#the bard's tale challenge

[stinky-dragon-character-week]

Mudd week 2024

Mark your calendars for February 5th to February 11th for 1 whole week of your favorite firbolg!

Rules are simple;

No NSFW submissions

Tag all posts you want submitted with Mudd Week 2024

Drawings, fics, and videos are all welcome

No stealing or copying submissions from others

Multiple and late submissions are allowed

Have fun with it!

All submissions will be reblogged here, so everyone can see them!

Alright, now that that's out of the way, let's talk themes/prompts

There will be a total of seven prompts. You can choose either one or both of the prompts to submit. You can interpret them however you want, as long as you have fun!

Day 1 (February 5th): In the past / Not a chance

Day 2 (February 6th): "Am I real?" / "Who are you?"

Day 3 (February 7th): Ep. 71 / "I remember now."

Day 4 (February 8th): Modern AU / Canon divergence

Day 5 (February 9th): Family portrait / Childhood Memories

Day 6 (February 10th): Betrayal / "You are not my brother."

Day 7 (February 11th): Free day / AU day

[mrsthunderkin]

This was a fun little challenge to put to paper a bit of Bart's inventory items.

He's a bit of a hoarder

[the-crowbar-was-my-kryptonite]

Inktober Day 15: Dagger

Many, many years ago, when we were both very small, I used to read my sister stories before bed. And not picture books, because that would be normal. No, I used to read her (and our brother when he was interested), stories from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. My favourite, by far, was always “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” because I like happy endings. Her favourites, however, were always the sad ones. Every time I read to her, I’d be holding back tears as I recounted “The Tale of Three Brothers,” or mild disgust as I told her the story of “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart.” Now, years later, when I saw the sketch she’d done for day 15, I was immediately transported back to those moments.

For those who’ve never heard the story, “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart” is about a warlock so worried about love making him weak that he literally rips his heart out of his chest and locks it in a casket. When he overhears people judging him for not being married, he decides to find a wife, and when he shows her what he’s done, she is so shocked that she demands he puts his heart back. The story ends with him killing both himself and the maiden after his heart rejects her love. This was one of my sister’s favourite bedtime stories. She was maybe 8 at the time.

This story is meant to teach children about the dangers of locking away feelings. I do wonder though, what would have happened if the warlock hadn’t carved the maiden’s heart out of her chest. What if she, seeing the dagger, had stabbed his heart first, before he was able to put it back in his chest. Would it have darkened her own heart? Or would she have simply killed a monster and moved on with her life? What would be the lesson then?

All art by @cool_beans_jw on insta. Ramblings by her weird sister.

[barovianmist]

the brides squabbling over the new adventurers (the doordash order). dibs on the big beefy one. can we please god just eat the small runty one they OBVIOUSLY wont survive. what do you MEAN you went and killed the STRONGEST ONE ALL BY YOURSELF? YOU DIDN'T THINK TO SHARE? watching a party member get executed and SOBBING over it. strahd, are you really going to let vallaki burn? all our food???

[four-rabbits-in-a-trenchcoat]

Obligatory and quite pertinent

[fandomverseofanthony]

WE'RE CURRENTLY STUCK AT 25% AND NEED YOUR HELP! CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE KICKSTARTER AND CONSIDER BACKING OR SPREADING THE WORD TODAY!!!

Tales of Forge & Fortune is inspired by Tabletop Roleplaying Games and Cozy Games such as Dungeons & Dragons, Animal Crossing, Pathfinder, Fantasy Life, Dave the Diver, Stardew Valley and many others!

Gather your friends, or set out on your own, traversing the land in search of materials to craft countless wondrous items to sell at your shop within an ever-evolving town! Although crafting is at the heart of this game, there are still PLENTY of opportunities for roleplaying and adventure, providing a unique without ever having to worry about losing your character or progress in the process.

Immerse yourself in a world teeming with life, potentially encountering enemies and adventurers during your journeys, while also getting to know your fellow townsfolk. Participate in holidays and special events, such as the Battle of the Bards and Heart of the Forge Competition, that test your skills in creative new ways, while also ensuring that there is never a dull moment.

Every aspect of play leads to new experiences that also affect the world around you. Watch as your small town evolves into a grand city or bustling trade hub, due to your continued efforts to help out your community!

Writing and playtesting have been completed, and it’s currently in the editing phase. The Kickstarter is currently at 25% as of writing this, but I’m hoping to reach the goal before November 10th, so that I can fund the very talented artist and graphic/layout designer who are waiting to take the game to the next level!

Here is some quick, additional info about the game itself

14 Playable Lineages - with classics such as Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Goblins, and Halflings, along with original ones like Squalosone (Shark people) and Goltha (four-armed, tall and muscular people)

4 Playable Classes - Traditional, Mystical, Inventive, and Smooth

20 Crafting Related Skills with 4 ranks each, providing further bonuses - Novice, Journeyman, Adept, Mastery

34 Talents to choose from, to further customize and cater to your playstyle

200+ Items to craft, sell, and equip - with inspired crafted items being the most power in the game

Upgradeable shop and town through a combination of coin, materials, and renown

Simple d20 system broken into 3 parts: Crafting - d20 + bonuses determine quality of creations; Exploration - d20 + bonuses determine degrees of success or failure when challenged; (Optional) Combat - Opposed d20 + bonuses, letting players attack AND defend

The Quickstart for Tales of Forge & Fortune is finally here! Get a small taste of what you can expect from this Cozy Fantasy Smithing TTRPG system, and back it on Kickstarter Today!

Itch.io FREE Download

DriveThruRPG FREE Download

Kickstarter Page

[moonselune]

Hello! May I request a fic where Astarion and the reader go through a little nightly routine together, like they chat and help each other get ready for bed 🥰 Thank you!

ִ ࣪𖤐 Astarion deserves all the pampering in the world ִ ࣪𖤐

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x reader | Pampering

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

As the day wound down and the last embers of the campfire flickered in the darkness, you and Astarion retreated to the quiet comfort of your shared tent. It had become a nightly ritual—a cherished routine that allowed you both to unwind from the trials of the day and find solace in each other's presence.

Inside the tent, the air was warm and filled with the lingering scent of herbs and leather. A few soft cushions and blankets were scattered around, creating a cozy nest where you and Astarion could relax together. You settled cross-legged on one side of the tent, while Astarion gracefully reclined against a pile of cushions opposite you.

"So, how was your day?" you asked, reaching for a small pouch of herbs that served as a makeshift tea. Astarion took the offered cup gratefully, savoring the soothing warmth as he recounted the day's events—the skirmishes with bandits, the unexpected encounter with a wandering bard, and the endless banter exchanged with the party members.

You listened attentively, laughing at his witty remarks and nodding sympathetically at the challenges he faced. Astarion's voice was a melody in the quiet of the tent, weaving tales of adventure and mischief that never failed to captivate you.

Once the tea was finished, you set aside the cups and moved closer to Astarion. With a gentle touch, you began to untangle his long, silvery hair, running your fingers through the locks with practiced ease. Astarion closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as a contented sigh escaped his lips.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, "I never thought I'd find comfort in such mundane tasks."

You chuckled softly, continuing to brush his hair with careful strokes. "It's the little things that matter, my darling. Besides, I rather enjoy pampering you."

Astarion opened one eye, giving you a playful smirk. "Pampering, is it? I suppose I could get used to being spoiled by you."

With a teasing glint in your eye, you set the brush aside and reached for a small jar of moisturizing cream. Astarion watched with mild curiosity as you scooped out a dollop and began to massage it into his scalp, your fingers working in gentle circles.

"You have to take care of your hair, you know," you teased, your voice laced with mock seriousness. "Can't have it getting tangled during our next battle."

He chuckled, tilting his head to give you better access. "Of course, my love. Wouldn't want to disappoint you with unkempt locks."

Once his hair was properly cared for, Astarion returned the favor, retrieving another jar from your shared supplies and offering to massage your shoulders. The warmth of his touch eased the tension that had settled there, his skilled fingers working magic against the knots of fatigue.

As the night deepened, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You shared stories of your pasts, dreams for the future, and whispered secrets that only the darkness of night could hold. The quiet intimacy of these moments, the simple act of caring for each other, forged a bond stronger than any battle or hardship.

Eventually, when the candles burned low and the weariness of the day caught up with you both, you retreated under the covers of your shared bedroll. Astarion wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as you nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, lulling you into a peaceful slumber..

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you enjoyed it ! - Seluney x

[writingrock]

the tale of two lovers [6]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou, violence, mentions of caves

word count: 8.4k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: i've been sooo busy this week but i'm so glad i had the weekend to write this chapter out!

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Bakugou’s voice sliced through the low buzz of the forest.  He eyed you from the side as you tread lightly through the thicket.

You didn’t even look up from the map in your hands, the corners of your mouth curling into a derisive smirk. “Not at all, I’m just leading us into the middle of nowhere for fun,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you want to take over, be my guest. But I’d bet on the cartographer over the barbarian any day”

Bakugou grunted, his eyes sharpened in your direction but he said nothing more. You had a point, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew better than to challenge your expertise on navigating these treacherous woods. He learnt from the past few weeks that you were better at navigating the Veil than he would ever be. The rest of the group followed you, trusting your sense of direction after being together for weeks.

The group presses on, the forest around you growing denser with each step. The air is thick with the scent of earth and leaves, and the sounds of distant, unseen creatures create a constant, eerie background noise. The trees loomed overhead, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance in the periphery of your vision. You keep an eye on the subtle changes in the environment, looking for signs that you’re nearing the heart of the forest. It’s been quite the journey. All the way from that pub in Leford to the midst of Niniel’s Veil. A part of you can’t believe that you all have reached this point.

Hours passed as you pressed on, the terrain becoming increasingly difficult to traverse. Twisted roots threatened to trip the unwary, and thick underbrush snagged at your clothes and gear. But you led the way as you always did. Occasionally pausing to consult your map or listen to the faint whispers of the forest around you. The group was thankful to have you by their side, more than you’d ever know. 

Eventually, the light began to fade, and the group’s energy waned with it. Looks like it was time to set up camp. You searched around for a good campsite. Walking through the area with your eyes peeled for potential resting areas. Finally, you find a small clearing where the trees part enough to let in some moonlight. a good spot to make camp. When you finally suggested making camp for the night, there were no objections. The group quickly set up, grateful for a chance to rest. A small fire was lit that warmed the surroundings of your makeshift camp.

The conversation around the fire was subdued but relaxed, the group was talking lightheartedly about poor decisions they’ve made before. Kirishima laughed as he recounted the time Sero almost got his foot stuck in a bog, while Kaminari chimed in with a tale about a prank he’d tried to pull, only for it to backfire spectacularly. Even Bakugou, usually so stoic, chuckled at some of the memories, though he mostly stayed silent, watching the flames with the impassive expression he usually wore.

