#In the Hall of the Mountain King started playing in my head

[memorizingthedigitsofpi]

I'm fully aware of the fact that there are only so many letters in the English language and that this means that acronyms often end up feeling coincidental because they repeat in different areas of your life with different meanings, but at the same time I was not prepared to open a very official email for Important Adult Tasks and end up reading the acronym

LOTR

[hcdragonwrites]

Tangled Love

(A @semisolidmind Drabble)

Ok! I ran this by Semi before I posted just because I know absolutely nothing about LMK (except the animation can be so pretty!) just so I could get their characters down. I hope you all like it !

She just wanted to escape- both from this place and from her own mind tonight.

The ghosts of memories were walking and she had no distractions to chase them away.

Peaches walked the cool cavern halls of Water- Curtain Cave, her feet echoing in the depths. The sandals she wore and the ornamental clothing she had been thrown into made her scalp prickle and her skin itch. It was too much- but the attendants wouldn’t hear a thing about it.

She had to look the part of Queen.

Peaches, in the absence of the Lord of the mountain and his right hand and sword, was the remaining voice of authority.

To a point.

Finishing with courtly duties and listening in on behalf of her husbands wasn't a huge chore. The two of them rarely left at the same time however. If one was called away the other would remain. Or Peaches herself would be brought along.

This time however she hadn’t been.

It was the first time in ten years.

She had just this night- just this moment of reprieve and she would make the most of it. Or so she thought. Instead, she was fighting something that reared its head and struck her nerves like a asp.

However she wasn’t alone quite yet. As she rounded the corner and came to golden lacquered doors of her bedchamber - their bedchamber- she paused.

“Will that be all my queen?” One of the attending retinue of her guard asked. It was a guard her husbands insisted upon whenever both were away from home- a set of seven of the most battle scarred simians Peaches had ever seen.

They were tasked and sworn with following her everywhere - to the dining hall, to the throne room. If she wished to go and sit among the apple trees and listen to the wind play over the mountain grasses her guard would double in size. Peaches tried to not cause the denizens of Flower fruit mountain any more problems or stressors by going outside when both the King and his Brother in arms were away on a war path.

Her husbands.

It’s what they titled themselves now, after a decade of the terrible start they had on their relationship with her. When she had met the two, they had been just tiny monkeys. A sly looking ginger and gold monkey who had loved to cling to her arms and a dark black furred monkey that brought her fruits and almonds from the wild.

My sweet boys.

They had been her monkeys back then- the little prankster angels she had thought were just simple beasts, trying to survive out in the world.

She had been wrong.

The decision to upend her life, she guessed, had been floated around for months between the two disguised demons as they ate her fruit and enjoyed her touches. It was a mutual one that both had decided was the best option for her.

She took a steadying breath, coming back to the present. Peaches wanted a chance to be alone. Something so rare she craved it like a man in a desert craved water.

“Yes, general. I think I’ll retire early for the day.” She smiled at the monkey who dipped his body into a bow. The gleam of his armor set the flickers of a memory brewing. Fire in the trees, the smell of iron on the wind and a figure among the debris. She shook her head to dislodge it. The rest of them weren’t awful to her. Her husbands weren’t awful to her. They had just ….

Taken away her decisions.

“Very well Queen.” Peaches flinched, unable to quite stomach the title and what that truly meant. If I am queen then why am I without choices? “If you need us call us.”

She turned the handle in the door and slipped in side with as much grace as she could muster.

Peaches closed the ornamental doors to the bedroom, resting her head against the door. Steady. Deep breaths. In through her nose out through her mouth.

The illusion of a paradise that Wukong had built and Macaque helped facilitate always lost its color and believability when they were away. They couldn’t feed her the sugared lies and candied perceptions to tamp back the memories of that night.

It had been just another night on the small farm - a June night of heat and singing cicadas- of windows wide open and Peaches trying to escape that heat. There wasn’t much she could do to escape it. The moisture clung to her and made her bedding stick and clog her nose. So on these nights she stayed up, usually with a candle or the moon to illuminate her night, and read.

The knock on the door was not something typical.

The memory was rising and she couldn’t hold it back. I have to ride it out. Survive it.

Like she had survived that night. Getting visitors in the dead of the night had been unconventional- and she remembered the feeling of being perturbed. Don’t answer it, she told the memory. But this was the past and ghosts of the past didn’t change their course.

She had closed her book, had stepped down the hall to the door and had opened it.

I should have called through- told him to stay away! I should have never left my bed or my book.

It was a drunk man. A fellow farm hand called in for one of the families to help bring in a harvest that had proved too bountiful for the immediate family to handle. Peaches could see the man before her eyes, smell the reek of him.

A drunk.

“Well ain’t it the village spinster! Whaaa da pretty thing you are!” He was a cloud of bitter rice wine, of too much sake on his breath. The intensity of it had a physical effect on her memory and in the present, Peaches wrinkled her nose.

“You should go home Sir.” She had told him- tried to close the door.

His foot moved faster and his hands had caught the door.

A wild set of emotions swept through her. She had to sit her body down, thankful she had been able to get away from the other monkeys before the memory seized her like a vice. They would have been in a panic over her and she couldn’t let their little hearts worry so. There was nothing they could do to stop the remembering.

It was his fault this all happened. It was His. He didn’t have to be drunk and show up at my home- he didn’t have to shove his way into my house and try and grab me.

But he was just a single man. Did his actions warrant the destruction that happened next ?

“Get out!” Her memory self cried. The wooden table she danced behind as the drunk stumbled and moved towards her, was her only shield.

“The Boys Said you prefer the company of wild animals …” his speech was hard to hear. The wine had made him bold, stupid, and aroused it seemed. “I thought I would give you mtaste of what a real man was, since the villagers are al’ ‘fraid of your Witchery with monkeys.”

