bubba

Guide Moth

Fluffy Felix

Frowny Fox

Sourtail

Cardinal Bomb

Craftycorn

To be continued in a repost...

[squigglewiggles]

Hey There! I'm not sure if you remember from the first blog, but I think I requested a Welcome Home TK Fic, with Julie and Frank going into the woods

Hello, There! I do remember! Here you go, I will re-post it for you! I apologize, I completely forgot what I named it!

Warning, this is a tickle fic!

Hanging Vines

“OOH! Frank! Look at that one there!” Julie squealed. Out in the neighborhood, Frank and Julie were out catching bugs and critters of all sorts. The heat was near overwhelming with the sun shining down on the two puppets, but the breeze was enough to keep them from getting too warm. The smell of fresh flowers and nature surrounded them as they frolicked around, looking for insects.

“Yes, Julie I see it,” Frank recoiled as Julie shouted in his ear, “However, that one is quite extraordinary!” Frank smiled. He ran over to the bug that had just landed on a nearby flower. Julie followed.

The bug appeared to be a beautiful butterfly! The wings were beautifully colored with vibrant pigments, which stood out further with a shimmering iridescent tint. Frank Pulled out his magnifying glass, but the critter flew away closer to the forest before he could get a good look!

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you yet!” Frank exclaimed. He ran after the creature with Julie still trotting along after him. It landed once more, just outside of the forest. Frank pulled out his magnifying glass once more and took a look at the butterfly. He got a few more seconds of looking before Julie crashed into him! Her attention was caught by a dragonfly whizzing around, so she was not looking ahead and bumped right into him, knocking him into the forest. 

“AH! Julie, you have to be more careful! Now I’m covered in dirt-” Frank paused, as he was laying on the ground of the forest, he felt something tug at his wrist and ankle. He looked down to see vines wrapping around his arms and legs, which soon pulled him deeper into the forest.

“A-Ah, what?? Julie! H-Help- GAH!” Frank yelped. He tried to clamber out, but before he could even move an inch, the vines had grown too strong. They lifted the gray puppet up into the air.

“FRANK! What’s going on??” Julie yelled to them. She tried to help by pulling him down, but the vines had gotten her too. Before they knew it, both of them were hoisted into the air by huge green creeping plants. Julie tried to crane her neck to see if Frank was alright, but she stopped once she heard a familiar sound. Frank started to giggle hysterically, which caused Julie to wonder…

“Frank? What’s so funny!?” She called out. Before long, she was filled in on the situation. Another vine had slowly creeped up to Julie’s torso. It started to lightly scratch and wiggle at her sides and tummy, causing her to squeak and cackle at the sensations. Frank was getting similar treatment, as the vines had worked their way up towards Frank’s neck, wiggling against the sensitive skin.  

The two puppets were wiggling, giggling, blushing messes as the vines had their way with them. The teasy plants were relentless and seemingly taking note of what made Frank and Julie squeal and thrash the most. From pinching to wiggling to vibrating to tracing, there was not a single thing these vines did not try.

“HEHEHEY! LEHET UHUHS DOHOHOWN! HEHEHAHA!” Julie squealed in her most demanding voice, which was not very demanding at all. At once, the vine suddenly dropped her, only to catch her by the ankle so that she was dangling upside down from her leg. Julie yelped. In this new position, she was now left utterly defenseless. The vine that had previously been working at her torso was now making its way up towards her foot. It came up and peeled off her high heel, then started scratching ruthlessly at the arch of her foot. To say that Julie screeched would be a complete understatement.

“AAAHAHAHAAHAHA NOHOHAHAHA NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EEEEE! NAHAT THEHE TOHOHOES!!” She pleaded, but to no avail. The vines continued exploring her tender tootsies, while also moving to tickle up her leg, to her knees and thighs.

While Julie was losing it, Frank was in his own predicament. His shirt had been lifted up, his hair was a mess, and his cheeks were as red as the tomatoes in his garden. The creeping plants had moved from his neck and shoulders to his tummy and sides, as well as his loser back and thighs. His laugh was squeaky and high pitch, as well as scattered with snorts and squeals of all sorts. Involuntary flinches and squirms took over his frame as the vines traversed his body. 

“PLHEHEHAHAAHA! *snort* HAHAVE MEHERCHYHYHY! NAHAHAT THEHERE, PLEHEHEASE!!” Frank wailed. The vines did not budge as he begged and writhed. All of his most tender spots being hit at once was nearly too much to bear, but these vines seemed to know just the right pressure and technique to keep him from going over the edge, which made it all the more maddening. 

Before long, both Frank and Julie were nearing a limit. Their minds were foggy with glee, and their laughs were breathy and weak. After what seemed like an eternity of skittering, wriggling, scritching, and teasing, everything stopped at once. The vines set them down ever so gently, and rubbed their tummies, feet and backs. After both of them had calmed down, the vines recoiled back into the earth. 

“Oh, goodness… Are you alright, Frankie?” Julie questioned.

“Uhm.. yes, I’m quite alright. Are you?” Frank responded. Julie sat up, then crawled over to help Frank up. They both sat together for a minute. Both of them a hot mess, with hair and clothes ruffled up, looked at each other with a knowing look. 