“It’s been a hell of a trip so far,” Kirishima says, stretching his arms above his head. A low grunt slipping past his lips as he loosens a muscle.“But I think we’re getting closer.”

“Yeah,” Mina agrees, yawning softly as she gazes at the fire. “Feels like we’ve been at this forever, but there’s definitely something different about this place. You can feel it in the air.”

“I’m eager to go home.” Sero says, stretching out and grinning. Rolling his shoulders as he feels his shoulders opening up. “But we’re making good progress, right?”

“Progress?” Kaminari quips, laying back on his pack. “I’m just glad we haven’t run into any more thorn wolves. Those things were a pain.”

Bakugou grunts in agreement, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the firelight. You can tell he’s still on edge, wary of potential dangers that could jump out in the darkness. Even in camp, he refuses to let his guard down. “We’re close,” you say, breaking your silence. “In a few days, we should reach the heart of the forest. That’s where we’ll find the artefact.”

At the mention of the artefact, the mood harboured an undercurrent of tension as everyone knew the real challenge was within grasp. The heart of the forest is elusive, and with it, the artefact they sought. 

One by one, the group members retired for the night, the fire slowly dying down as they crawled into their bedrolls. Before long, the camp was quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. The camp settles into the kind of stillness that only a deep forest can offer, the fire’s glow the only break in the darkness.

But sleep wouldn’t come to you. Time passing only seemed to amplify your restlessness. It’s not the first time, and you doubt it will be the last. There’s something about this forest that keeps your mind… busy. With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of your sleeping bag. You grab the habitual items and slip into your boots. Careful not to disturb the others, you moved away from the camp, the soft glow of the dwindling fire fading behind you as you wandered deeper into the forest. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and moss. The shadows seemed less menacing now, more like old friends keeping you company as you wandered. 

Niniel’s Veil reminds you of your father. Wherever he is.

You purse your lips at the thought, memories creeping up the edges of your mind. How long has it been since you last saw him? Ten years? Maybe more. The forest feels eerily familiar, stirring a sense of nostalgia that you can’t quite shake. The years have slipped by, but the memory of his voice, his presence, still lingers like a ghost. You lightly pinch yourself, trying to push the thoughts away as you walk through the woods. The familiar rustle of leaves underfoot and the soft whisper of the wind are usually comforting, but tonight, they only serve to amplify the gnawing sense of solitude.

You move through the woods, your footsteps light on the forest floor, but a sudden prickling at the back of your neck pulls you out of your reverie. There’s someone behind you. You can feel it, that unmistakable sense of being watched. The hairs on your arms stand on end as you subtly slide your hand to your dagger, fingers curling around the hilt. In one swift motion, you turn on your heel, the blade ready in your hand. You turn swiftly to confront your midnight stalker.

Your blade stops just short of pressing against a familiar throat. Deja Vu much? 

Bakugou stands there with that same unreadable face he wore at supper. His arms crossed over his chest like he’s just casually taking a stroll in the middle of the night. As if he wasn’t following you in the darkness of the forest. Or even that he had every right to follow you. For someone who claims not to care, he certainly has a way of showing up whenever you least expect it.

“Glad to see you’ve upgraded.” He comments referring to the blade. You cringe slightly remembering the last time with the quill.

“Still stalking me?” you ask, your voice a low, teasing drawl as you press the dagger lightly against his neck. The cool blade against the warm skin of his neck. Your pen was once positioned there. 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. His stony expression melted away, unveiling the amusement lurking underneath. He was enjoying this more than he should. “You always pull a blade on your friends, or am I just special?”

You snort, but don’t lower the dagger just yet. “Friends, huh? Last I checked, you were just tolerating me.”

“Maybe you’re just that hard to ignore,” he shoots back with a twitch in his eyebrow. 

“Careful, you almost sounded sincere for a second,” you retort, finally lowering the dagger but keeping it in hand. “So, what’s the excuse this time? Woke you up again?”

Bakugou gives you a flat look, his snarky smirk dropping. His crimson eyes bored into you as he studied you for a moment. A short moment passes and he nonchalantly replies to your question. “You were wandering off. Thought I’d make sure you weren’t getting yourself lost.”

You can’t help but audibly laugh at that. The edge of your lips tugging upwards as you teased him. “How considerate of you. I thought you trusted me to lead the way.”

“I trust you not to get us all killed,” he fires back, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting off a smirk of his own. “But I know this forest messes with people’s heads. Even yours.”

“Worried about me, Bakugou?” you poked at him, stepping a bit closer. 

His expression darkens, the usual intensity that seems to follow him everywhere. “I’m not worried. Just making sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

He falls into step beside you, the silence between you charged with the same tension that always seems to hang in the air when the two of you are alone. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s become familiar— a dynamic you’ve both fallen into without really meaning to. It seems you both are going on a midnight stroll together. Not that it surprises you anymore, it seems the only time you both take time to understand each other is in the dead of the night. So when these nightly talks happen, you embrace them. 

As you both walk, the forest gradually thins out, and the remnants of an ancient structure come into view— a ruined pagoda, half-collapsed and covered in creeping vines. Probably one of the few remaining ruins of that once powerful elvish kingdom. The sight of it makes you pause, the weight of the years heavy in the air around it. It’s a relic of a time long gone, much like the memories you’ve been trying to avoid.

Without a word, you make your way to the base of the pagoda and sit down on a stone that was once part of a grand foundation. Bakugou follows suit, dropping onto a nearby piece of rubble with a sigh, the tension of the day settling into his muscles.

The night is quiet around you, the sounds of the forest muted, as if even the creatures that dwell here know to respect the sanctity of this forgotten place. You glance at Bakugou, catching the way his eyes scan the surroundings, ever vigilant even in this moment of relative peace. For a moment, the two of you simply sit there in silence, the ruined pagoda a reminder of the past, of things lost and found. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s enough for now. Whatever lies ahead, you know this— neither of you is alone in facing it. 

“You mind telling me the significance of that artefact?” you ask. The importance behind the artefact often creeped from the corners of your mind. Wondering what could be so important for a draconic prince to venture out finding them.

Bakugou’s gaze sharpens as he fixes his stare on you, weighing whether to answer. He’s not one to give up information easily, especially about something this important. But instead of a direct answer, he counters you, “You mind telling me what’s keeping you up?” 

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his quick deflection. It seemed you weren’t the only one with questions. Still, was it that surprising that he had questions about you? You were rather secretive. “Touché.”

Silence settles between you once more, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a quiet pause, like the forest itself is holding its breath. The ruined pagoda around you is peaceful in its decay, the stones weathered but steadfast, wrapped in a blanket of moss and climbing vines. The air hums with a soft, otherworldly energy, the kind that only comes from places touched by ancient magic. Fireflies dance lazily in the air, their glow reflecting off the gentle ripples of a nearby stream. Somewhere in the distance, a lone night bird calls out, its song weaving through the trees like a lullaby.

You find yourself almost at ease in this place, this forgotten sanctuary deep in Niniel’s Veil. But the weight of the past still tugs at you, pulling you back to a time long ago.

“I mapped this forest with my father,” you begin, the words coming out quieter than you intended. You hadn’t planned on sharing this, but something about the weight of the ruined pagoda and Bakugou’s unexpected question that loosened the knot in your chest. “We spent years exploring every corner of it, documenting its secrets, its dangers. He taught me all that I knew and showed me the beauty of the Veil.”

Bakugou doesn’t interrupt, his attention focused entirely on you. To have him listen without any snark had strangely become second nature when the two of you were alone. A calmer side both of you wore when delicate conversations arose. 

“He’s been gone for ten years now,” you continue, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart. “Took on an expedition to map out areas on another continent. A big one, from what little I know. But... I haven’t heard from him since. Not a single word. And being here, I can’t help but think of him. Wonder where he is, what he’s doing. If he’s even still alive.”

Bakugou’s expression softens slightly, though he tries to hide it. He shifts, leaning back against the cool stone of the pagoda, the hard lines of his face catching the flickering light of the fireflies. “Must’ve been a hell of a trip if he’s been gone that long.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, your eyes distant as you stare into the darkness beyond the pagoda. “It’s meant to be the opportunity of a lifetime. But a part of me... part of me wonders if it was worth it. If he’s still out there, somewhere, lost in the maps he was always so obsessed with.”

Bakugou grunts softly, a sound that could be agreement or just acknowledgment. He doesn’t offer empty reassurances, doesn’t try to comfort you with false hope. Instead, he just sits there, his presence a solid, grounding force in the uncertainty that’s been gnawing at you for years.

After a moment, Bakugou’s voice cuts through the night, softer than usual. “You know, this artefact we’re after… it’s not just any old trinket. It’s part of something much bigger.” His eyes aimed down at the ground, focusing on the ground as he spoke. Perhaps finding it easier to speak with something dull and mundane to look at. 

“It’s tied to my bloodline,” he continues. The timbre of his voice carries the weight of years of effort and loss. “A draconic artefact that’s been lost for centuries. It was once a symbol of immense power, something my ancestors wielded. The artefact has been broken into six pieces, and together, they unlock the planetarium— a place of ancient knowledge. It belonged to former kings, used for consulting on arcana and astral matters.”

He pauses, the dancing light of the fireflies casting a gentle glow on his face, revealing a glimpse of the resolve etched into his features. “During my grandfather’s reign, a traitorous enchanter within the kingdom shattered that legacy. Stole the artefact and scattered its pieces across the continent. My goal is simple: find all the pieces, reassemble them, and restore what was lost.”

You listen intently, feeling the gravity of his words. “And how many pieces have you found so far?”

Bakugou’s expression tightens slightly, but there’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’ve got two of the six. The first one was hidden deep within a volcano, guarded by a fire-breathing serpent. The second was buried beneath the icy ruins of an ancient temple, frozen in time. Each piece has been a challenge, a trial that tested my strength, resolve and wit. And each victory has only made me realise how much further I still have to go.”

He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the road ahead. “The remaining four are still out there, scattered in lands both known and unknown. It’s a daunting task, but one I’m determined to see through. For my ancestors. For my legacy.”

You absorb his words, the enormity of his quest sinking in. It’s clear this isn’t just a mission for him; it’s a personal journey, bound by family, honour, and a deep-seated drive to restore what was taken. There was something raw in the way he spoke, a fierce determination that you hadn’t fully understood until now. Every step he took, every battle fought, was connected to this deeper purpose. You could see it in his eyes: the frustration, the unspoken weight he carried, the sense that failure wasn’t an option for him. 

“You’ve come a long way,” you say quietly, your own sense of purpose aligning with his. “And you’re closer to finding them than ever.”

Bakugou nods, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through his body language and softened expression. “Yeah, I guess so. But there’s still a long way to go. And it’s not getting any easier.”