She had run- she had thrown her things at him. It was probably the commotion of her breaking a pitcher over his head that had alerted her monkeys. The loud clatter of the pottery across the floor had sounded so sharp and final. It had only made the man more determined.

The drunk when he did get his hands on her was furious. He swung a fist and sent stars into her eyes. Peaches had clung like a wildcat to her conscious, kicking out with legs and swinging with fists. Her nose was full of the sour smell of him- had felt his hands and fought them. A kick to his groin had sent him wheezing. Another fist to her head had Peaches crying. She had stared that drunk in his mean little eyes as he whispered the terrible things he wanted to do to her.

She had been staring in those eyes when he died.

He never got to touch more than her arms that night.

Peaches heard something step through the door that had been left open to the night. She had heard the creak of her house as something walked within it. And the sound of something- like a water skin being popped and a splash of warm liquid against her belly had shocked her.

The Drunks eyes went wide with confusion, rolling horselike in his head. His bruising grip on her wrist had let go. In the present, She rubbed those wrists, the phantom pains hard.

“..mah… belly.” The drunk had mumbled then belched a bucket of blood onto the floor. Peaches could see something protruding from his middle- something long and thin like a stick. Or a staff.

Clawed hands pulled the head back and twisted with a fury. The sound of bones breaking was loud, as if a fire was consuming dry wood. The drunk crumbled in those hands like a puppet cut free of its strings.

A new stranger stood in her home, his frame large and broad and most assuredly not human. He tossed the body like someone would toss a rag across the floor. The glowing eyes in the sudden dark were all she could see. Her mind, even in its heightened adrenaline drenched state, recognized the face pattern, saw a familiarity in the fur. There was, in fact, still a little flower tucked against this demonic creatures ear. The same flower she had interwoven in her forest friend's fur that afternoon.

“Your… your my…”

Nerves and the come down from the adrenaline high we’re making speech hard. The monkey demon before her, who’s eyes seemed to spit fire, softened. Just a bit.

“You are my Peaches.” Wukong said, touching her hair, her face, her hands. Taking stock. Then he had taken those limp hands and threaded them through his fur, trying to get them to grip. It would help his own rage and calm her fear. It was thick in the air, ruining the natural sweet smell she had. That and the slab of flesh on the floors own fetid death scent.

Wukong was not the best at this - this comfort thing. But he would rise to the occasion. He would try for her.

Fury and rage made his tail lash and the fur along his neck to stand on end.

At first she had just been a simple human that would leave little offerings to him and his brother in arms. An oddity here in the shadow of his mountain. Most humans around here feared the monkeys and kept away from all of them, having a legend that if one was harmed a great calamity would befall them.

Wukong didn’t mind being that calamity. These were his people, his subjects. So hearing the chatter from some of his kind that a women had begun to leave out gifts had of course spiked the Kings curiosity. The humans beneath Flower Fruit Mountain were his lesser subjects. So he had come down from the mountain, disguising himself as a smaller and more approachable sized monkey, to see the fuss his subjects had started gossiping about at groomings. Only to see his brother, Macaque, already being petted and tended and kissed on each of his six ears.

Of course first impressions had been terrible and Wukong, used to getting the first pick of everything, had come screeching into the clearing and demanding his own pets. It had set off a very small and very mock little battle between the two brothers in arms. One that had Peaches separating them and scolding them as she patched up the little scratches they had taken from eachother. They could have each resisted her pull but both decided that play acting a fight, even if it had started as a bit of one, was the best way to get attention divided between the both of them.

Wukong hadn’t expected to become infatuated. Her name didn’t matter to him- he had rebranded her almost the instant she came to him and offered a smile and held out a handful of sugar and dates. Peaches. After the Kings own favorite fruit, the sweetest thing the mountain produced.

His Peaches.

Of course also Macaques. He shared everything with his brother, the dark furred and six eared demon who had faced battles and won wars besides Wukong. While Wukong had been more leery, Peaches won him over faster than Flower Wine loosened his rigid posture. They had both fallen for this mortal women. And, in the traditional way she belonged to them. She just didn’t know it yet. They had touched and groomed and cuddled and tangled limbs and tails. They were practically married without the marriage bit.

Wukong rubbed small circles into Peaches back, trying to keep himself from bearing his teeth in rage.

I should have taken her home the moment she kissed me.

They had been kisses of the kind one gives to a friend or pet. It had left the warlord craving more burning with more.

Of wanting to feel her give him more than just a chaste kiss on the side of his face.

She wouldn’t have been hurt if he had just taken her home.

Wukong and Macaque had taken to one or both spending the night in Peaches trees, to keep an eye on her. Wukongs obsession had grown into a fascination and warm buttery love. A love that was becoming a wild inferno as he fought to stay still and not leap upon the corpse he had made and turn it into nothing but bits of flesh and gore the crows could carry away.

His Peaches fingers finally grasped his fur and shook. It brought Wukong back from his montage of rage to the present. If only Mac was here — but he wasn’t. He was back at home on Flower Fruit mountain , giving his brother the night to enjoy and keep lookout at Peaches den.

“That’s my girl.” The demon tried to soothe. He really wished he could set Peaches down and finish off what he had started. This place had been bad. This village terrible. He hated every thing and one here that had dared to let a drunken fool up to his Peaches doorstep and allowed this to happen. In reality Wukong was mad it had been Mac’s own sense of importance on taking it slow and letting a little thing like a life outside of Flower Fruit Mountain stop him from from revealing who he was and taking her home.

I am done trying to woo her over slowly. They could have lost her this night if Wukong hadn’t been in earshot, hadn’t heard the crash of something breaking. His clawed hands wrapped around her back and beneath her legs. Before he could realize it, Wukong had her up and in his arms, already stepping on and across the corpse and out into the June air. Mine.