“Yes, I’m alright, Dearie…” Julie paused for a moment, “You liked that, didn’t you?” Julie smirked.

“Wha- I- Uhm, well… yeah…” Frank said sheepishly.

“Hah, knew it!” Julie teased, “I did too. Fun, right?”

“Pfft, yes, I suppose. You’re such a little sponge for tickles, aren’t you?” Frank teased back.

“HAH, yeah I am! I have no shame in that.” Julie Beamed.

“I can tell.” Frank Mused. He stood up, Julie following. Just as they stepped out of the forest, a butterfly landed on Frank’s nose. Both of them froze, realizing it was the same butterfly from before. 

“Frank!” Julie gasped. “Look!”

“I see it, Julie.” Frank said, calmly. 

All of their worries had been taken from them by those vines. They went home to gather themselves and restore their earlier appearances, soon after spending the rest of the day together looking at the beauty of the insects they found. Both more calm and relieved of stress than they were before. 

[chaos4real]

The Boy and The Witch

It was a day like any other. The wind sang as it passed through the trees, the birds setting the melody, the branches dancing to the rhythm. Small critters frolicked under the bushes and through the underbrush, rustling past bristling and fuzzy plants. A thin, pale hand gently pried a prickly stem from the stubborn ground. She couldn't help but cringe at the tough, dry soil, dusting a pinch of powder into the hole that once held the plant as she moved on.

Warmth spread through her hand from the black staff her fingers were wrapped around. A wicker basket hung on her opposite forearm and her tall, pointed hat blocked out the blazing sun as her eyes scanned the forest around her.

It smelled of sandalwood; a scent she followed, aware of her need to acquire it. Her feet were silent and imprint-less, hidden beneath the hem of her long black dress, only adding to her look. As she went deeper into the forest, the trees got thicker and much larger, blocking out the sun and the world along with it.

"Hey, witch!"

The woman calmly turned, her eyes finding the source of the small voice. Maybe five yards away, there was a man-made clearing. On a thick branch hung a thick piece of rope and dangling from the rope, caught around the ankles, was a child. He couldn't have been any older than eight and, judging by the clothing, he looked to be from the village nearby. His blond hair was knotted with sap and twigs, his pale skin stained with what looked like ash and mud. The only decent thing about the boy's appearance was his unusually bright blue eyes.

The witch couldn't help but recognize the passion behind those eyes, even if they were glossy and ringed with red.

She walked towards the boy, the crystal held in her staff pointing at him as her arms fell to her sides. "I'm caught in a trap," he said as if it weren't obvious, but the witch kept a straight face. "Get me down."

After a moment, she rose her staff, the orb glowing a deep green before the boy fell, stopping just short of the ground before coasting to rest gently on his back. The woman would have thought he'd have been more surprised or even angry that she'd used magic on him, but the boy only jumped to his feet after kicking the rope away.

The witch turned away, leaving the boy behind. She didn't spare him a glance as he chased after her.

"Hey, witch!" he called, a few paces behind her. "I'm not afraid of you! The Imperial Army is a hundred times scarier than you are." He huffed. "Wait up, witch, you're walking too fast."

The Imperial Army was scary indeed. She could admit that. Even considering the power she had, they were a great threat. A small smile curved her otherwise expressionless face. Without a word, the witch slowed her steps, allowing the boy to catch up.

After she'd reached her cottage, the boy had departed without saying a word. The witch didn't protest. Although, it did seem awfully quiet without him.

As the witch settled down late into the night, hanging her hat and putting away her staff, a knock came at the door. Before she had time to put down the bowl she held—which contained a crushed concoction of sorts—the door slowly opened.

She calmly turned around, only to see the boy struggling to drag in a bucket half his size through the door. He stopped just inside the doorway, wiping his forehead. He leaned on the bucket, his eyes cast down.

"My family and house were all burned to the ground. Not that it has anything to do with you, though," he said, his voice void of emotion but the witch caught the subtle tightening of his knuckles. "I picked some medical herbs for you—" he gestured to the bucket "—so is it okay if I stay with you tonight?"

The witch tilted her head as the boy rubbed his eyes a yawn distorting his next words. The witch stood up, setting down the bowl and lifting the bucket easily, and placing it in the closet, next to her staff, before pulling a couple of quilts from the drawers and laying them on the ground to create a temporary bed of sorts.

The boy's face lit up as she took her pillow and laid it on the ground with the blankets, before looking at him and gesturing to the sloppy bed.

"Thank you, witch!" he said as he leaped onto the covers, still dressed in his filthy clothing as he buried himself underneath them.

As his eyes quickly became more drowsy, she decided she'd not bother him about it.

One night morphed into a week and a week into a month, and so on. A pile of quilts on the ground turned into a mattress, which turned into a cot. The boy's hair grew, reaching his shoulders. And not only that but his height reached almost a foot above the witch's.

The boy would collect herbs for medicine and tea, and plant vegetables for the witch to guide in growing in the spring. In the winter, he chopped wood for the fire that the witch had taught him to keep alive and hunted so the witch wouldn't be forced to.