“I refuse to take my throne without finding all the relics,” Bakugou declared, his voice firm and unwavering, each word burned with defiance. His eyes flared with a fierce sense of purpose, a fire that spoke of his relentless ambition and the heavy weight of his unfulfilled duty. There was no room for compromise in his stance; every muscle in his body was tense, coiled with the resolve of someone who would not bend until his quest was complete. 

The conversation settles into a comfortable silence, the fireflies swirling around you as the night deepens. The shared understanding of the stakes and the personal history behind the quest lingers in the air, binding your journeys together in a way you hadn’t expected. The ruined pagoda, surrounded by the peaceful hum of the enchanted forest, becomes a haven of sorts: a place where the weight of the past and the promise of the future can be briefly shared and understood. You pull out your sketchbook, the soft rustle of pages mixing with the ambient sounds of the forest. With a hum, you start sketching the scene around you— the crumbling beauty of the pagoda, the ethereal glow of the fireflies. Your quill moves fluidly across the paper, capturing the serene landscape.

After a while, your focus shifted to Bakugou. You began sketching him as he leaned casually against the ruined structure, his posture relaxed for once. His scimitar caught the moonlight, gleaming as he methodically sharpened the blade with an almost meditative concentration, the rhythmic scraping a quiet counterpoint to the forest’s night sounds. Bakugou always sharpened his weapons during these nightly encounters. Tending to them with such care and responsibility. 

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou’s attention drifted from the shadowy woods to your sketching. He leaned in slightly, wondering what the cartographer next to him was up to. He catches sight of the drawing taking shape on your page.

“What are you doing?” he grunted, raising a brow at your sketch. Bakugou peered down at the page as your quill scratched against the page.

You glanced up, a low hum leaving your lips as you focused on the drawing. “Just capturing the scenery. And you.”

Bakugou’s expression quickly shifted to a sardonic grin. You could tell that he was going to start some banter. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think I look better in person.”

You chuckled, keeping your attention to the sketch. “This is pretty realistic, actually. Maybe you’re not as good-looking as you think.”

He gave a short, dry laugh as he mused at your answer. “Is that so? I’ve seen decent drawings before, but this one… not exactly doing me justice.”

You shrugged, your playful tone unwavering. “Maybe I’m just capturing your essence— you know, that rugged warrior vibe.”

He snorted, the smirk never leaving his face. “Essence, huh? Is that what you call it when you can’t draw a good likeness?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you added a few finishing touches. “I’d call it an improvement. But if you want a portrait that really captures your dashing good looks, you’ll have to sit still a bit longer.”

Bakugou huffed with a reluctant smile he tried to hide. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to pose like some pretty boy.”

Bakugou remains silent as he watches you work. The quiet between you, filled with the soft sounds of the night and the buzz of the fireflies. No comments or insults, he’s simply observing you drag the quill over the paper. You continue sketching, letting him watch as long as he wants. The fireflies continue their waltz, illuminating your work, and the serenity of the ruined pagoda envelops you both.

As you finish the sketch, you set the feathered pen down and look at Bakugou with a satisfied nod. “There. Not too shabby, huh?”

Bakugou leans in to examine the sketch, his eyes scanning the details. He grunts with the tiniest hint of approval in his voice. “Yeah, yeah. Not bad. For a cartographer who thinks they’re an artist.”

You let out an amused laugh, giving him a smile at his little jab. “Glad to know I’m meeting your high standards.”

Bakugou smirks, a rare, unguarded smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just don’t expect me to start posing for you every night.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve had my fill of you.” You give him a short retort. 

With that, he stands, brushing off the dust from his pants and stretching out. “Let’s head back. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

You tuck your sketchbook away and follow Bakugou as he strides back toward the camp, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The forest is calm, with its usual noises providing a soothing backdrop as you navigate the underbrush. As you near the camp, the flickering firelight becomes visible through the trees, like a lighthouse bringing weary sailors home. The others are already settled in, their slow, steady breathing a quiet reminder of the day’s exhaustion. You find your spot near the fire and slip into your sleeping bag with a tired sigh, the warmth of the flames chasing away the lingering chill.

Bakugou settles down close by, his silhouette outlined by the dancing firelight. He gives you a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment, before lying back against the ground. His usual brusqueness seems softened, worn down by the day’s trials and the conversation that unfolded parts of vulnerability from both sides.

“Get some sleep,” he says, trying to maintain the roughness in his inflection. Though he attempts to sound firm, a quiet gentleness slips through.  “We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

You nod, pulling your blanket up and closing your eyes. The gentle crackling of the fire and the rhythmic sounds of the forest lull you toward sleep. Bakugou’s presence, though not overtly comforting, adds a sense of security to the night. As you lie in your own spot, your mind is still buzzing from the unexpected connection with Bakugou. The night wraps around you as you settle into your bedroll, the fire’s warmth fading as you drift into a well-deserved rest. As you drift off, the echoes of your conversation and the warmth of the campfire provide a brief respite from the challenges that lie ahead.

The forest continues its quiet watch, the promise of tomorrow hanging in the air as you and Bakugou, along with the rest of the group, prepare for the challenges that lie ahead.

Back at the tavern, the bard and Bakugou are still by that table near the hearth, the crackling fire adding to the comfortable ambiance. The tavern’s hum of conversation and clinking mugs creates a backdrop of casual revelry, somehow making it easier for the hardened dragonborn to tell his tale. The bard, with a sly grin, opens his mouth to interrupt Bakugou with a curious question.

“So,” the bard begins, his tone light, being cautious of the barbarian’s temperament. “Do you ever think back to that night at the ruined pagoda? You know, when you and the cartographer were having that... tête-à-tête?”

Bakugou’s eyelids lowered subtly, his gaze focused on the flames as if searching for an answer in their swirling glow. He takes a slow sip from his mug, the firelight reflecting off its surface. “Why do you ask? You got some kind of angle here, or are you just nosy?”

The bard chuckled, shaking his head and holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No angle. Just curious. It seemed like that night... you both opened up a little more. I don’t know, it felt different from how you told it.”

Bakugou huffed, setting his mug down with a solid thunk that reverberated through the tavern. The fire cracked in the silence that followed, as though filling the space his words had yet to occupy. He glances at the bard with a stern expression for a moment before he looks back at the fire. “I think it was that night I realised she’s... different from what I initially assumed.”

The bard leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “Different, how?”

Bakugou’s voice lowered, taking on a contemplative mood. “I mentioned this before but I thought she’d be just another talker, someone to tell us which way to go and stay out of the real work. She’s proven herself... despite how stubborn she is, she does keep up with us. Knows what she’s doing in these cursed woods better than most of us would’ve figured out. But when she talked, there seemed to be more going on behind her words. Like she was hiding something, or maybe just... not ready to show it yet.”

The bard nodded thoughtfully, letting the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “You thought she was hiding something about the journey? Or something about herself?”

Bakugou frowned slightly, nose scrunched as he thought back to the past. Sitting back in that pagoda with you. Remembering back to his thoughts regarding you at the point in the journey. “I don’t know. At that point in time, probably both. She had this way of acting like she’s got it all together, like she’s already figured everything out. But when you’re around her long enough, you can see that there’s something else she’s not letting on.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s smart. Smarter than she lets on. But there was a distance. Like she was holding herself back from us, from... I don’t know, from fully trusting this group. Hell, I thought maybe that’s just how she is, keeping everyone at arm’s length.”

The bard strummed his lute idly, a quiet, thoughtful sound filling the space between them. “Sounds like you’ve got more respect for her than you’re letting on, too.”

Bakugou grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Respect’s not something I just hand out. It’s more than that, though. She’s a pain, sure, but she’s earned it at that point of the journey.”

The bard leaned back, tapping his lute lightly. “Did you never push her for details back then? Seemed like there was some unspoken stuff between you two.”

Bakugou shot him a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “I talked enough. And besides, she does eventually reveal more of herself… it just took time.”

The bard chuckled again, but there was something softer in his tone. “Maybe. But back then weren’t you cautious? I figured you’d press her for more details.”

Bakugou was quiet for a moment, the only sound between them the crackle of the fire. His fingers drummed lightly against the mug in his hand, his thoughts clearly weighing on him. “She had her reasons. We all do. I wasn’t there to pry into her life.” He pauses and continues, “Besides, she’s just part of the team. She just needed to get the job done.”

The bard tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at Bakugou’s attempt to dismiss it all. “Just part of the team, huh? Doesn’t sound like that’s the whole story.”

Bakugou’s grip on the mug tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. The bard waited, sensing there was more, but careful not to push too hard. After a long silence, Bakugou exhaled sharply. The barbarian grunts, not entirely disagreeing but unwilling to admit it. “Yeah, well, just… just shut up and listen okay? My patience is thin enough.”

“Alright, so what happened next?”

What happened next was a tale no one could have predicted. During one of your treks through the dense forest, the first sign of trouble came without warning: a trap so cleverly concealed that none of you had a chance to react. Not even you. The ground beneath your feet gave way in an instant, collapsing into a gaping void that swallowed the entire team in a heart-stopping plunge. As the earth groaned and split, panic erupted. Dirt and roots clawed at the air as you were pulled into the darkness, the ground crumbling beneath you like brittle paper. 

Sero’s voice cut through the chaos, a sharp, panicked cry. “We’re falling! We’re falling!”

Kirishima’s attempts to keep calm came out ragged and strained, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind and debris. “Hold on to something! We need to—”

But there was no time. The earth gave way completely, and you were all swallowed by the chasm, the ground vanishing beneath your feet in a dizzying cascade of dust and stone. The fall felt endless, the cold rush of air whipping past as their screams echoed in the cavernous space. Everything blurred— screams, the clatter of rocks, the rush of wind— and then, slam. With a brutal, bone-jarring thump, you landed in a sprawling underground cave system. Dust billowed around you, the remnants of your descent settling like a suffocating shroud.

The silence that followed was thick with shock, only broken by the muffled groans and disoriented murmurs of your fellow companion as they slowly pieced together what had happened. From the voices alone, you could tell there was only one other person with you. Shit. Were you all really separated? Pain and confusion hung in the air, mingling with the dust.

You and Bakugou had landed together, thrown into a darker corner of the cavern. The impact rattled through your bones, leaving you gasping for breath, but the injuries were thankfully manageable. Nothing your healing hands couldn’t fix. Wincing, you pushed yourself up, taking in your surroundings with a wary eye. The stone walls loomed around you, jagged and ancient, illuminated only by faint clusters of bioluminescent fungi that cast an eerie, ghostly glow. The air was damp and cold, the silence almost suffocating, and for a moment, all you could do was catch your breath and take in the unsettling beauty of the cavern that had become your prison.

Bakugou rubbed his shoulder, wincing slightly as he glared at the uneven ground beneath his feet. “Well, this is just perfect. Exactly what we needed,” he muttered, his words drenched with sarcasm.