“Let’s get you home, lovely.” Wukongs voice was thick with emotion. Relief to finally, finally, finally have an excuse to take his wife home, to see her sleep in a real bed and eat real food made his heart swell. No more pretending. No more longing. It was happening now. Simmering beneath that emotion was the sweet bubble, the red misting rage, of violence. Once he got her home, got her safe, got her tangled within some of his and Macaques blankets to where the sour smell of fear would be lost within the scent of them- he could come back. He would come back.

He would destroy the village for being the obstacle it was in his conquest for this mortal girls heart. It was in itself, a relief to know he was justified in its destruction.

Look what this place did to bruise my sweet fruit.

Peaches was shaking. Clinging to him. I would have her cling to me always. He pressed his nose into her neck, breathing in as he walked off. She smelled so good. He rubbed his face to hers, affectionately smothering her fear scent. Wukong felt a smile curl his face. Finally. We can go home and put the charade to bed. Finally you are mine.

Peaches' memory of that night was mostly of clinging to Wukong as they flew through the air, of his voice a rumble of soft words and comforts. He was holding her close, pressing her in. Smothering her in a sense. But she needed it. She clung to it in a way to stop herself from being sick from fright. It was strange but familiar to hold this fur, to cling. Then she briefly remembered another voice, another set of hands. When she looked up and saw that her sweet dark monkey was also here, had also been a demon in disguise, something broke in her. Maybe hysteria. Maybe disbelief. Or maybe she knew, somewhere in her mind, that no matter what she said now wouldn’t save the people- the innocents- in her village.

Peaches had been transferred into the dark arms and THATS where she finally began to cry. The shock was fading and leaving behind ragged holes of emotion.

“Safe, you're safe now.” She was reassured. Hands had lifted her chin, her sweet little monkey- now a demonic one- was gently beginning to sponge away the blood from the cuts on her face. Her cheek swelled, her eye with it.

“Please don’t kill them.” She begged. “He already took care of the one who hurt me don’t kill my village.”

“Hush love…”

“Please!”

Silence. Something cold pressed to her face- a bit of snow from far up the mountain wrapped in cloth. Macaques ears twitched like flower petals in the night air.

“It’s already done. The village is already gone.”

The memory rode itself out in the present and faded slowly.

Guilt washed over her and she cried all for a new reason. She had been the catalyst for Sun Wukongs fury. She had been the decider to his want of destruction. Peaches may not have killed them, may have had a decade to realize that what had happened wasn’t her fault, but Wukong had done it in her name. He had erased that village and all its people like a cartographer reshapes a map. To all the rest of the world, their had never been a village in the shadow of Flower fruit mountain. Not a foundation, not a brick, not even a spare hair, was left of humanity there. Instead it had been cleared as if a fire had swept through. Peaches had seen it on one occasion when Wukong had been persuaded to show her. She had needed closure. Needed the peace.

Once she had healed she had been told her village was gone. She had been given a sweet lie- that Wukong had gone back and the villagers related to the drunk had been ransacking her house to see where she kept the money or any spare wine.

When Wukong had shown up demanding they answer to the crime committed in her home, they had attacked. Wukong had enacted a king's justice as was his right. He had told the remaining villagers to leave- to never set foot upon his domain again for the lawlessness that had been enacted upon their neighbor.

It had taken two years for her to be able to relax whenever he came in smelling of fire and iron. It had taken a few years more for her to remember what Macaque had said when he had pressed snow to her face.

They were the same little monkeys they had been before. But now they had less innocence when they pressed into her face for kisses, when they asked to tangle and cuddle limbs. They insisted she stay in the bedchamber and not move to her own separate room.

It had taken getting used to movement beside her as a hand tugged her hair, or a tale twined her waist. Or a leg curled with hers or hands holding her face. Sometimes in the dark Mac would press his head to her back, using her as a pillow. Wukong would yank her in when he thought her too sleepy to remember and whisper all the things he loved about her.

It would have been sweet. It was touching in a way. If not for the way they revealed themselves. If not for that memory and what she knew now had come after.

It had not taken too long after that for her to start realizing that, though Wukong had saved her, neither of them had any regret of what happened. Neither of them was going to let her go.

When she asked about it or started talking of missing her home- the simple living, the ability to really on herself and choose for herself- Wukong would laugh and launch into one of his tales. He would brush her hair with his claws, run his face against hers and try and deflect her attention to new things.

Macaque, if Wukong was absent, would let her talk. Usually it happened when he asked her to brush his fur or he in turn asked to brush her hair. Peaches thought, just a bit, that the reason Mac was better at listening was for all the ears he had. Each time however, when she got to the part about how this had been her fault, he would stop mid way through a braid or pin and pull her in. Macaque would kiss the tears from her eyes, would press himself close to her chest.

“It was Never your fault Peaches.”

“I remember. I remember he went back- you said he—“

“Hush love you’ll grow hysterical. What Wukong did was justified- he defended you.”

“He killed.”

“I have killed.” He kissed her temple, gentle in his reprimands. He wouldn’t try and brush her words beneath a rug like Wukong. Instead he gave her a smile as wide as the crescent moon. “Let’s finish your hair and get you dressed. We can go see the baby’s, I know how you love the baby’s.” Baby monkeys were her weakness. They had been what led to her loving Mac before she had known he was a demonic warlord.

Peaches rubbed at her eyes and stood, the sorrow in her heart heavy still but the tears at least had stopped. Now she was just tired. Tired and cold and wanting to escape the feeling of it all. So she shed her courtly attire. All the clips and jewels and baubles and bits felt heavy. She placed them within the box at her armoire, then loosened her hair from its bindings. Jade pins, pearl necklaces, golden bracelets with bells of silver (Wukong loved this the best of all) all glimmered back in the firelight.

A pretty price.

She snapped the box closed.

On nights like this, she wanted to wear nothing but her smock, her simple clothing, and bury herself as far as she could go into the bed she shared with her husbands.