The boy was no longer a boy and the witch was no longer just a witch. He'd grown into a young man, going on eighteen this summer, and she'd somehow become a parent.

The witch wondered why he insisted on mastering the way of the sword. And the boy wondered why she never spoke.

One day—a day like any other—the witch heard the hooves thumping. She felt the warning in the soil.

Calm as ever, she set down the basket of herbs she had gathered and walked up the steps into her cottage. Her cold hand warmed as she gripped her staff gently. It wasn't long before the boy had returned, his hair sticking to his forehead and his chest heaving.

When he saw the witch, he realized the situation and hurried past her, unsheathing the sword that had been tucked underneath the floorboards.

As the boy ran outside to meet the horsemen, the witch placed her hat on her head, allowing her black hair to fall on her shoulders naturally.

She opened the door. A line of men in chainmail and helmets had advanced on the small cottage, carrying swords and shields, some even carried pitchforks and torches that blazed with fire. The witch wondered if they realized their mistake.

Standing in between the soldiers and the cottage was the boy. Even from behind, the witch knew his eyes were blazing, his sword pointed menacingly at the soldiers as they screamed for unjustified sacrifice.

"This is my home!" the boy yelled, his voice strong and unwavering. "I will not let you kill my family again, Imperial Army!"

The boy lunged forward and as blood spilled by cuts from his blade, staining the grass, the witch found out why he mastered the way of the sword. And the witch spread her arms wide and as flames erupted by words from her lips, scorching their skin, the boy found out why she never spoke.

But the witch knew what would happen. She knew the moment the sky began to weep that the boy would be left alone once again. So she poured her entire being into her last words and devasted the forest for miles, about as many miles as years they would speak about that dark day. They said the witch brainwashed the boy. They said they heard her beckoning in the night in that dead forest. They said she should have been burned, maybe then, the boy would be free of her hold. 

And the boy lost his passion, his unnatural brightness. The boy lost his light. 

But at least she made sure he no longer lived in fear. And maybe she did it so he wouldn't be bothered, or maybe she did it so he had no way to get revenge. Either way, when the castle burst up in flames and trapped the army inside, the boy couldn't help but smile because he'd been wrong. 

The witch was a hundred times scarier than the Imperial Army.

~chaos

[honeyjasper]

I used to like fairies when I was a little girl.

I used to think they were so magical.

Little tiny humans with wings, who frolicked in moss patches and mushroom rings.

I used to think that each tree had a hidden door.

Inside the trees were strings of lights and sparkles of fairy dust.

The fairy dust is what made your sorrows go away.

When used, it uplifted you. It was magical, of course.

I would run in the forests near my home, looking for them. I scattered oats to make sure they were well fed.

They brought me happiness, even if I did not truly see them.

But in my imagination, they were everywhere.

On the flowers, the branches, even on the trees that split and were on the ground.

They made friends with everyone. All the critters you can think of. From rabbits to mice, deer to skunks.

That’s why I loved fairies so much. They were gentle and kind.

Hold your pinky out, and one would plant herself onto it. Sprinkling some of that fairy dust. And if you’re lucky, she’ll stay awhile and you can get a glimpse of her personality.

I always went home with a smile. Dirt on my feet.

But I carried something with that dirt.

An extraordinary imagination.

I look back and wish I didn’t rush to grow up so fast. I had a magical childhood.

Thank you Little S 🧚‍♀️

March 5, 2023 / 5:33pm

[anarchists-reject]

A short story inspired by a Pinterest post(as shown below). If you know who the post belongs to, let me know so I can give them proper credit!

The Boy and the Witch

It was a day like any other. The wind sang as it passed through the trees, the birds setting the melody, the branches dancing to the rhythm. Small critters frolicked under the bushes and through the underbrush, rustling past bristling and fuzzy plants. A thin, pale hand gently pried a prickly stem from the stubborn ground. She couldn't help but cringe at the tough, dry soil, dusting a pinch of powder into the hole that once held the plant as she moved on.

Warmth spread through her hand from the black staff her fingers were wrapped around. A wicker basket hung on her opposite forearm and her tall, pointed hat blocked out the blazing sun as her eyes scanned the forest around her.

It smelled of sandalwood; a scent she followed, aware of her need to acquire it. Her feet were silent and imprint-less, hidden beneath the hem of her long black dress, only adding to her look. As she went deeper into the forest, the trees got thicker and much larger, blocking out the sun and the world along with it.

"Hey, witch!"

The woman calmly turned, her eyes finding the source of the small voice. Maybe five yards away, there was a man-made clearing. On a thick branch hung a thick piece of rope and dangling from the rope, caught around the ankles, was a child. He couldn't have been any older than eight and, judging by the clothing, he looked to be from the village nearby. His blond hair was knotted with sap and twigs, his pale skin stained with what looked like ash and mud. The only decent thing about the boy's appearance was his unusually bright blue eyes.

The witch couldn't help but recognize the passion behind those eyes, even if they were glossy and ringed with red.

She walked towards the boy, the crystal held in her staff pointing at him as her arms fell to her sides. "I'm caught in a trap," he said as if it weren't obvious, but the witch kept a straight face. "Get me down."