You shook your head, brushing the dirt and debris from your clothes. “Yeah, falling into a cave system wasn’t exactly on my to-do list. We need to find the others.”

“Karshoj, I thought you were an expert on these shitty woods!” Bakugou cursed, his voice smouldering with frustration as he kicked a nearby rock, sending it skittering across the ground. His fiery eyes locked onto you, anger practically radiating from him. 

You grimaced, feeling the weight of his anger, but kept your cool. “I am an expert, Bakugou. But these traps are buried deep with ancient magic, and the Veil’s always shifting.”

He gives you a harsh scowl. Clearly peeved at the situation that they’re all in. “Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be the one catching this crap before it happens. Now look at us— stuck in this shitshow because you missed it.”

You clenched your fists, trying not to let his words sting too much. A part of you felt guilty, but you understood how treacherous these woods could be. From the start, you knew navigating the Veil was never going to be smooth sailing. “I didn’t miss it on purpose, okay? These traps are layered with old magic, designed to mess with your senses. I can’t catch everything before it happens.”

Bakugou snorted at you, glaring. What a weak excuse coming from you. “Yeah, well, tell that to the pit we just fell into. We’re waist-deep in this crap now, and I’d rather not spend the night here.”

You threw him a sharp look, your frustration meshed with guilt simmering under your skin. “You think I’m happy about this? I’m doing the best I can, Bakugou. These traps are ancient— I’m not a miracle worker.”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, clearly agitated but not entirely unreasonable. In all fairness, this was the first mistake you’ve really made throughout this trip. He’s still pissed at the predicament they are in but knows that nothing good will come out from continuing to argue with you. “Fine. I get it, but we can’t afford to screw up like this again.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging slightly. “I know. I’m trying, alright? But this place is meant to catch us off guard. We’ll get out of this, we just need to stay sharp.”

Bakugou’s glare eased into a glance, his eyes sharp and calculating. In his mind, already trying to analyse the cave and figure a way out. “Any idea where we are? Don’t suppose you mapped this out too?”

You gave him a wry smile, adjusting your pack. “Didn’t quite anticipate falling into a sinkhole today. But I can try to get us oriented.”

He nodded, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable. “I’ll check this side. You take the other. Yell if you find anything or hear the others.”

You met his gaze, steady and determined. “Got it. And try not to get yourself killed, alright? I’d rather not have to drag your ass out of here.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but grin at your words, his usual bravado creeping back. “I’ll be fine. You just worry about not falling into any more traps, genius.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite the grim situation. “Besides this one occasion, I’ve got a pretty good track record for avoiding those, unlike someone.”

He rolled his eyes but the faint hint of a smile lingered. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see if you can keep it up. Stay sharp.”

With that, you both turned and headed in opposite directions, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls as you began your search. The cavern was cool and damp, the musty scent of earth hanging heavy in the air, and every few moments the quiet was broken by the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. Determined to find the others and escape this underground maze, you pressed on, guided only by the dim, ghostly glow of bioluminescent fungi that clung to the jagged walls.

But the deeper you ventured, the more disorienting the twisting passages became. Hours seemed to slip away as you combed through dead ends and winding corridors, your hope of reuniting with your team slowly fading. After what felt like an eternity of fruitless searching, you stumbled back into Bakugou, his expression as frustrated as your own.

He let out a deep, exasperated sigh. “Figures. This place is a damn maze.”

You let out a groan, feeling hopeless from the lack of result. This was going terribly. And to think they were getting closer to the heart of Niniel’s Veil. “Splitting up didn’t work. We’re better off sticking together. No sense in getting lost twice.”

Bakugou grunted his agreement. “Yeah, and maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find some sign of the others. Or at least a way out of this hellhole.”

Side by side, you resumed your search, moving cautiously through the narrow tunnels. The darkness pressed in from all sides, suffocating and heavy, but you pushed forward, driven by the need to find your friends and escape this unexpected trap. The only sounds were your footsteps and the distant drip of water echoing through the cave. Every so often, you called out, your voices carrying through the cavern, hoping desperately that your scattered comrades would hear you and respond. 

Despite the oppressive weight of the underground, you both moved with purpose, unwilling to let the labyrinthine passages of the cavern break your resolve. The sense of urgency drives you both forward, each of you focused on finding the others and ensuring everyone’s safety.

“I hope they aren’t hurt,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes scanning the dark cave walls, searching desperately for any sign of your missing companions.

Bakugou walked beside you, his footsteps echoing off the stone. He glanced your way, his facial features hardened. “They’ll be fine,” he said, his voice gruff yet reassuring. Hidden in his words, you could hear a whisper of worry. “They’re tougher than they look. Besides, we’ve been through worse.”

You wanted to trust those words, to let them ease your mind, but the worry gnawed at you. You were all in uncharted territory, a network of unmarked caves with no sense of direction or certainty. The unknown weighed heavily on you, and despite your best efforts, concern for the others crept back in. You had no idea what had become of them, and that thought alone was enough to keep your worry alive.

After what felt like endless hours of navigating through the caves, you paused to catch your breath, leaning against the cold, craggy wall. “You think we’re getting any closer to finding them?” you asked, your voice bewildered, tinged with both exhaustion and a slight teaspoon of hope.

Bakugou was silent for a moment, his usual bravado dimmed by the weight of the situation. There was contemplation on his face as he stared down the darkened tunnel ahead. “We’d better be. I’m not exactly thrilled about spending the night in this damn cave.”

You exchanged a determined look. Neither of you were going to give up. There was no room for doubt now. You both had to find everyone and get out, no matter what. Only the shared resolve that kept you both pushing forward through the exhaustion. With a nod, you continued the search, every step guided by the unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t stop until you were reunited with the rest of the team and until you found a way out of this cursed shithole of the cave system.

Despite your best efforts, every twist and turn in the labyrinthine cave only led to more darkness and mounting frustration. Hours of searching yielded no sign of your comrades, and with each misstep, the walls seemed to close in a little tighter. The cold began to seep into your bones, clawing at your resolve, while exhaustion made each step feel heavier than the last. Weary and defeated, you and Bakugou were finally forced to accept the inevitable: rest was unavoidable, whether you liked it or not. Will power could only do so much.

You found a small alcove where the ground was slightly less jagged, and the two of you settled down, backs against the frigid stony walls. The cold… the cold was a relentless adversary of its own. It seeped through every layer of clothing, gnawing at your skin and making it impossible to get comfortable. You started to shiver, your body trembling uncontrollably as the chill took hold, sinking deeper with every passing minute. 

You glanced at Bakugou. For all his toughness, even he couldn’t mask the toll the chill was taking. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, this time to retain warmth. His breath misted in the icy air, and his usual straight face is decorated with discomfort.

You glanced around the cave, your eyes scanning the dim, shadowed corners for any sign of dry wood or leaves. But there was nothing—no fallen branches, no kindling, nothing remotely useful to start a fire. The biting air clung to your skin, chilling you to the bone. Frustration gnawed at you as you cursed under your breath, trying to figure out how the hell you were supposed to make a fire with nothing but cold, damp stone surrounding you.

“How the hell are we supposed to start a fire in this place?” you muttered, your breath forming a cloud in front of you as it hit the frigid air.

Bakugou sat across from you, his jaw clenched as he tried to brave the cold in his own stubborn way. He hadn’t said much since you’d taken shelter in the cavity of the caves, his usual sharp tongue silenced by the freezing temperatures. You peeked over at him, watching as he shifted uncomfortably, clearly just as irritated by the situation as you were.

“Tch,” Bakugou grumbled, cursing the damned gods and forest that put him in this situation. “This cave’s like the arctic tundras.”

You nodded, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself in a feeble attempt to ward off the freezing temperature. “There’s nothing dry here to burn. We might be stuck like this all night.”

Bakugou scowled, his hands tightening into fists. His head snapped harshly to you. “You saying we’re just gonna sit here and freeze?”

“Well, unless you’ve got some firewood stashed somewhere, I don’t see many options,” you replied, teeth chattering as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

Bakugou shot you a glare, clearly not thrilled with the situation. He looked down at the ground as he let out a couple of curses. “We need heat.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, shivering as a gust of wind howled outside the cave, sending a draft through the small entrance. There’s a pause before a sudden idea hits you. But you don’t exactly like it.

“You know,” you ventured, voice strained. Were you really going to suggest this? And to Bakugou out of everyone? Yes, you were. “We could get closer for warmth. It’d help us get through the night without turning into ice.”

Bakugou turned to you, incredulity painted all over his face. Did he hear that correctly or did he need to get his ears checked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your composure as another shiver wracked your frame. “I’m just saying— it’s freezing, and we’re stuck down here. It’s a practical solution.”

He glared at you, his stubbornness flaring like a dying ember. “Hah? I’m not cuddling with you, dumbass. I’ll manage on my own.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated at his word choice. You were not cuddling with this bone head. At most, you just wanted to sit next to him. But of course he jumps into the furthest thing and worsens the visual. “Do you have to call it cuddling? I just suggested we sit next to each other.” You let out a sigh as the cool air nipped at your skin, “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But unless you’ve got a secret stash of blankets or firewood somewhere, we’re going to freeze.”

Bakugou’s scowl deepened, his pride flaring up like a flame refusing to be snuffed out. What you would give to have a stubborn flame instead of his pride right now. “Tch, I’ve dealt with worse. I’m not that desperate,” he grumbled, though his breath came out in visible puffs of mist, betraying just how much the cold was getting to him.

You rolled your eyes, hugging your knees closer to your chest in a futile attempt to conserve warmth.“Suit yourself. But if we freeze overnight, don’t say I didn’t offer.” You settled back against the wall, doing your best to ignore the biting cold. The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing through the cave. 

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath, too low to catch but clearly full of his usual disdain. Yet, as the cold tightened its grip, you saw the moment his resolve faltered. And before you knew it, Bakugou suddenly stood, his eyes narrowing with disbelief that he was actually considering this.

“Move over,” he barked, stepping toward the spot where you sat huddled on the cold stone floor.

You blinked, confused but too cold to argue as you scooted over. “What are you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bakugou crouched down beside you, his palms outstretched. With a grudging sigh, he scooted closer, just enough to share a fraction of his warmth without acknowledging it outright. A faint glow began to gather around his hands, and a moment later, a small flame sparked to life, hovering just above his palms. The warmth was immediate, the heat radiating outward and cutting through the chill in the air.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t even thought about using Fireball for temporary heat. It wasn’t exactly a practical solution in most cases. After all, the spell would only last as long as the caster was awake and actively controlling it, meaning it couldn’t be sustained through the night. But right now, it would be enough. The warmth radiating from Bakugou’s hands was a welcome reprieve from the bitter cold that had seeped into your bones.

For now, it was better than nothing.