It was more of a pit set into the ground, circular in nature. Silken pillows, red sheets and a hoard of anything plush and furred had been thrown into the pit. It was also a snug place to bury herself within and one of the few things she didn’t feel resentment too right away. When the outside felt too bright and she couldn’t go about the mountain to her usual quiet places, she would retire here. To burrow, to bury, to hide.

Peach fell back into the pit of blankets and pillows and pulled herself beneath a fur of some striped monster Macaque had skinned and gifted to her. Tonight the bitter truth was hard to swallow and did circles in her head.

You did this. You caused this. You killed them. This is your fault.

She closed her eyes and hoped … hoped for what might be the worst thing yet. Her husband's return.

A time later she stirred. Something was in her room- was walking to the bed. Peaches felt a flutter of fear before hands reached into her hiding place and simply slid her out.

“Hello darling.” The silken voice belonged to none other than Macaque. His clawed hands entwined around her waist, his teeth nipping at her ear. “You are up late.”

“Does that mean it will be a late morning?” Wukongs voice came from the other side of the room. Peaches could see the ginger monkey removing armor from his shoulders and stretching. As the darker brother kept making a snack of her shoulder, Peaches noticed that the shine of Wukongs paldrom was dimmed. Something black coated the golden imprint of sunbursts across its armored surface. “I love late mornings! Means more time together.”

Blood?

“Peaches?” She turned her head, trying to see Mac. He had left off nipping her skin. A hand came away from her wrist and tipped her chin, forcing her to stare directly into his violet eyes. “What has upset you?”

Everything. Myself. Wukong. You. It was that simple question that set her sorrow to flowing again. She was confused, upset, and she wanted comfort. The only ones who could give her comfort were the very ones who caused her distress.

A vicious cycle.

The pillows behind her sagged. Wukongs hands were more aggressive in their touches, turning her about to stare into her face. He noted the tears, the bruising beneath her eyes. His lip curled in anger.

“Has someone upset you?” Wukong asked. He seemed ready to stand again, to grab his armor and step out into the night. “I will drag them here to give an apology. You name them and I will fetch them.”

Peaches shook her head.

“Just ….” You killing the villagers, Macaque telling me plainly that it was for the best, and my own head making me relive that night of events. Over and over and over.

“…. Myself.”

His face softened as he chirped a reassurance, pressing his nose to hers. Macaque peppered her in gentle and butterfly soft kisses to the back of her neck. The three fell back into the nest, limbs entwined and hands holding. Macaque had Peaches face buried in his chest as she sobbed silently. He cooed. He whispered how everything would be right as rain in the morning. His hands ran through her hair and messaged her scalp. Wukong held his Peaches, pressing her back to his chest in a solid wall against the world outside. He lavished her in praises and compliments, sometimes getting carried away and talking about himself until his brother would remind him with a flick to his forehead that it was their Peaches he should be reassuring.

And through it all, through this twisted and tangled weave of limbs and fur and warmth and sorrow, Peaches felt love. It grew in this dark place still, wanting to thrive. But how could it?

Still she fell asleep, lashes sparkled with tears and her heart lighter. One could only be sad so long in the wake of such waves of attention. Wukongs and Macaques love was the only solution to this ailment they had inflicted upon her, and she, the addict, swallowing the medicine that would give her release.

[lathalea]

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening. 

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he  added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again. 

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him. 

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes. 

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together. 

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts. 

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears. 

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment. 

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Masterlist 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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[anthracite-writes]

Obey Me! Dating Headcanons (SFW)

ft. Datable sides (excluding Luke) - SEPRATE

NOTE: These are just my personal headcanons for the side datables I’ve had for the 3 years I’ve been playing this game and what I think I think would fit them, if some of the headcanons are may be very OOC - apologies in advance.

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 !!: What it’s like dating the side datables + love languages NOT PROOF READ - APOLOGIES IF THERE’S TYPOS OR SPELLING ERRORS!!!

𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓸

Love Language? Quality Time and Physical Touch [and maybe Gift giving.]

Tries to spend time with you despite his extremely busy schedule - even if it means just a small greeting when he sees you walking in the halls of RAD or in the streets of the Devildom.

Small interactions as basic as glimpses when you two pass each other or a wave mean so much to him.

Tries his best to keep you out of the public eye, he's a noble figure in the Devildom being the future king and all - Diavolo doesn't want you getting caught up in gossip or any danger

I would feel like he would sneak out of his castle when he fully knows he has a mountain of paperwork waiting in his study office or even royal duties to attend to.

The scolding from Barbatos is all worth if it was to spend just a couple minutes with you

But... not after a bit of running away and avoiding Barbatos, this is where the Physical touch comes on.

He loves the thrill of a good chase, especially with you.

Once Barbatos spots the two of you, Dia would grab your hand and start running no matter where you are.

It can be in the middle of town, the grounds of RAD, or the halls of the House of Lamentation - he's running with your hand in his, laughing and smiling from the adrenaline.

Hiding with you against walls or in cramp spaces - having you pressed against his body and holding you close to him as he peered around corners or trying to stay hidden from Barbatos.

Oh no, Barbatos caught you and now is dragging Dia back to the castle to do the mountain of paper work and/or his royal duties.

As he's getting dragged away he's looking over his shoulder at you as he smiles and waves.

Hell, man has a small smile on his face as he hangs his head down while Barbatos has him kneeling as he got scolded, just happy to have your touch and memories of being together even if it's such a short amount of time.

When he does get time off and free time in his extremely busy schedule - that's when he pull out the little notebook he keeps of date ideas he wants to do with you.

The dates go one of two ways; over the top or simple.

Over the top dates? Oh he buys out whole fancy restaurants, guards around you two 24/7 [at a distance], carnival dates, reserves stores out for just you two to go shopping and he will pay for everything [even if you try to convince him not to], takes you to exclusive venues in the Devildom for all your favourite things and interests.

Simple dates? Picnics, Tea in the castle's garden, long walks around the castle grounds.