After a moment, she rose her staff, the orb glowing a deep green before the boy fell, stopping just short of the ground before coasting to rest gently on his back. The woman would have thought he'd have been more surprised or even angry that she'd used magic on him, but the boy only jumped to his feet after kicking the rope away.

The witch turned away, leaving the boy behind. She didn't spare him a glance as he chased after her.

"Hey, witch!" he called, a few paces behind her. "I'm not afraid of you! The Imperial Army is a hundred times scarier than you are." He huffed. "Wait up, witch, you're walking too fast."

The Imperial Army was scary indeed. She could admit that. Even considering the power she had, they were a great threat. A small smile curved her otherwise expressionless face. Without a word, the witch slowed her steps, allowing the boy to catch up.

After she'd reached her cottage, the boy had departed without saying a word. The witch didn't protest. Although, it did seem awfully quiet without him.

As the witch settled down late into the night, hanging her hat and putting away her staff, a knock came at the door. Before she had time to put down the bowl she held—which contained a crushed concoction of sorts—the door slowly opened.

She calmly turned around, only to see the boy struggling to drag in a bucket half his size through the door. He stopped just inside the doorway, wiping his forehead. He leaned on the bucket, his eyes cast down.

"My family and house were all burned to the ground. Not that it has anything to do with you, though," he said, his voice void of emotion but the witch caught the subtle tightening of his knuckles. "I picked some medical herbs for you—" he gestured to the bucket "—so is it okay if I stay with you tonight?"

The witch tilted her head as the boy rubbed his eyes a yawn distorting his next words. The witch stood up, setting down the bowl and lifting the bucket easily, and placing it in the closet, next to her staff, before pulling a couple of quilts from the drawers and laying them on the ground to create a temporary bed of sorts.

The boy's face lit up as she took her pillow and laid it on the ground with the blankets, before looking at him and gesturing to the sloppy bed.

"Thank you, witch!" he said as he leaped onto the covers, still dressed in his filthy clothing as he buried himself underneath them.

As his eyes quickly became more drowsy, she decided she'd not bother him about it.

One night morphed into a week and a week into a month, and so on. A pile of quilts on the ground turned into a mattress, which turned into a cot. The boy's hair grew, reaching his shoulders. And not only that but his height reached almost a foot above the witch's.

The boy would collect herbs for medicine and tea, and plant vegetables for the witch to guide in growing in the spring. In the winter, he chopped wood for the fire that the witch had taught him to keep alive and hunted so the witch wouldn't be forced to.

The boy was no longer a boy and the witch was no longer just a witch. He'd grown into a young man, going on eighteen this summer, and she'd somehow become a parent.

The witch wondered why he insisted on mastering the way of the sword. And the boy wondered why she never spoke.

One day—a day like any other—the witch heard the hooves thumping. She felt the warning in the soil.

Calm as ever, she set down the basket of herbs she had gathered and walked up the steps into her cottage. Her cold hand warmed as she gripped her staff gently. It wasn't long before the boy had returned, his hair sticking to his forehead and his chest heaving.

When he saw the witch, he realized the situation and hurried past her, unsheathing the sword that had been tucked underneath the floorboards.

As the boy ran outside to meet the horsemen, the witch placed her hat on her head, allowing her black hair to fall on her shoulders naturally.

She opened the door. A line of men in chainmail and helmets had advanced on the small cottage, carrying swords and shields, some even carried pitchforks and torches that blazed with fire. The witch wondered if they realized their mistake.

Standing in between the soldiers and the cottage was the boy. Even from behind, the witch knew his eyes were blazing, his sword pointed menacingly at the soldiers as they screamed for unjustified sacrifice.

"This is my home!" the boy yelled, his voice strong and unwavering. "I will not let you kill my family again, Imperial Army!"

The boy lunged forward and as blood spilled by cuts from his blade, staining the grass, the witch found out why he mastered the way of the sword. And the witch spread her arms wide and as flames erupted by words from her lips, scorching their skin, the boy found out why she never spoke.

But the witch knew what would happen. She knew the moment the sky began to weep that the boy would be left alone once again. So she poured her entire being into her last words and devasted the forest for miles, about as many miles as years they would speak about that dark day. They said the witch brainwashed the boy. They said they heard her beckoning in the night in that dead forest. They said she should have been burned, maybe then, the boy would be free of her hold. 

And the boy lost his passion, his unnatural brightness. The boy lost his light. 

But at least she made sure he no longer lived in fear. And maybe she did it so he wouldn't be bothered, or maybe she did it so he had no way to get revenge. Either way, when the castle burst up in flames and trapped the army inside, the boy couldn't help but smile because he'd been wrong. 

The witch was a hundred times scarier than the Imperial Army. 

This is also posted on Wattpad as The Boy and The Witch in my Short Stories book. My account is augie4realz so go check out that and plenty of my other work.

[scurvgirl]

The Dragon and the Princess Grew Close

More Fairy Tale AU!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Meanwhile, Part One

Worldbuilding

Tagging @feynites​ for characters, but won’t say who to keep it at least a little interesting ;)

After the day at the waterfall, Adannar starts taking Serahlin places.