You glanced over at him, watching the way his fire flickered and danced in his palms, the light casting warm shadows across the cave walls. The heat was steady, intense enough to keep the cold at bay, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, soaking in the warmth. The sight of the fire reminded you back when you taught him simple cantrips. When he revealed that he had a grasp on certain fire magic and threatened to throw a fireball— just like the one in his hand— at you. You both have definitely grown from when you first met. You didn’t mention it, but being close to Bakugou also provided some kind of warmth— though you weren’t sure if that was the fire or just the fact that you’re proud to have bridged an understanding with him. Something you thought couldn’t be accomplished from the moment you met him. It’s rough but you both have gotten far. 

It was a strange kind of comfort. Bakugou wasn’t known for being soft or particularly comforting, but in moments like these and those nightly encounters, when his actions spoke louder than his sharp words, you could see a side of him that wasn’t just explosive anger or constant irritation. 

You sat there, feeling the heat from the fire and from Bakugou’s body radiating beside you. The air was still cold, the cave draughty and dark, but the warmth between the two of you was enough to make it bearable. Even if he didn’t say anything, he wasn’t going to let the cold get to either of you tonight.

“If you tell anyone about this…” he growled, leaving the threat hanging.

You smiled softly, knowing you’d won this small battle. “Not a word,” you promised.

“Whatever,” he muttered, eyes fixed firmly ahead as if looking at you would make it worse. “But if you so much as breathe weird, I’m tossing you out.”

You give a nod to his words, hiding an amused smile. “Noted. Just try not to hog all the heat.”

Reluctantly, Bakugou inched closer, his body warmth a stark contrast to the glacial stone behind you. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than freezing. The two of you settled in, the proximity awkward at first, but slowly becoming more natural as exhaustion overpowered any discomfort.

“You better not fall asleep,” Bakugou mumbled, the intensity in his voice dulled this time from fatigue. “If you do, I’m not holding this all night.”

You smirked, glancing sideways at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on it. But I’ve gotta admit, this is... a pretty good idea.”

“Of course it is,” he muttered, eyes focused on the fire. “I don’t just blow things up. I know how to control it.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you teased lightly, feeling bold despite the situation.

Bakugou shot you a glare, but there was something almost playful in his eyes. He didn’t mind your jokes but he wouldn't let you know that. “I can extinguish this flame you know.”

You laughed warily, feeling the steady warmth from both the fire and Bakugou beside you. The bitter cold that had seemed so overwhelming earlier now felt distant, like a challenge you had already beaten. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The fire flickered softly, and the cold, while still present, no longer felt so suffocating. 

“Well,” you said quietly, “at least if the fire goes out, I won’t freeze right away. Sitting next to you is like being next to a furnace.”

Bakugou huffed, though you caught the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Just stay awake, idiot.”

The two of you eventually shifted closer, until your shoulders brushed against each other. It wasn’t much, but it was enough— a small concession neither of you would openly acknowledge. Neither of you was willing to close the distance any further, but the slight warmth from that small point of contact was more than enough. It was just enough to take the edge off the cold, and for now, that was all either of you needed.

The awkwardness between you eased as the shared warmth did its work, taking the edge off the biting cold. It still wasn’t comfortable, and it certainly wasn’t something either of you would talk about later. God forbid you bring this up later. But in the quiet of the cave, with the dark pressing in from all sides, the moment felt… strangely fine. 

The crackling of Bakugou’s controlled flame filled the air as the two of you remained side by side. Sleep tugged at the edges of your mind, but you both stubbornly resisted. Neither of you wanted to be the first to let go of the moment, the quiet strength shared between you. Despite your shared resolve to stay alert, the weight of fatigue pulled at you, making it harder to keep your eyes open. Eventually, exhaustion began to win out.

“Just until morning,” Bakugou muttered, silently agreeing that you both ought to get some shut eye. The flame started to stutter as he struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“Just until morning,” you echoed, thankful that you both reached the conclusion to get some sleep. You closed your eyes as you finally allowed sleep to take you. 

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a/n: honestly a part of me was tempted to make him throw the fireball at the reader for fun. @chocogoldie @devils-adversary @l0kisbitch @miikii0 @onlyisaa @sleepisfortheweakpooh @helena-way07 @enzstr

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[dragonstoners]

𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖓𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 | 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

18+ | Minors DO NOT INTERACT | Ageless blogs will be blocked

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: aemond targaryen x reader

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: canon-typical misogyny, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships

𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: f!reader, noble!reader, obsessive!aemond, toxic!aemond

⁃ it starts off strange, naturally. aemond’s way of showing interest is like a game of cyvasse, where you don’t know you’re playing until you’re losing.

⁃ he begins by throwing words like daggers, seeing which ones will stick, as well as which ones will miss. “courtesy is often the cloak of deceit,” he says one day as you pass by, eyes sharp, challenging you to disagree. you’re left pondering his intentions, unsure if this is disdain or a warning. you're not even sure he knows your name, but he's got his eye on you, that much is clear.

⁃ all of his tests are subtle at first, almost imperceptible… at least to everyone else. during a meeting including your house, he undercuts your suggestions with a smirk, “is that the best wisdom we can muster?” making you doubt your voice, your place. yet, when others join in the critique, his dissent stops, a silent barrier against the tide.

⁃ he starts to frequent areas of the red keep you're known to visit, under the guise of random meanderings or pressing royal duties. his presence is always pronounced, a storm cloud in a serene sky, yet he never directly acknowledges you unless absolutely necessary. when he does speak to you, his words are a mix of backhanded compliments and critiques designed to unsettle, to pull your attention and push you away all at once.

⁃ he tests the waters with questions that cut close to bone, speaking in riddles of his kin and house, gauging your reaction below a veneer of idle curiosity. "and what do you say of the whispers about my brother?" he asks, his gaze sharp, searching, every one of your words and expressions a stone in the foundation of this game he’s you’re both playing.

⁃ he’s watching, always, from the corners of rooms, from across courtyards, his gaze a heavy thing. you start to feel it, the weight of his attention, in every place you go. “you seem to find yourself in my path quite often,” he remarks, a statement that makes it seem less like coincidence and more like an invisible thread pulling you into his orbit.

⁃ at a court event, a bard mishandles a tale of your house’s valour, rendering it comically rather than heroic. while others laugh, aemond's eyes find yours across the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. later, you hear the bard has been given a generous sum to leave king's landing — and the realization that aemond might have been defending your honour, in his own convoluted way, leaves you bewildered.

⁃ only next, he's once again all about putting you in the spotlight for the wrong reasons. during a dinner, he casually asks if you truly believe in the tales of old valyria, making your opinion sound naive in front of everyone. it's like he enjoys seeing you squirm, but when you catch his gaze, there’s something else there, maybe respect?

⁃ after a particularly sharp exchange, you wander the quieter halls of the red keep, mulling over aemond’s pointed remarks. “is loyalty not our greatest virtue?” had left his lips with a smirk. his words had a sting, intended for you in a room full of eyes and whispers. it wasn’t just the comment but the public questioning of your loyalty that left a bitter taste. it’s the solitude afterwards that weighs heavily, making you question where the line between loyalty and a noose truly lies.

⁃ then, when you're about ready to write him off as a typical targaryen prince, toying with you for amusement and not much different from his elder brother, small things begin to happen. a finely-made bone comb appears amongst your things, no note, nothing to indicate it’s origins. it's truly beautiful, haunting almost. none of your household maids know where it has come from. you do not think about it again, until your maid casually notes the comb is in fact made of dragon-bone whilst she brushes out your hair one evening, and your heart drops.

⁃ when news reaches you of a lord questioning your place at court behind your back, nothing comes of it. no confrontation, no public defence. however, the lord's aspirations wither as if touched by frost; his allies turn away, his influence ebbs, and he is left to the cold mercy of court politics. you never explicitly see aemond act, but the timing is enough for you to know he is responsible.

⁃ the cloak follows, materialising on a chilly evening, draped over your chair, with no explanation. the craftsmanship is impeccable, finer than anything you’ve ever owned. it’s the colours that give him away – shimmering greenish blue with bronze detailing adorning the hood, unmistakably the colours of vhagar, etched into your memory from watching in wonder as aemond took her to the skies above the keep. when he sees you wrapped in the cloak, his smirk is a tell. "gevie," he mumbles, almost begrudgingly, before he’s speaking with a nearby lord as if you do not exist. (later, you discover he had said beautiful in high valyrian, after hours upon hours of scouring language books in the library.)

⁃ when you confront him about it later, his only response is a cryptic, “it suits you,” his eye glinting with something like satisfaction. the ambiguity of the comb was one thing, but the cloak is a statement. he sees it, you wearing it, as an unspoken acceptance of his claim, a mark of his territory, even if only known to him, and now you.

⁃ but even with the dragon-bone comb brushing along your scalp and the cloak wrapping you in its warmth, aemond’s tests don’t cease. they become more direct, more challenging. he questions your judgments, pushes you to defend your beliefs, each instance a gauntlet thrown at your feet. “prove me wrong,” he dares, and every time you rise to the challenge, it feels like a victory and a defeat, all at once.

⁃ his kinder actions aside, he's still a storm, a dragon at heart, unpredictable and restless. one moment, he's pushing you away with a cutting remark about how easily charmed you are by shiny things, the next, he's singling out anyone who dares speak lowly of you, though he'd never admit it's defence.

⁃ at a small gathering in the courtyard, a long-standing court noble sidles up to you, their voice low and laced with mock concern. “he’s got his eye on you, hasn’t he?” the words linger, unsettling in their ambiguity and specificity. you pause, the realization that your identity is becoming entwined with aemond’s reputation unsettling you. aemond has never hinted at any interest directly, nor publicly, yet his actions speak volumes, and, you realise in that moment, it’s not solely obvious to you anymore. soon after the incident, you find out that same noble has suddenly, unexpectedly, and without formal reason, returned to the seat of their house.

⁃ his idea of openly flirting with you? challenging you to a horse race when he falls into stride with you during a royal hunting trip in the kingswood, under the guise of proving your recklessness. "i believed you too fragile, my lady," he teases, goading you into proving him wrong once again. his singular attention on you, which is no longer lost on the court, is both infuriating and exciting.

⁃ challenging aemond becomes an unexpected thrill, not only during a ride but over a map of disputed borders laid out in the council chamber. “might there be room for diplomacy?” you suggest, the words hanging boldly between you. his look is sharp, a mix of annoyance and something vaguely resembling admiration. it’s a small victory, asserting your voice amidst the power plays of court.

⁃ at a feast, when you catch him observing from across the room, there’s a moment where the world narrows to just the two of you. later, as he escorts you to the far-side of the keep to your quarters (with his kingsguard and your maid as chaperones) he openly negs you about your taste in music, literature, the arts, but always in a way that demands a response, a defense. it’s exhausting, exhilarating, maddening.