You want to go even simpler? okay. He loves it when you're just around him. Stay with him during those late nights in his study office when he's working away, just your company is enough for him to be at ease and maybe he'll let you sit on his lap as he works.

When he can make time with you he'll text you, video calling you at night when he's working or when he's about to go to bed so you two can talk about whatever till one of you fall asleep on the call.

If you fall asleep on the call, Dia would say on the call, admiring you peacefulness when you sleep, wishing you were there beside him in his bed.

Calls you 'sweetheart' or 'my crowned one' or 'little royal'

Fav. places to kiss? Top of your head and hands

𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓼

Love Language? Quality time and Acts of Service to the MOON

Mans so busy being Diavolo’s butler so spending time with you is an absolute delight for him.

If he sees you at the corner of his eye when he's by Diavolo's side [like he always is], Barbs would look over at you longingly.

If you meet his gaze, trust me - he would give you a soft smile and a settle ways, his cheeks turning red.

When he has a light work day, he'll most likely invite you to the castle to spend time with him while he works, often apologizing that he doesn't spend enough time with you.

If you offer to help him with any of his duties, he will turn you down time after time

But with enough pressure, Barbatos will allow it just let him do the heavy lifting.

Scratch that, he WILL do like 99.9% of the job while he lets you like... hold a feather duster or sort out the mail.

Once done all his tasks for the day, he'll prepare you snacks and something to drink for all you hard work.

Would use this down time he has to catch up with you over snacks and drinks in the Demon Lord's Garden.

When he get a day off, oh he dedicates his day off all to you.

He'll go one walks with you as the two of chat.

Dates consist of going to tea shops, bakeries, picnics - or just anything you want to do for the day, he'll happily follow you around.

just being around you and seeing you happy makes his day better.

If you're busy on his rare days off, he'll help you.

No, nor only help - He'll do whatever you had to do that day.

Happily will prepare snacks for you - even if it's just tea or something to drink.

He's used to serving Diavolo, so let him spoil you with his services - He'll be your bulter boyfriend.

Keeps his hands off you unless you ask him [ex. hugs, holding hands, cuddles, etc.]

As much as you insist that he can do things on his own accord with you, he still wishes for you to either request for it before he does anything

Loves having sleeping video calls with you when he couldn't spend a second with you.

Listens to you as you talk about your day till you fall asleep on camera.

constantly thinking about using his control over time to spend more time with you, maybe even freezing time to spend time with you. [but it might fuck up the timeline and he's not risking that]

may have rewind time one or many times during conversations with you because he messed up something.

calls you either by your name or some variation of your name, not very big on cutsy pet names.

Fav places to kiss? Hands, cheeks and lips.

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷

Love Language? Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch.

man is literally a writer, he has a way with words - source? Trust me, bro

Though, his attempts of flirting can come off a bit awkward at times but it’s cute so let’s forgive him.

Definitely morning texts telling you to live this day to the fullest, you can do anything if you put your mind to it, reminds you to hydrated and eat - list goes on, and it’s a very long list of things he wants to tell you first thing in the morning.

When you see him, he's already greeting you - telling you he was just thinking about you and asking you how you've been

Def. makes the first moves for physical affection [ie. hugs, kisses, hand-holding]

Happily accepts hugs from you and other forms of physical affection

Often lets you hang out when he's writing to keep him company.

During his writing breaks or he hit a wall with his storyline - he'll come over to you and lay his head down on your shoulder or lap, letting you play with his hair and hand or caress his face while he steps back from his writing

Will let you read the transcripts of his newest book and give a reader's point-of-view, wanting you to be honest with him with your criticisms.

Love it when you come over to him when he's working away one his novels and you just wrap your arms around his neck from behind and rest your head on his shoulders. He will MELT right in to your embrace as he answers any questions you have for him [book related or not]

Let's you get the first read of the published copy of his most recent novel

Tries to keep you out of media's eyes due to his popularity of his writing in all three realms.

Is extremely honest about how he's feeling, he would never want to his anything from you - especially regarding his emotions.

That being said - when he's jealous, he'll tell you.

Lays there late at night in his bed just thinking about you for sure.

Writes short stories or poetry when he misses or thinks about you and shares his works with you.

Goes straight to you if he runs into any tech problems with his D.D.D., tablets, laptop, list goes on

You don't even have to know anything about tech - most likely he's forgotten how to boot up his laptop of he deleted an app on his D.D.D.

Calls you 'my dove', 'little angel', or 'my muse'.

Fav. places to kiss? Forehead, eyelids, lips, and nose. [get it? they're all ANGEL kisses-]

𝓢𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓶𝓸𝓷

Love Language? Quality time for sure. [mans hella lonely tbh, being alive for over 200 years or so.]

I feel like he's fairly old-fashioned with his loving - by that I mean he just wants to be around you every second of the day, enjoying the small moments in life with you and only you.

Wants to be the only one to hold your gaze.

Hates it when you're not around, he feels lost or like he's missing a part of you.

He understands you're your own person and you have your own things to do - he doesn't want you to think you need to be bound to him nor does he want you to think he's bound to you.

Easily forgets important dates such as your relationship anniversaries or birthday.

but he does set reminders on his calendar to remind himself about said dates.

Occasionally gets jealous when you spend time with other people such as the brothers but would never make it known.

Def. a lot of human world dates - it's the only place where he can truly be alone with you.

Dates are fairly normal when you two are in public in the human world.

But in private and away from human eyes - it's enchanting... no literally. Takes you on a beautiful picnic he set up with floating lights held by magic and food he bought [thank god for that]

Loves making magical items for you which often has some kind of use to contact him when you two are apart.

Loves it when you take an interest in his Sorcerer side.

Often showing you enchantments, spells, and curses he's been working on.

Love it when you two spend time reading together - he'd be reading up on new spells for him to try using to become more powerful while you read whatever you want to read.