It’s only every few days since there is work to be done for her to survive sufficiently on her own. It is a goal he supports, even if he knows that she may choose to not spend as much time with him afterwards. She deserves her independence, she’s worked for it, and he doesn’t want to forcefully spend time with her anyways. Her choice makes the time better.

He takes her to a great tree, first. The Great Tree, to be exact. An old spirit of Content possessed it a millennium ago, and it has remained here ever since, growing to a gargantuan size. An old hollowed voice rings from it, greeting Adannar in an equally old tongue. Serahlin doesn’t realize what it says is a greeting, but she marvels at it all the same. She touches its bark with respectful reverence, more polite than even some of the scholars Adannar knew hundreds of years ago.

“Content, perhaps you could show our guest your view?” He requests.

In the old tongue, Content replies, “Has she not ridden upon your back yet? Oh, you have not told her. Very well, I will show her.” A thick branch slowly lowers to in front of Serahlin.

She glances back at him for reassurance. He smiles and gestures for her to climb onto the branch. Adannar joins her, and slowly they are lifted up to another branch. Content guides them to the canopy in this manor, having them climb aboard semi-mobile branches until they sit perched atop the tree, looking out around them.

The sun is low in the sky, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange and blue. The tops of the trees all stop below Content, their leaves soft and pliant as the cool air of the afternoon swirls around them. Serahlin’s hair loosens from its tie and sways with the wind, but she does not seem to mind as she leans her head back, eyes closed, and smiling in enjoyment. It is an entrancing image of her, leaning back and enjoying the natural magic of the forest. She is entrancing.

His heart clenches. There is no beauty like hers, no heart, no person whose eyes shine so brightly when discovering something new. And there is nothing more natural for him at this point to love her, even in secret, even if she does not return the sentiment. He loves her, and he is happy to even know that. To know her.

He wants to tell her, but fear holds him back still. She isn’t ready to know quite yet. He wants her to know him before…before potentially running from him. It is selfish, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to change course.

He takes her home after the sun sets. He takes her hands in his at the door to the cottage. She is looking up at him with a soft expression that makes his heart melt and oh, how he loves her. He lifts her hands up to his lips, kissing her knuckles before wishing her a good night. He steps away but does not hear the door close, and when he turns around, he sees her watching him, her cheeks almost as pink as her eyes.

Adannar lifts his hand in the air, waving goodnight as he slips into the forest. His nocturnal creations skitter through the night, joining him as he heads back to his home.

There are other places he can take her to, like the meadow and he can even see about showing her some of the crystal caves in the mountains. He wants her to enjoy living her and to know that even though she is far from her home court and palace, she is still surrounded by beauty.

He goes through more of his storage, finding more beautiful clothing to give her. The breeches he had given her earlier were fairly basic, mostly in beiges and browns, along with white shirts. But now he finds the more colorful garments – pinks, greens, blues, even a few reds that he think she will look splendid in. He packages them in a case and the next morning presents them to her.

“Adannar! You don’t need to,” she says even as she fawns over the prettier clothes.

“Do you like them?” He asks in earnest. She looks up and smiles, then cups his face.

“I adore them, thank you.” He leans into her touch just for a moment before straightening his back.

“Wonderful!”

He means to take her to the meadow today, but there is work that needs to be done and they end up spending the day working around the cottage. The chickens need tending to, as does the garden they’ve created in the past weeks. The roof of the cottage also needs a repair, it’s been leaking, and then by the time everything’s completed, the sun is low in the sky and there is no time to take her anywhere special. But they do have enough time to cook and eat dinner together. Well, a dinner for her. Adannar will need to do some night hunting to fill up.

Serahlin lets her hair out, spilling down her shoulders, making her look like the princess he first saw in the Dreaming. But now she is smiling and happy as she eats her stew and makes conversation with him.

“In Eletharan, it is customary to have small meals throughout the day. Consuming large meals at once is seen as bad for health,” she says, even as she breaks a bread roll to sop up some stew.

“But I can’t say I have felt any different with this regimen. Sometimes I think half of the things the nobility did was simply because they could and it set them, us, apart from everyone else. How often you ate became a symbol of wealth. I would eat eight small meals a day, my sister ate ten. I knew of merchants who would stretch their food to last six meals a day.”

Adannar tries to contemplate that. He knows that she came from a world of wealth and excess, but this seemed…much. He knows that her meals were made for her, judging by how she has not exactly been that great in the kitchen. He is not judging her for any of it, of course, she was born into this and she did what she could to survive the environment.

“The company was horrid most of the time,” she says, “All these people just…watching, waiting for me to be imperfect.” Her eyes move down to her food and his brow furrows in concern.

“I find perfection boring, to be honest,” Adannar says, “It is fleeting, and flaws are what make people unique. There is no true beauty in perfection. I am not perfect, you are not perfect, but it does not make you lesser.”

Serahlin blinks and her lips part on a silent “oh.” She tucks her hair behind her ear in a gesture he has come to know as a sign of nervous flattery.

“I…thank you.” She speaks in the way of someone unused to compliments, but perhaps it is not the compliment that is throwing her, but the sincerity. Those at court must be so…blind, he thinks, to lack the ability to see how much Serahlin truly deserves compliments. She is kind and funny and beautiful, even if she is imperfect with her distrustful nature and stubbornness.