⁃ the tension between public perception and private truths comes to a head when a rumor reaches you about aemond defending your honour in your absence, against a council member nonetheless, stirring a complex mix of emotions. confronting him leads to a terse exchange, “i can defend myself” you start, watching his reaction closely. his reply is noncommittal, a shrug that does little to clarify his intentions, leaving you to question the nature of his interest. it’s this dance of half-truths and veiled motivations that keeps you wary, even as court intrigue pulls you deeper.

⁃ but within weeks, at a ball, his behaviour is so uncharacteristic of his typical self-seriousness that it has prince aegon downright gleeful in his amusement, and queen alicent looks as if she’s seen a ghost. aemond is seen drinking, whispering with others, occasionally even laughing. however, his eye never strays far from you, always positioning himself where he could get to you if he so pleased. he dances and flirts with a handful of ladies other than you, but each step seems a performance, deliberate and pointed. later, he privately comments on how predictable such events are, subtly relishing in your sulky expression and stiff responses.

⁃ jealousy becomes a tool after that, a sharpened blade wielded with precision, but only ever at you. he’s seen in the company of the most eligible ladies of the court, only to cast them aside with a cold indifference as you approach. "mere court games," he scoffs when you question it, but the message is clear, and the music, testing the lengths of your interest.

⁃ if your gaze lingers on another, noble or common-born, their fortune subtly wanes and they suddenly seem… less. aemond doesn't openly compete; still, pieces move, fall and retreat in a carefully woven net of doubts and second guesses, a whisper here, a look there, enough to make rivals for your affection run for cover without a word spoken against them.

⁃ more gifts arrive, still with no indication of their sender, but layered with meaning; a book on war strategy with passages underlined and notes in the margin, a brooch echoing both the targaryen and hightower sigil, as well as a sapphire necklace that you do not understand the connection of, yet – each gift a tangible tether to him. aemond does not react when he sees you with his gifts, except for looking vaguely pleased with himself, which is hardly out of the ordinary. however, his grandsire otto does a double-take as you pass him in the hall whilst wearing the sapphire one, and soon after queen alicent is personally inviting you to ladies luncheons and visits to the sept with her pious entourage, rarely accepting your attempts to decline.

⁃ suddenly, your opinions, your insights become valuable to aemond. "what would you do?" he asks at point blank, unexpectedly. he is not simply testing your loyalty or competence anymore, but also making you a co-conspirator in his plans, a shared counsel that blurs the line between advisor and confidante, drawing you deeper into his web.

⁃ there are also more guards being stationed in the spaces you regularly inhabit, silent sentinels who only seem to materialise with your presence. a guard, often enough a kingsguard, is seemingly always readily available to escort you to wherever you wish to go, whenever you wish to go. that in itself is a privilege few ladies are afforded, if not a confirmation that this newfound surveillance protection is aemond’s doing.

⁃ even if you pretend not to, you don’t miss the way select servants follow you from one of your duties to the next under the pretence of cleaning spotless floors. more concerning are the shadows and faint footsteps that you notice on occasion. a silent assertion of his presence in your life, protective yet possessive. it’s there in the corridors you walk, the gardens you frequent, a reminder of his reach, his interest, a silent witness to your virtue and a deterrent to your vices.

⁃ the isolation comes gradually. “they do not see you, not truly,” aemond whispers during a stolen moment, his surprisingly warm fingers grazing your cheek. these days, he casts doubt on the intentions of those around you, proudly and indiscriminately. it’s a not-so subtle tug away from the crowd, toward him, towards his house, towards the brewing civil war, and the frightening thing is, it works. he had spun a web, complex and suffocating, around you deftly, and you had not seen the delicate strands until it was too late; you find yourself seeking his company, his approval, even as you bristle at his methods.

⁃ so when he corners you under the cover of moonlight, asking, “what is it you want?” it feels like the culmination of a long, intricate dance. it’s a challenge, a confession, a turning point. his question isn’t just about desire; it’s about allegiance, about choosing sides in a game you never agreed to play. the gifts, the challenges, the protection, the whispers, the barbed words — all of it binds you to him in a way that’s impossible to ignore. and you realise, with a mix of dread and fascination, that you’re too entangled to simply walk away.

𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 © do not copy, repost or translate my works without my permission

thank you for reading – feedback and requests are welcome x

→ 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 🕊️

[thedemonofcat]

I am interested in a comprehensive list of all the different names Jaskier is given in various translations. It would be fascinating to explore the meanings behind each name and any symbolism they might carry. I plan to group together languages that use the same name for him.

Jaskier: His name resonates universally, transcending languages and cultures. In Polish, French, Portuguese, Romanian, Bulgarian, Russian, and Spanish, Jaskier translates to Buttercup. These small yellow flowers symbolize joy and happiness, evoking images of carefree days and childlike wonder. They also represent youth and innocence, which aligns with theories about Jaskier's non-human origins. Another significant symbolism of buttercups is their friendship connection, fitting perfectly with Jaskier's close bond with Geralt. Historically, buttercups were used in folk medicine, symbolizing healing and protection, despite their toxicity and the need for careful handling.

Dandelion: Known from the English, Hungarian, Italian, Japanese, Belarusian, and Turkish translations. Perhaps the most familiar name, Dandelion, typically appears in two forms: small white, fluffy flowers that can be blown away by the wind and bright yellow blooms. Dandelions symbolize resilience, thriving in challenging conditions and growing almost anywhere, symbolizing perseverance, strength, and the ability to overcome obstacles. Historically used in medicine, dandelions are associated with healing and survival. They also symbolize a connection to nature and freedom, perfectly reflecting the bard’s character. Some Native American tribes view the dandelion as a sun symbol, representing warmth, growth, and the sustaining force of life. This connection to nature and resilience mirrors Jaskier’s character, who, despite facing many challenges, remains resilient and deeply connected to the natural world.

Marigold: Used in Czech and Serbian translations, this name is perhaps the most unusual since there is already a character named Marigold in the series. Nonetheless, marigolds symbolize brightness and positivity. With their vibrant yellow and orange hues, marigolds represent warmth, cheerfulness, and the light of life. This fits well with a bard’s role, as marigolds also symbolize creativity. In Mexican culture, marigolds are central to Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebrations, symbolizing the connection between the living and the dead. In Indian culture, marigolds are used in religious rituals and weddings, symbolizing love, devotion, and the divine. They are often offered to gods and goddesses as a sign of reverence and respect.

Ranonkel: From Dutch, though translated to Ranunculus, which are buttercups. I'd like to discuss the story from Greek mythology that relates to Ranunculus, as it aligns with Jaskier's character. Ranunculus was a handsome and talented young man known for his beautiful singing voice, captivating everyone who heard him. However, he was also vain and self-centred, revelling in the admiration he received. One day, while performing in a meadow, Ranunculus encountered a group of wood nymphs (dryads). Enchanted by his voice and appearance, the nymphs stopped to listen. Despite their admiration, Ranunculus ignored them, focusing solely on his performance and delighting in his own voice. Pan, the god associated with rustic wilderness and nymphs, observed Ranunculus's vanity. To teach him a lesson, Pan intervened. He transformed Ranunculus into a delicate, beautiful flower that would forever bloom in meadows and fields—the Ranunculus flower. This mythological tale is an intriguing parallel to Jaskier's character and could potentially inspire a fanfiction story in the future.

Valvatti from Finnish. Valvatti, which, from what I can tell, translates to Sow Thistle, can symbolize resilience but can also symbolize unseen beauty. Despite being considered a weed, sow thistle produces small, yellow flowers that symbolize hidden beauty or overlooked potential. This can remind you to look beyond outward appearances and appreciate hidden qualities.

Rittersporn German. Otherwise known as Larkspurs, they can symbolize openness and lightness with their vibrant colours. They can also be used as symbols for thickness and are connected to strong bonds of love. Some cultures believe that larkspurs offer protection against negative energies or bad luck. Placing them in a garden or a bouquet is thought to bring positivity and ward off evil spirits.

Vėdrynas is From Lithuanian. Breaking from the flowers, Vedryans translates to Lark, which can be seen as the bringers of dawn and the start of a new day. Larks are symbols of songs and music, which goes great with a Bard. Larks are agile birds that soar high in the sky, symbolizing freedom, independence, and the ability to rise above challenges or limitations.

Blyskáč is from Czech. It translates to "sparkler" or "firecracker" in English. Once again, breaking from the typical flower names, blyskac can symbolize celebration. The firecrackers' brightness and sparkle evoke joy, optimism, and positivity. They are often associated with bringing good luck and warding off evil spirits in various cultural traditions. Firecrackers and sparklers burn brightly but quickly fade away. They symbolize the fleeting nature of moments and encourage living in the present and appreciating life's transient beauty.

These are all the names I could find. If I missed any or made any translation errors, please feel free to let me know.

[eveletii]

Become the Bard!

Follow in the footsteps of the most prolific bard of all time in this mini version of the classic Legacy Challenge, that will stir up drama in your game! Give the classic Shakesperian tales your own spin and live out epic stories of love, comedy and tragedy in The Sims 4. It's going to be worthy of a standing ovation!

In total there are 5 Generations in this challenge, each representing a different Shakesperian play.

The official hashtag for the challenge is #ShakespeareLegacyTS4. Break a leg!

Overall Rules

Lifespan: Normal

Cheats: Allowed only when setting up scenarios

Recommended Mods: UI Cheats Extension e MC Command Center.

Necessary Packs

Lovestruck

Growing Together

Cottage Living

Horse Ranch

High School Years

StrangerVille

Get Famous

Recommended Packs*

Seasons

Nifty Knitting

My Wedding Stories

*These packs are not required to complete the challenge, but can add to the storylines.

❝You grew up wealthy, with a big happy family. There weren’t too many rules, except for one: the sims across the street are not to be befriended. But you were never one to follow rules anyway... Especially when one of the neighbors is so cute...❞

❤✧✦✧❤

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Lovebug, Family-Oriented and Gloomy

Career: Romance Consultant

✧ Complete the Soulmate aspiration (or die trying!) ✧ After that dramatic beginning to your love story, you sure have a lot of advice to give. Monetize it by maxing the Romance Consultant career! ✧ Be the ultimate lover and max the Romance skill by interacting with your partner ✧ Create two households, with 5-8 Sims each. Pick a family to control ✧ Make sure there is at least 1 teenager in each household, they’ll be the main couple ✧ It is important that ALL adults from one household HATE the Sims from the other one, and vice versa! (Cheats may be used to achieve that) ✧ Elope with your partner as soon as you both become Young Adults and then move to a different Neighborhood or World ✧ Have only 2 children, twins or close in age ✧ Have a date night with your partner once a week. (You may do it on random days or create custom holidays using the Calendar)

❝You’re not easy. You know that. Your sibling knows that. Your parents know that. A smarty-pants with a temper, with too many ideas and too little patience. But does that mean you can’t find the one? If your parents did it, so can you, right? I mean, not that you’re looking for someone. Or... are you?❞

❤✧✦✧❤

Aspiration: Best-Selling Author

Traits: Hot-Headed, Bookworm and Romantically Reserved

Career: Politician

✧ Complete your aspiration and become the best-selling author on the San Myshuno Times! ✧ You have a lot to teach the world, but the world has one thing to teach YOU: kindness. Join the Politician career and max it, through the Charity Organizer branch ✧ Soften your edges by maxing the Charisma skill ✧ Develop a DIFFICULT dynamic with your family during your teenage years ✧ You can only date once you become a Young Adult ✧ Go on 3 failed dates before finding The One ✧ Have only 2 kids, both girls. (Cheats may be used to achieve that) ✧ You must get married when on Level 4 of your career, and then pick the Charity branch ✧ Work slowly on your charisma skill throughout your career.