Would happily teach you magic and take you under his wing for becoming a Sorcerer - that means you'll be around him more.

Def goes easy on you, guiding you step by step of the way on your way to becoming a great Sorcerer like him.

When casting spells, he'll take that to seize the moment closer to you, taking your wrists gently in his hands - guiding your hands as he tell you; 'now repeat after me...'

Probably uses spells and enchantments he knows to tease you in a playful manner.

Def. uses curses and enchantments on people who even look at you the wrong way.

Calls you 'little sorcerer' or just by your name.

Fav. place to kiss? Lips and hands.

[moonmaiden1996]

Taming the Beast- We’re Here For Our Wife Part 3

What do you think? Please leave a comment 

Despite your father being the Maester of Dragons you had only ever seen dragons from a distance dancing gently in the heaven above Kings Landing, your father had sent you home before you could even venture into the Dragon Pit. You had hated your father for that, though he had sent you away for want of a son who could tame the dragons like him. That had not been the reason. A much more dangerous reason had forced your father's hand—two, to be precise. The romanticised notion of dragons was now lost to you; seeing the creature descend upon your family's home left no awe or amazement, just icy coldness.

The words from their last raven are still burning clearly in your head. Hurry to home to us, our love; we cannot wait to start our duties as your loving husbands. Your faithful dragons, Daemon and Aemond. Whether they were playing a twisted joke on you or truly thought you would welcome this sick match, you couldn't say. Once as a foolish girl roaming the hall of Red Keep, you might have gushed over such a dramatic story, but now it was terrifying. Watching not just one Targaryen but two lay claims over you and invade your lands was frightening, even for a Lady Beast Tamer with an army of Shadowcat's at your command.

Silently, you endured the cries of the winged beast circled the city. On the wind, you could hear the fright from the Keep. It made you feel weak, worthless even, you should be down there facing off against the covetous dragons who sought to steal you away, yet you were here, hidden away along the ridgeline of the mountain that surrounded your family's Keep. Your pack of Shadowcat's standing guard over you. Watching as dragons came into land, Craven gave a deep growl as the dragon's bulky body dominated the castle. Softly you reached out a shaky hand to soothe the ferocious Shadowcat. The predator nuzzled closer, shielding you from the harsh wind as tears began streaming down your face as you waited, repeating your family's words repeatedly in your head.

We endure, subdue, and conquer.

We.

Endure.

Subdue.

Conquer.

You repeated them as you mounted Craven; clicking your tongue, you commanded the beast forward, racing him towards your home.

Xxxxxxxxx

"I am sorry for your loss, but we have come for our bride," Daemon smirked as he stood in front of his dragon. Relaxed like he wasn't stealing you away from your mourning family. The years had been kind; he still looked as he had been before his exile, rugged and roguish.

'You could barely hear the Prince's soft tones, but your mother's snarl unfurled on the wind. 'We will not tell you again, leave.'

"My good Lady. We were truly saddened at your husband's death; he was a loyal Lord who bared his duty well. He will be greatly missed. Nevertheless, we remain focused on our duty; the securement of our dear wife, who is seemingly missing as she would surely come out to embrace her dear husband. So may I inquire where you have hidden her away?" Aemond purred softly, his hair longer now, gone had the softness that once clung to his features; even from a distance, you could see the chiselled gold of his skin, only marred by the pale sliver of a scar hidden by the leather patch.

'Leave.' Despite everything, your mother and grandmother remained unflinching at the sight of the dragon.

"Give us our wife", Aemond snapped, curling forward, all softness vanishing.

Daemon gave a strained smile as he grew weary of this defiance, "Forgive the Prince. We have travelled through the night to get here. As you can imagine, when our wife did not arrive in Kings Landing, and there was no response to our ravens, we were understandably worried." The smile did flatter or change, but even at this distance, you could see the darkness in his eyes hardening.

"Worried? You attempt to force my daughter away from us in the wake of her father's death. A death you no doubt caused for your desire for her. Your obsessions were enough to separate our family. To confine her here so as not to get entangled in your Targaryen desire.'’ Your mother sneered.

'Come mother, may I call you mother?" Aemond lowly rumbled, "After all, we are family now... Do you think I would spill the blood of the family? I am a dutiful son, Prince and now husband. I would never hurt my beloved like that. But I agree that your husband's death is suspicious; a grave threat looms over your family. One that we can protect her and your family from... Something you cannot do. Without your Beast Master husband, who is to protect you?"

'Me! I will tell you the same thing my grandmother and mother told you. Leave.' You spat as you inched out of the darkness.

Xxxxxx

At that moment, there was no doubt that the Prince's minds were perfectly intuned. You looked like some ethereal creature. Your hair is a mess in the wind astride a hulking Shadowcat, a killing machine made of pure muscle at your command. You were truly now a woman; awe spread across their pinched features. Fleshy thighs flash in the morning's dim light, your dress bunched around your waist, uncaring and unfazed for the decorum befitting a Lady. How Aemond yearned to inch your skirts just an inch higher, letting his fingertips kneed that flesh before slipping into your glistening core. Daemon's eyes followed the form of your body, the swell that filled your dress, your heaving chest, the delicate incline of your neck so bare, waiting to be marked. His little wife, future queen, so elegant riding the beast that roamed untamed beyond the wall, yet you had them subdued and devoted to you, just like your dragons. You would look like divine riding him; your head was thrown back as you screamed. Soon.

From the darkness, snarling cats emerged, teeth glinting murderous in the light. They were so silent they were honestly impressed. Better than some bumbling army clanging around. And all rallied around their lady is life.

'Magnificent.' Aemond purred, watching as the form of yours now stood before him. 'You are a brave wife to stand so close to a raging dragon…they might try to eat you up; you are rather delicious.'

'Then you would have made a wasted journey, and I will be free of troubling pretender husbands. Leave.' You gave a low whistle, and dark beasts advanced. White teeth barred.