They finish dinner and he helps her clean up before it is time for him to leave her to her nightly routine. But before he leaves, she takes his hand.

He turns to her, heart beating, expectant.

Serahlin opens her mouth to say something then shuts it. His heart falls but she takes a step towards him and lifts her free hand to his face. She caresses his cheek and while the silence stretches before them, it feels like she is saying a thousand words, and he is replying in kind.

She pulls back after a moment and straightens her clothes. The normal Serahlin with her stoicism and pleasantries. More and more, however, that Serahlin gives way to a softer version of herself. A version of herself that smiles easily and enjoys his jokes and the simple comforts of the forest.

Adannar leaves that night with his heart in his throat and a great desire to sweep her off her feet.

It takes a few more days of completing chores, but eventually they find the day where the work can wait. On that day, Adannar guides her through a young part of the forest. Small critters scurry from their path. Serahlin holds onto Adannar’s arm as they stride through the brush and it sends little electric flares through him.

They are both dressed in flowing fabrics, her in a pink tunic and him in one of his brighter blue robes.

“It shouldn’t be too much further,” he tells her.

She smiles up at him, “Even if it was, I would not mind. I am enjoying our walk.” He returns the smile and feels his heart do a little pitter patter.

“Have I told you that you look lovely today?” He asks and she nods.

“It was one of the first things you said, but I do not tire of hearing it.” She leans into him, grinning playfully.

“Well, you look lovely still…even with the leaves in your hair,” he points out, to her playful horror.

“Oh no!” She bats at her hair and he calms her, reaching carefully and extracting the few leaves.

“There, no worse for wear.”

He steps over a root, then down a small knoll. Light filters in from where the trees end and the meadow begins. With this time of year, the meadow should be filled with wild flowers – and potentially even some frolicking spirits of the forest. He shifts their positions so that he is holding her hand, leading her through the brush. Excitement fills the air as they reach the boundary of trees.

They emerge from the forest and into the meadow. Serahlin gasps in awe, filling Adannar with a relieved sense of pride. It is a tad hilly for a meadow, but the flowers carpet it all the same, reaching up to the sun in brilliant hues of yellow, cream, pink, and blue. Spirits swirl in brilliant displays of light, shooting up fallen petals into little petal dust devils.

Adannar turns, smiling, to see Serahlin with a near devious expression on her face.

“Serahlin?”

She lets go of his hand and dashes into the meadow, “Catch me!” She calls back, running headlong into the field of flowers. Adannar laughs and does as she commands, letting himself go and feel free as he chases her.

The spirits turn their attentions to them, initial alarm turning to gleeful mischief. They are harmless and Serahlin shows no fear of them as she laughs and darts through the flowers. Adannar lets his inhibitions go as he runs after her.

**

It was a spur of the moment decision to dart off, enticing Adannar to chase her. But she had been so inspired by the beauty of the meadow. All she wanted to do was to run and feel free and happy. And this meadow is so…it is from her dreams it is so beautiful. Maybe she has seen this place in her dreams, her spirit drifting from her sleeping body, drawn to this magical place.

Now she runs through a field of flowers, past bright spirits as a former spirit chases her. His laughter, so pure and joyful, is music to her ears. It sets a rhythm to them running. She turns and laughs with him, cresting over a hill. They revel in the sunlight, and she has not felt so far and free from the court as she does now.

Serahlin spins, her eyes closing at the wonder of it all. Her arms are outstretched, palms up feeling the warmth of the sun. She used to walk the gardens at the palace, enamored with the flowers. But she had always been bedecked in fashion, a smile plastered on her face as a thousand eyes watched her every move. The fashion she loved, the eyes she wanted gone. But here, there are flowers and sun, and the only eyes are Adannar’s. And his eyes are so kind, so beautiful.

He reaches the knoll she is slowly spinning on and rounds on her. His arm slides around her waist and pulls in her close. She travels with his moment, her arms quickly wrapping around his shoulders for stability. They spin together, laughing, until he stumbles and falls back into the lush grass. She lands on top of him, hair flying free from its loose bun.

“Oof!” She says, splayed on top of him, the long grass curving over them. She can feel his chest rising and falling with his labored breaths, and the warmth radiating from his body.

Adannar leans his head back and laughs, only leaning back up to cup her face. His laughter dissipates but his face remains blissful and soft. His hands are rough from work, but she does not mind them as he brushes a thumb over her cheek.

“Serahlin, you are a wonder,” he whispers full sincerity and warmth. Her heart stutters and breath hitches. Through all this time, Adannar has seen her at her worst, broken down, dirty, ugly, and starving. He has seen her struggle with everything she has learned, and not once has he shamed her, or looked at her like she is useless or bad. He has been kind and patient, caring and thoughtful. He hasn’t babied her, but respected her and where she has come from. Not in all her life has she ever met someone like him, and she doubts there is anyone else quite like him either. There is an undeniable goodness to him, a light within him that makes her want to be better.

She shifts up his body and brushes her fingers across his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, yellow eyes growing hooded. He is beautiful, she sees. A beauty unlike those at court, natural and striking, full of softness.