❝A free-spirit with a heart of gold, you knew what you wanted from an early age, and left your home to run a wool farm, filled with sheep and llamas. You and your younger sister are two peas in a pod, even though you two are polar opposites. You, a tomboy, her, a princess. Once she graduates high school she comes to live with you at the farm. You thought it’d be just you two forever... That’s when a cute local comes along...❞

❤✧✦✧❤

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Socially Awkward, Rancher

Career: None

✧ Be the pride of Finchwick Fair by completing the Country Caretaker aspiration ✧ You must NOT join any careers throughout your life, and all the money you make must come from the farm ✧ Get first place at a Finchwick Fair competition at least three times in your life ✧ Show off your country skills by maxing the Gardening and Cooking skills ✧ Get at least Level 5 on the Cross-Stitching or Knitting skills (if you have Nifty Knitting) ✧ Become BFFs with your little sister as children ✧ Move out of your parents’ home as a teenager, half-way through high school to start your farm in Henford-on-Bagley (Start small, taking little money from the original household with you. Dropping out of high school or not is up to you) ✧ Have only 2 kids, both girls. (Cheats may be used to achieve that) ✧ You must date and marry only Sims from the world you live in ✧ You must marry at the end of your late Young Adult days/early Adult days ✧ You can only have ONE child ✧ You must use the Simple Living lot challenge in your home lot

❝Marriage? Never! You’ve had a serious partner once, and let’s just say it didn’t go well, and it gets worse! After all, exes are forever. You two bump into each other all the time and the fighting is endless. Could all this hatred just unhealed wounds from your love story gone wrong, or could all this fighting hide something more?❞

❤✧✦✧❤

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Traits: Noncommittal, Self-Assured and Mean

Career: Military

✧ Be the bane of your ex’s existence by completing the Chief of Mischief aspiration ✧ Get to Level 5 in the Military career and then switch to a new one of your choice. Achieve Level 5 in the new career ✧ Max out the Mischief skill and get to at least Level 5 on the Logic skill ✧ Your traits must be acquired in the following order: 1- Self Assured, 2- Mean, 3- Noncommittal ✧ Date only ONE Sim as a Teenager. After much fighting, break up before turning Young Adult ✧ Rekindle the flame and marry your ex as an Adult. Have as many kids as you please ✧ Join the Military career and stay in it until you get married. After that, switch careers to a career of your choice ✧ Start developing your Mischief skill during your teenage years

❝A creature of romance and drama, you were born to love and to shine on and off stage. Your life is the most daunting story in your family to date. But that’s probably because this Challenge doesn’t include The Scottish Play.❞

❤✧✦✧❤

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Traits: Romantic, Creative and Erratic

Career: Acting

✧ Master the Serial Romantic aspiration and win (and break!) a lot of hearts ✧ Reach the top of the Acting career ✧ Get to Level 10 on the Mischief, Romance and Acting and at least Level 5 in the Charisma skill ✧ Have a close relationship with your parent who was the past generation’s heir and develop a Jokester family dynamic with them ✧ Date A LOT and from and early age, but only get engaged once. During the wedding ceremony, leave your partner at the altar ✧ Children are allowed, but not mandatory ✧ Begin developing the Mischief skill with your parents

[whencyclopedia]

Eleanor of Aquitaine, as It Was Said: Truth and Tales about the Medieval Queen

Sullivan's "Eleanor of Aquitaine" delves into the complex life of the medieval queen who ruled both France and England. Sullivan critically examines centuries-old accounts, both factual and legendary, to explore Eleanor’s political influence, romantic affairs, and cultural impact. This meticulously researched work is ideal for scholars of medieval history, offering a nuanced portrayal of Eleanor's legacy, though its dense and detailed style may be challenging for general audiences.

The presence of women in positions of power has consistently captivated individuals, and the reign of Eleanor of Aquitaine is a prime example of this phenomenon. Born in 1122, she was a prominent medieval queen who held power in both France and England. Irma Brandeis Professor of Romance Literature and Culture at Bard University, Karen Sullivan, provides meticulously researched accounts of Eleanor's life in her latest work, Eleanor of Aquitaine, as It Was Said: Truth and Tales of the Medieval Queen.

The author details Eleanor’s life from her birth around 1122 to her death in 1204. The work itself is a clear and impressive display of dedication Karen Sullivan offers on the topic of the Duchess of Aquitaine and all things related to the marvel of medieval studies.

Accounts of Eleanor’s life have been extensively discussed and disputed for centuries. Today, it remains a subject of scholarly controversy. Sullivan proves that Eleanor of Aquitaine's enduring historical legacy is attributed to her wealth, influence, alleged romantic affairs, and even her collaborated plot to overthrow her husband, King Henry II. Medieval authors warned readers by using the term "it was said" to qualify their accounts of Eleanor. This phrase indicated that they were merely recounting stories that were already in existence, and Sullivan's book uses this point as the springboard for its discussions.

Numerous highlights describe Eleanor’s significant impact on the regions she ruled. Her influence extended beyond her political roles, affecting the cultural and intellectual life of the time. The book explores her patronage of the arts and her role in developing chivalric culture. Sullivan scrutinizes topics of modern media, such as movies depicting Queen Eleanor with the same attention as the manuscripts of 12th-century histories, which may come off as dense to some readers.

Eleanor’s life as Duchess of Aquitaine, Queen of France, Queen of England, and mother of kings was complex. Sullivan examines these details thoughtfully without oversimplification when summarizing the complicated minutiae of Eleanor’s experiences, as they were said. The coverage of Eleanor’s life and relationships in the text, as well as descriptions of her time imprisoned and time spent at the Abbey of Fontevraud, are truly fascinating.

According to Sullivan, although the tales of Eleanor from the Middle Ages possess an imaginative quality, they offer insights into the societal norms for women in 12th-century France. The primary subject of this book is the examination of these truths by Sullivan to the extent that they can be comprehended from an outside perspective.

This title will not disappoint those who are seeking a deep dive into the various medieval clerical texts and manuscripts that mention Eleanor of Aquitaine. Sullivan, being a true expert on the topic, gives readers a book based on critically analyzed historical sources. The work draws on a range of sources to offer a nuanced portrait of Eleanor. Therefore, the book is not a simple read and might not suit younger readers, such as those in secondary schools. Sullivan's writing incorporates elaborate historical details that she examines from various viewpoints and intellectual debates. The material itself is recommended for research purposes versus reading for pleasure.

Overall, Karen Sullivan’s biography aims to present Eleanor of Aquitaine not just as a historical figure but as a complex individual with considerable influence no matter the source. This book should be considered a well-regarded resource written by an expert for those interested in medieval studies and the role of women in historical politics.

Continue reading...

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 19th: Scifi/tech | Electric Eye - Judas Priest | Bewildered a/n: eddie pov, eddie & dustin friendship, dustin & steve friendship, and an excuse for me to weasel one of my favorite steve headcanons into something. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

After his release from the hospital and the unfortunate news that his trailer had been destroyed, Eddie goes from functionally homeless to having multiple spaces that feel like home. 

He’s been all but adopted by Claudia at this point, an offer extended immediately after hearing the version of the story everyone’s agreed upon— that the ground split open and Eddie nearly ate it pushing Dustin out of the way. It’s not quite the truth, but the theme is the same and anyone who’s willing to sacrifice themself for her son is welcome any time. 

Especially when he’s been called upon to help with Dustin’s science fair project. It’s out of Eddie’s league a bit, the actual science part, but he and his mechanical brain prove helpful. Kinda nice, actually, to use those hotwiring skills for good. 

Of course, it also helps that the government set him and Wayne up in a modest two bedroom house down the road, and that Eddie can practically smell Claudia's cooking when the windows are open. Like Garfield, he’s drawn to the Henderson house with the scent of a fresh lasagna. 

Bellies full and completed project sitting confidently on the kitchen table for tomorrow, they’re watching Star Wars movies in Dustin’s living room, one after another, and he feels just a touch like a traitor. Star Trek will always have his heart and Wayne can never know. 

“How’d you get into Star Wars anyways?” Eddie asks, sprawled across Dustin’s couch. 

“Can you believe Steve actually got me into them?” Dustin replies, curled up on the recliner. 

There’s an infinite number of ways a child might be introduced to the Star Wars franchise— a parent, a trailer before another movie, a carrier pigeon dropping a flier at their fucking feet— and they’re all more believable than Steve Harrington introducing Dustin Henderson to the sci-fi epic. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie turns with wide eyes and a crooked grin to face Dustin. “What?”

“I know, right? It was uh, okay this is a little embarrassing.” Dustin cuts himself off, justifying some secret Eddie somehow hasn’t been told yet. 

He knows about the Mind Flayer and the Russians, and all the other Dungeons and Dragons lore that’d lived beneath his feet for years. What could possibly be left to make Dustin cringe like that? 

“Oh, do tell.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and gestures with an arm towards the expanse of space between them. “Floor is yours, young Bard. Spin the tale.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and throws popcorn at him. He tries to catch it in his mouth but he’s never been that coordinated. 

“It’s not really a tale. A few years ago, there was this school dance, the Snow Ball. I got all amped up, Steve helped with my hair, and then the night was a total fucking dud. Nancy danced with me which was like, super awesome of her, but I felt like shit after anyways.”

Eddie listens with rapt attention, pissed off that Dustin had such a relatable middle school experience and intrigued at this new sliver of Steve lore. Not that he cares. Obviously. Why would he? The idea of Steve helping Dustin get ready for the Snow Ball doesn’t conjure up words like adorable at all. 

He nods him on. 

“And uh, I called Steve the next day. He came over and we had pizza and he brought some of his favorite movies he thought I’d like. Star Wars had spaceships so obviously, easy choice. And here we are now with Return of the Jedi.” 