"I am afraid we cannot leave without you, dear wife.' Daemon smirked, no hint of fear wavering in his cocky voice.

'I am not your wife. A proxy marriage means nothing when are no exchanges before the gods." You snarled.

"I disagree. It was before the king and court; in their eyes, we are one. You are now a Targaryen and a princess but do not worry. To ensure we do not offend your beloved Gods, we will exchange words and oaths before them. "Now, I am sure your little pack can tear us down. But remember, teeth and claws are no match for the dragon fire. If we fall, our dragons will lay waste to everything it sees. You, your mother, your grandmother, the people entrusted onto you as heir of this great Keep." Daemon purred.

"Men, women…children," Aemond added, sheathing his sword, and cupping his hands behind his back.

His stunning wife, commanding the likes of Shadowcat's a fearsome woman, but a woman no less with a woman softness and sensibilities. A woman sees no need for pointless death where a man might allow them to destroy his Keep for pride's sake. Rational and calm. But you had that fire within you, waiting for them to harness.

'Now, dear wife, Kings Landing awaits and our future life together.' Two golden hands are reaching out to you.

You hesitate, eyes lingering on your family and finally resting on your Shadowcats. Their growl echoed through the silence. You pause, only for a moment longer, before you accept the two golden hands. Hungry violet eyes burning into you.

Do they have a little chat before they get to Kings Landing or just straight in? Smut next chapter? What do you think? Please leave a comment. Do we keep the shadowcats?

[jodjuya]

Coming to Harvest Moon from Stardew Valley is certainly an interesting experience.

Trying out 'Tale of Two Towns'. Never played any Harvest Moon titles before now, but I've got a couple hundred Stardew hours under my belt.

I'm tickled pink that you can accost the wildlife. It's just so funny being able to snatch up a random duck from the river and then yeet it at a bear while it (the duck) is busy making anger emotes at you. 🤣

I'm sad you can't steal the wildlife though. Can't put a duck in my pocket. 😭

But I can put a boulder as big as my oversized chibi head into my pocket just fine. I guess boulders don't fight back as hard as waterfowl do...

I hit "save draft" on this post, and THIS is the very first thing I see on my dash. How serendipitous. 🤣

It's so funny that the farmer responds to all dialogue with a musical note. My man out here whistling and beeping like R2-D2. Non-verbal King.

Only a single turnip seed to start my farming career with. At least they gave me a ripe field to harvest right off the bat...

But I don't get paid from the shipping bin right away, so I have no cash to buy seeds. Probably should have tried to sell my crops directly to a store. Is that possible I wonder...

I enjoy how much sheer mobility this farmer has. Goes up and down these mountains leaping over every obstacle like he's Super Mario

Catching lots of insects on my walk. Wonder if I can sell them in the shipping bin... 🤔

Found bamboo. Wonder if I can feed a wild panda with it... 🤔

I leveled up via picking up grasshoppers and putting them into my pocket 😂

Haha, I can sell all of the insects I picked up, and the fish and crabs I caught with my bare hands. Excellent!

Ah! So all my other starter seeds were just in the storage chest! Hooray!

Did leveling up actually do anything to my character? Do I have statistics or something? 🤔

The goddess of vegetables: "you're now on a Mission From God to win the monthly cooking competition!"

Grrr. There are message board requests for literally every single thing I gathered on the mountain yesterday and then shipped for cash... 🤦🏻‍♂️

Oh well, at least I got $3k out of it and can put that cash towards seeds...

The seed shop is closed on Tuesdays... Eat a bag of dicks, old man... 😒

Dr Ayame is a dominatrix.

Having the Town Hall give you directions to different people's houses is a feature I FUCKING LOVE!

Oh okay wow, fertilizers do not work how I expected!

Found some honeycomb. It says to "put it into a hive to get honey". Where do I get a hive from? 🤔

I really really really REALLY wish my stupid farmer would stop reeling in shock every time I make him do hard work. Stop interrupting my furrows you stupid piece of shit!

[lady-rose-moon]

I heard you were looking for requests, so... Here I am! 😁💕

What about Y/N finding out that she's pregnant again and she has to tell Loki - and of course Haven. 🥺🥰 Something super fluffy. 🥰

Please and thank you! 🧡

Together || T.S!Loki x Reader ||

A/N: thank you for the request, lovely!! So sorry that I took so long! I hope you enjoy it!

My Main Masterlist

Cabin in the Mountains || TS!Loki x Reader ||

Pregnancy seemed to come less naturally after Haven, every time you tried to conceive with Thomas, it always ended with you crying over a negative test. Especially after Odin fell into the Odinsleep and Thor refused the throne - making the throne fall to Loki alone. 

Something had to be wrong with you, you decided after you returned to the cabin when Odin awoke eighteen months after he collapsed in the main hall of Asgard’s palace. Something had to be wrong with you for not being able to conceive as quickly as you had conceived Haven. Thomas seemed to be so much calmer than you in this situation, more understanding with the stress of having a toddler and the move to becoming Queen Regent of Asgard when Loki became King. 

Still, the God of Mischief spent night after night tangled in the sheets with you, following your wishes of having another baby. 

However, Loki had been away now for a fortnight, having to return to Asgard because Odin wished to discuss a matter with both his sons. The sorrowful farewell had broken your heart but at least you had your daughter there by your side, a memory of Loki and such a sweet child. 

It had been a fortnight since you had seen your husband and it was starting to show. You spent more time with Haven, wrapped up in the blankets of the master bedroom than out in the warm summer weather. You relied on your daughter for comfort while Loki was away and you anxiously waited for your God to return.

Another day began for you and still there was no sign of Loki returning. Your stomach twisted with sudden nausea and you barely made it to the bathroom before you emptied your stomach into the toilet, gripping the sat desperately as you gasped for breath. Waves of nausea crashed over you and you whined brokenly,  holding your stomach in pain. This felt familiar somehow, an ache deep in your body, a memory of a feeling you’d felt years ago.