Boldness and fondness in equal measure take over her. She leans down and presses her lips to his. He startles for only a second before responding. He leans into her, kissing her back, lips moving under hers. She angles her head and sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, earning her a gasp, borderline moan. It thrills and warms her both to feel his reaction to her.

His hands trail down her body, holding her waist, running up into her hair. It feels so, so good, she leans into him, arching her back. He is the first to pull away, lips pink and breath labored.

“Serahlin, I…do you…” he breathes. She isn’t sure exactly what he is asking, but she feels like she has an answer all the same. She strokes his cheek and her expression remains soft.

“You amaze me,” she murmurs before leaning down to kiss him again.

**

The days following the kisses in the field turn into a new pace. Adannar still arrives at the same time in the morning and leaves the same time at night, but he kisses her hello and goodbye. He is even more free with his affections, holding her waist, and pulling her to him. She enjoys it all, holding him and kissing him back as much as she pleases. There is no worry that they will be caught. He is not a dalliance someone at court is waiting to use to blackmail her. The result is Serahlin being free with her affections in return.

On an evening where the sunset is turning blue and purple from the magic in the sky, she turns to him.

“We have grown so close, and I feel like I am…not being entirely truthful with you,” she explains.

Adannar looks down from the sunset to her, expression curious but sweet, “How so?”

She swallows, “I never told you what I was doing in the cottage that first day you found me.”

“You were running from a political monster of some sort.”

Serahlin nods slowly, “Yes. But that is…a great over simplification.” She wrings her hands and averts her gaze. Adannar reaches over and settles his much larger hand over her nervous ones.

“You do not have to tell me,” he whispers, his tone far more understanding than she has a right to ask for.

Serahlin shakes her head, “No, I do because I left a terrible mess behind. I fear I will have to return to it at some point. I can’t always run, some day we all have to face what chases us.” She takes a deep breath, and begins.

“I was born Serahlin Felise Elethari, to Queen Felena Elethari of the kingdom Eletharan to the west of this forest. I am the eldest, and by rights, that makes me in line to succeed the throne if my mother should die. My younger sister, Elvara is also a princess, and she has been named heir apparent due to my…inability to secure diplomatic relations with the kingdom to the east, Elvhenan.” She goes slow, giving herself time to pause and assess. Adannar remains quiet, listening to her story.

“They wanted to create a tie that will unite the kingdoms in custom and spirit. Which meant an arranged marriage between me, and the High Knight family’s chosen. After visiting their court, the younger son, Dirthamen was chosen for my betrothal. It could have been worse, the eldest son spurned the idea of me, the younger son was by far better. Not a man I could fall in love with, but a man I could at least be happy with. But unfortunately, as the envoy passed through this forest, he went missing.

“With the alliance in jeopardy, a new knight was chosen from his brother’s honor guard somehow. A man greatly indebted to the family, so loyal he could never betray them. His name is Ser Darris, Slayer of Mighty Tor’el, a dragon to the east.” Adannar nodded and swallowed, his face stony and solemn.

Serahlin continued, her voice only wavering slightly, “They arrived at the palace and explained the situation. My mother foolishly allowed the switch, saying that this alliance was still the best option for the kingdom. But my former betrothed and I had been exchanging letters – in Eletharan, it is customary to know your intended for at least a year before marriage. The switch meant that Darris would have to wait a year, and in that year, we would have to spend a lot of time together.” She takes a deep breath and steadies herself.

“It only took a month before things began to become suspect. Darris is an intensely charismatic man, and he charmed my mother and sister instantly. But I was more hesitant. He was not the man I had spent the last three years getting to know. I had resigned myself to a loveless marriage, but a marriage of respect and decency nonetheless. I didn’t know Darris, and I was expected to…marry him in so little time. A year is nothing! I was reluctant, and it showed. But I was also curious – what had happened to my betrothed? His brother was still at the palace, making life difficult. He is possibly the worst person I have ever met in my life, cruel, arrogant, and stupid.”

“He sounds terrible,” Adannar says softly, his expression still inscrutable. Serahlin nods, then bites her lip.

“I never found what happened, because while I was distracted and distant, Elvara was seizing the opportunity. She went to our mother and said she would be a better candidate for marriage with Darris. She should be made heir over me. And mother agreed.” Her voice trembles and she fumbles with her hair, biting back tears.

“When I was told, I was horrified. Relieved I did not have to marry Darris, but my baby sister, she…I protected her from court, I did everything in my power to protect her, that is the only reason she was where she was, and she used that position to stab me in the back. I was distraught, I wanted to be alone. When Falon’din found me, I was in no mood to be played. He grabbed me, demanded I look at him – which I did, as I backhanded him.”

Adannar’s eyes widen, “I know that was a very dangerous thing for you to do, but I would have liked to have seen that.”

She shakes her head, unable to hold back tears any longer, “He said terrible things, hitting me back. And after my inability to play nice with Darris…he convinced my mother I would serve the alliance better as a sacrifice. And my mother…agreed.” Her voice breaks and her tears begin to flow freely as she cries. Adannar takes her into his harms.