Okay, yep, that’s gonna be hard to tamp down the next time he sees Steve. Stomping his ill-advised crush into the ground beneath his Rebooks has been hard enough but now? Motherfucker. 

It’s also not lost on him that Dustin chose these movies today. Eddie feels like he’s stepping into some tradition that doesn’t belong to him, but he can’t squash the kid’s enthusiasm with his own insecurity. 

Instead, Eddie goes for the low hanging fruit.  

“Wow. Gotta tell you man, that’s maybe weirder than finding out about the monsters and shit. Steve’s favorite movie is Return of the Jedi?” 

Dustin snorts and laughs, toothless and free. Happiness isn’t new for Dustin, not anymore, but it’s still nice to see after all they’ve been through. 

“Well, that’s one of them. He always calls it ‘the ones with the teddy bears’, so people assume he means Return of the Jedi. But I know the truth. That dork loves Caravan of Courage.”

Eddie flips through his mental catalog of sci-fi movies and lands on a VHS cover: a couple of humans, a few Ewoks, and something that looks like a machine gun. If he remembers correctly, it has something of a cult following but wasn’t touted as a high point in the series. 

… And it’s Steve’s favorite. The one with the teddy bears. 

“Wait… what?!”

[eleganthologramcolor]

Spreading my illness of being addicted to magical AUs and also absolute adoration for the relationships written out about characters who aren't pure human 😙

I love every ounce of fantasy creature 141 I can get but I would LOVE to see more of the same but flipped.

Reader who is a vicious fairy tale critter who's trust has to be earned before she allows anyone to come close. Soap finds himself leaving out meat as if he were trying to feed a stray cat, trying to get this thing to warm up to him.

Reader who is a goddess or even a demigod, who maybe only pays attention to worshippers, or maybe they're shy of such a thing, especially when a warrior as famed as Ghost is the one kneeling at their shrine.

A Reader who is only half of a mythical being, being able to shift back and forth between their human form and mythical form fully, unaware of the bewildered stare from Gaz when he catches her crawling out of the water unharmed after disappearing the night before when she was caught in a wave.

A Reader who is part of a feared beast, terrorizing locals and travelers who enter their domain, suddenly challenged by a craftsmen from the village. Price staying up at night researching the beast and finally tracking it down, only to discover its hybrid nature makes them as small as any human, and opts to tame them rather than returning with their head.

Reader who is feared, worshipped, or revered, a reader who is observed with awe and curiosity. A dual power dynamic of a man who is much larger than you, yet you who can be much more dangerous if you feel threatened. Allowing any of 141 to have control only because you don't show your fangs, put away your claws, or lash at him with your tail. An unexpected softness between a warrior and a bloody forest fiend, or the gentle patience of a bard playing an apologetic and sweet melody trying to coax down the skittish and pretty thing that scrambled up the tree when he disturbed their nest.

[inspirationalucky]

Disney Princess Villain Songs

[ PART 1 / 2 ] a collection of sentence prompts / rp memes inspired by lydia the bard's disney princess villain songs. please don't add more prompts/memes to this list, definitely change pronouns, names, etc. as necessary for the situation! part two.

Tale as Old as Time (Belle's Villain Song)

"It's your final page."

"You see in this world, we're merely players."

"The truth is I'm the beauty, you're the beast"

"You thought we're a match. Sweetheart, I am far smarter than that"

"There is no one living that can challenge me"

"You're unworthy."

"What a genius plan! Truly, did you think this through?"

"I let you all believe I would go quietly while I sat and planned my hand"

"I have not spent my life reading books, my hours studying, to be some desperate prince's lonely wife"

"Wanna lock me away? Well, by all means, have your fun with that"

"I will be the author of my life"

"You're all idiots for thinking that you'd really make it out of this alive"

"You are nothing but a monster to me"

"You're not worth my pity"

"Not even one of you is a rival to what I can do"

"Don't you get it? This is my design"

"I've made all my moves"

Journey to the Past (Anastasia's Villain Song)

"Your new queen is speaking"

"A new age is finally here"

"Yes, the rumor's true!"

"Bow down now or live in fear"

"Starting now you finish last"

"You stole my family and my past"

"There's a debt that's owed. Justice to deliver."

"You'll be forced to right this wrong"

"This ghost's been here all along"

"Thought I'd found them, but then, how was I to know?"

"It's a lie, they just abandon you and go"

"I will never be complete until I find you"

"Now you understand!"

"You're the special few blessed to join my table"

"You're my brand new family now"

"Justice will be mine, I'll have vengeance for my past"

Almost There (Tiana's Villain Song)

"[ Tia! ] What have you done?"

"[ Tia ], you need to snap out of it!"

"I remember when you told me all our dreams are coming true"

"Dreams like that? They don't come for free."

"Didn't think I'd have to stand and see just what you'd turn into"

"She doesn't care who gets hurt on the way, 'cause she's almost there"

"Oh, [ Lottie ]. You're not thinking about the big picture!"

"If there's one thing Daddy taught me, it's that hard work don't get you by"

"You gotta be willing to play bad and give the cards a try"

'If a few folks get hurt on the way, well, maybe they should've learned to play"

"I'm collecting, and debts are due"

"I haven't worked this hard to stop right now!"

"You're scaring me!"

"Don't you see? There's nothing we can't do when it's just me and you."

"Do this and you'll lose me! Or don't you care?"

"Babe, if you're against it, I don't want you here!"

This Wish (Asha's Villain Song)

"You're so far from what I'd thought you'd be"

"You've taken one step too far, and hurt the ones I swore to defend"

"Well, I want my life to finally mean something"

"They say we're made of stars, but a star's more dangerous than they seem"

"If a darker path is what will free us finally, let me be the first to walk that line"

"My whole life I idolized you!"

"I followed your rules, did what I had to do"

"It seems about time you paid for your abuse"

"Shouldn't have dared to try and cross me."

"If I can be powerful, then I can provide everything we need"

"You see, I've been weak before. I won't be that anymore."

"I'd give anything to stop history repeating"

"I didn't want any of this to happen"

"You'll suffer for your crimes!"

How Far I'll Go (Moana's Villain Song)

"I had been the perfect daughter long as I can remember."

"But you laughed and you shoved me away!"

"When you push you'll soon find out how far I'll go."

"We could have fixed this so, so long ago."

"Now reap what you've sown"

"You've brought about all of our demise"

"You've spread fear to all of those around you"

"I could save them all. I could stop this curse."

"But you shut me out, you abandoned me!"

"I once thought that I had a loving father"

"Now you'll pay for all the lives that you've broken"

"You'll watch your people drown"

"All these useless and meaningless deaths? They're on your head"

"I take no pride in seeing them die"

"You won't find a savior in me, I guarantee"

I'll Make A Man Outta You (Mulan's Villain Song)

"The least we could do is give them a warning."

"I feel we could use a pep talk before leaving"

"Once you find his weakness, we are sure to win"

"This man's debts are finally due"

"Boy, was I a fool for trusting you!"

"Now, look what you've made me do! See what you've turned me into!"

"It let me know that my true calling was to see you dead."

"Most of you won't make it, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make"

"We've sacrificed too much to turn back now"

"They've been in charge too long."

[thedaselcor]

Late into the night, Gwen stayed perched on the edge of Morgana’s bed, running fingers gently through her hair, and telling her stories her father had told her when she was a girl.

“One more?” Morgana asked, filled with guilt and shame for asking, for being so afraid of sleep.

But Gwen didn’t judge her, or seem upset with the request, or make a show of impatience at being kept from her home for so long. She only smiled, and nodded, and searched her mind for the right story to end the night.

“Well,” she announced in a conspiratorial tone, when she found it, “I do have one more. It’s a very very special one, so you can’t tell anyone about it.” Then, she settled in close, and lowered her voice to a whisper, and began to tell her tale.

“A long long time ago, in a place not very far from here, there lived nine beautiful sisters: Morgen, Moronoe, Mazoe, Gliten, Glitonea, Glisten, Tyrione, Thiten, and Tithon--whose parents clearly had trouble thinking up enough unique names for their beautiful daughters.

“The nine sisters ruled a magical realm called Avalon, the Isle of Apples, and they were the kindest, most benevolent enchantress-sisters, famed for their abilities as shapeshifters, and as the greatest healers of all time.

“One day, the great bard Taliesin entered Avalon through a magical portal of water and dreams, a portal no mortal man before him had ever used alive. In his arms, he carried a great and fallen king.

“‘Please, oh wise and beautiful sisters,’ said Taliesin, ‘my king, he has fallen in battle. I beg of you, fair maidens of the Isle of Apples, bring my king back to life, I will give anything.’

“‘But why should we do this?’ the sisters asked. ‘Why should we get involved in the world of mortal kings, who are we to decide the fate of Albion?’

“‘Please,’ said Taliesin. ‘My king has been the greatest king that ever was. I know that if you return him to me, he will bring about a world where our two kingdoms could be at peace. A world of magic and beauty like no one has ever known.’

“‘But why should we believe you?’ asked the sisters. ‘You are known even to the kingdom of Avalon as a great bard, it is in your nature to speak falsehoods.’

“‘Not falsehood, my ladies,’ protested Taliesen. ‘Never falsehoods. The purpose of a great story is to guide, to speak the truth that no man wants to hear into his very soul so that it may live forever. Please, without my king my soul is sundered. Without my king, I can never again be complete.’

“Upon hearing Taliesen’s desperate plea, the sisters felt their hearts ache for him as they had never felt before. So, they devised a way to test both the goodness of the king, and the soul bond he allegedly shared with this bard.

“‘Very well, dear bard, let us put your theory of myth to the test,’ said the eldest sister Morgen, stepping forward as the leader of her sisters. ‘You will have one year in Albion, to tell the story of your once and future king, and then you  must return to us. Then, we will create a future for you and your king, and I will personally leave my memories here in Albion and join you.

“‘If your king is as good a person as you claim, and your story is strong enough to still be told in Albion to guide us, then I will carry him myself into Avalon the next time that he falls, and he shall be granted life enough to rule over this new, united Albion you promise. But if he isn’t, or if you fail, then you will be doomed to wait for him forever, never remembering this bargain, never knowing why your soul must forever remain sundered.’

“‘Very well,’ said Taliesen, grasping to the fine thread of hope the sisters were able to offer, ‘I will face your challenge, for my king, for Albion, for all of us.’ 

“When he left to tell his story, Morgen turned to her sisters and wept. She knew, in her heart, that striking this bargain was the truly benevolent path, but she feared the immense loneliness she would face in Albion without her sisters. ‘Don’t worry,’ they told her, ‘wherever you go, we will follow in your dreams--in the place where Albion and Avalon touch--and we will guide you.’

“And so was born the gift and curse of every seer, to hear the guidance of the eight sisters of Avalon, waiting for the day their eldest sister will return with the great king, and guiding her from the shadows.”