“No, no, no, I cannot believe…what kind of mother…no,” his horror is palpable and strangely welcome. It is the horror she wanted more to feel around her, what she had expected her own mother to feel when Falon’din had suggested it, even when Elvara had suggested supplanting her.

“I was locked away and-and only loyal guards and spies came to my rescue. My queen-mother was content to let me die, my sister…my memae had long been dead, and I was alone. They stuck me on a horse, and I ran.” Her voice breaks and disappears as she succumbs to her sobs, leaning into Adannar. He holds her tight and runs his hand through her hair in comfort while whispering sweet nothings to her.

She collapses into him, and it feels right to let him lift her completely into his lap. She gives him all her sorrow and heartbreak, her terror and horror that her own family would betray her like that. She gives him her gratitude and her amazement, the burgeoning love for him she is beginning to feel.

He holds her through it all, making her feel more loved here than she ever felt back home, surrounded by people who should have cared. Memae had cared, but Memae had also died. Ironic that when she felt more alone in a palace, constantly surrounded by people, than she does in the forest with only Adannar and his strange mechanical creatures to keep her company.

She stays in his arms for a long time, even after she stops crying. Adannar is warm, and he doesn’t seem to mind simply holding her even after the main tumult of her emotions pass. Eventually, Serahlin sighs and looks up at him. She guides his face to hers and kisses him sweetly, thanking him for listening to her.

He leans his forehead against hers and sighs, his grip tightening just slightly, “You deserve love and trust,” he whispers. There is an emotion in his voice she cannot quite place, but it almost feels like heartbreak.

Adannar stays late that night, holding her in her bed, stroking her hair. It soothes her into a sweet sleep, and when she wakes, he is gone.

Serahlin goes about her normal morning routine – dressing, collecting eggs from the coop, and tidying up a bit. Normally, Adannar arrives while she is tending to the chickens, but he must be running late today. Perhaps he slept in to make up for staying so late at the cottage? Should she have told him he was welcomed to stay? Because he was, and she hates to think he endangered himself by leaving so late at night.

It’s probably nothing, she tells herself, and continues with her day. She has a breakfast of eggs and toast then heads out to tend to her garden. It is midday when she begins to worry. Was it wrong of her to tell him why she is hiding in the forest? Or that she is likely to leave at some point? Is this her doing?

It’s hard to believe that Adannar would abandon her now, after everything he has done. By that logic, she fears something has happened to him.

Concerned, Serahlin heads back inside and dresses in her thickest leather breeches and boots and dons a tunic that feels like it has an old protective enchantment on it. She pulls her hair back and under a hat before heading outside.

Huirin, the mechanical deer that likes to linger around the cottage, is sniffing around the chicken coop, its eyes darting in curiosity to the chickens and then to Serahlin.

“Huirin,” she calls. It lifts its head up, ears forward in attention.

“I need you to take me to Adannar,” she tells it. Strange enough, it bobs its head, similar to a nod and turns to walk into the forest. It looks back at her, waiting to see if she will follow. She saddles and mounts her horse, then follows Huirin into the forest.

Without Adannar by her side, the forest takes on a more sinister feeling. She feels eyes upon her, watching her every movement, like the spirits and animals of the forest know that without one of their one with her, she is fair game. But she rides tall, and follows Huirin, keeping her eye out for Adannar. He could be lying in the dirt, needing assistance. While she has gotten stronger, she is unsure if she would be able to lift him onto Velini, her horse. But she will try and she will help him in any way she can – it’s the least she can do after everything he has done for her.

It is not long until they reach his waterfall. This is the farthest into the forest she has gone, and Adannar’s words from the first night echo in her head.

“Do not go past the waterfall to the west.”

But Huirin is moving past it, and she knows that whatever is to come, she must face it with a brave face and a braver heart. Adannar may need her.

She urges Velini forward and follows Huirin deeper into the Forest.

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MAGGIE STOP-

Last frame based off of this image

From

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Here is the second Forest Frolicker!

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SILLIES!

But in all seriousness Poe would probably freak out if they saw Toullie and Simon spying on them and their date, CUZ YES THEY AND SPENCER ARE DATING!

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Who's that? Why it's Sourtail! The fourth member of the Forest Frolickers!

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Was that a Boom?!

-oh wait that was just Cardinal Bomb!

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST FOR ME! 🎉

You know what I did?

Angst

"I-I-Is this... For me..."

"thank you guys... For everything..."

★----------------------------------------------------------------------★

YAY! SOURTAIL ANGST ON MY BIRTHDAY 🎈

Alr so Sourtail, unlike me, has an asshole of a father constantly in his life. This image depicts the first time he's had cake... Ever... It wasn't his dad who gave him the cake. It was the rest of the Forest Frolickers.

Fluffy Felix made plans, Guide Moth and Spencer made the cake, Cardinal Bomb made decorations, and there are 3 OCs I haven't revealed yet (but you'll see them soon) who also helped with the party!

His and Fluffy Felix's mother is out of the picture (for now) so she isn't here to see her son grow. I have big plans to grow the lore of this little bunny.

Big...

Plans...

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YIPPEE! MORE SOURTAIL ANGST!!!

Based off of this (amazing) cover!