With hope in your heart, you decided to head into town with Haven, showing the toddler around the town and stopping at a coffee shop before heading to a pharmacy and grabbing a few pregnancy tests. You needed to be sure, you needed to know whether what you thought was right.  

When you got home, you smiled as Haven run into the living room, a happy grin on her mouth as she jumped onto the sofa. “Mummy, mummy!” she called brightly, kneeling on the sofa with a grin as she looked over the back to look at her mother, “come play with me!”

You stared down at the bag in your hand, deliberating between getting your theory confirmed or playing with your daughter. In that moment, Haven was so much more important than any kind of pregnancy test would ever be. Setting down the bag on the countertop, you smiled and strode over to your daughter, picking her up and settling her on your lap. You held out your palm and it lit up with the beautiful forest green of your seiðr, catching Haven’s attention almost instantly. 

The little child had always been mesmerised by the sight of seiðr and wished to know all that she could about the magic that she had along with her parents. She sat on your lap watching as your seiðr formed many different animals all playing around in the air above your hands, laughing and reaching out when a cat broke from the formation to rub against her face affectionately.

Haven laughed and looked up at her mother with pure love in her eyes, her enjoyment only increasing when you changed the animals to an illusion of you, Loki and Haven. The child smiled adoringly at the illusion, her hands reaching out to her father with a childish grin. “I miss papa,” Haven whispered softly, her eyes flicking from the illusion to you behind her, “when will he be back?”

“Soon, my little sunshine,” you replied, brushing your nails through her hair comfortingly as she sagged against you with an adorable sigh, kicking her legs impatiently. “Your father will come home when everything is sorted with your grandfather,” you whispered to her, lifting her into your arms and walking down to her bedroom, “now, it’s naptime.”

Haven whined and shook her head, tears welling up in her emerald eyes as her lip trembled. The little girl obviously wished to sleep with you but you needed to see what the pregnancy test said so you needed to get her down for a nap. Walking into Haven’s room, you laid her down in her toddler bed and knelt beside it with a soft smile. “Sleep little one,” you whispered, kissing her forehead and gently brushing her hair away from her face, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It took ten minutes for the child to settle and allow sleep to take her and you stayed by her side loyally, whispering stories to her and shining magic above her to act as a lullaby before she fell asleep. Now alone, you took a deep breath and left the child’s room, heading over to the plastic bag on the counter. 

You took two boxes into the bathroom and used them before sliding down the counter, waiting for the two minutes to pass. 

Those were the longest two minutes in your life. You thought of all the bright things that could happen when another baby is brought into your lives. Thomas would be so happy to have another baby, Frigga would be overjoyed to have another grandchild to play with and Thor - well, he’s not exactly allowed to babysit but he’s a cool uncle when supervised. You thought of your stomach swelling, thought of Thomas walking around with this infant in his arms, you thought of how your family would feel much more complete. 

The shrill ring of the timer broke you from your thoughts and hesitantly, you picked up one of the pregnancy tests and gazed down straight at the stick with two lines. Shocked, tears welled up in your eyes and you dropped the pregnancy test. Pregnant. 

You smiled ear to ear and picked yourself up off the floor while your hand fell to your stomach. Suddenly, the roaring thunder of the Bifrost startled you out of your thoughts and you grinned as you raced through the cabin to swing the front door open. 

There he was. Loki. Back and safe. You released a broken sob and ran down the steps to jump into his arms. The God’s arms wrapped tightly around your back and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You sobbed as you held him tighter, nuzzling into his neck as you tried to calm your breathing.

He was back. Your husband was finally back. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” you bawled into his shoulder as his gentle hands caressed down your spine.

“I promised I would come back, pet,” Loki whispered lovingly in your ear. He helped you back into the cabin, his touch grounding and comforting for you. He was back and already the ache in your heart had evaporated in favour of the oceans of love you held for the prince in front of you. 

You heard the small pattering of feet before you saw a whoosh of blurred light and heard Loki release a laugh of delight as he fell on his back with Haven clinging to his body. The small girl was crying and happily chanting ‘daddy’ as she kissed his face. You helped Loki to his feet, smiling as he cradled Haven in his arms expertly.

“I have something to tell you,” you whispered to the both of them, looking over to the living area with the roaring fire and you conjured three glasses of hot chocolate on the coffee table. You guided your husband and daughter to the living area and quietly sat down, smiling when you saw how desperate Loki looked to know what you had to say. 

Haven sat on Loki’s lap eagerly, her sparkling emerald eyes trained on you lovingly. “What is it, mummy?” she asked in her tired yet overjoyed voice, her body practically buzzing with happiness over the return of her father. 

“Haven, you know how we talked about you soon being an older sibling?” you asked, seeing Loki tense up in front of you, his intelligent brain firing with reasons before he realised and you could see the moment you realised because his eyes snapped to you, tears shining in his eye. 

“Well…” you continued with a small smile, biting your lip before resting a hand against your flat stomach, “mummy is going to be giving you a baby sibling soon.”

Haven gasped, her eyes shining with excitement before she jumped off the sofa and ran around the coffee table shouting ‘i’m gonna be a big sister!’ before she stopped in front of you with a bright smile, “when will the baby come, mummy? Tomorrow? In a week?”

You laughed softly and stroked her ebony hair. You saw a lot of Loki in how she looked, she was his mirror image and soon, you hoped your next child would be the same or a small sliver of hope held out that your next will look like you more. “They’ll come when they’re ready, little sunshine,” you whispered to her before lifting her up, seeing the worry in Loki’s eyes immediately before you playfully glared at him and he backed down with a fond smile.

You carried Haven to her bedroom and laid her down in her bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Go back to sleep, my little sunshine,” you whispered tenderly to your child, smiling when Loki knelt beside you at your child’s bedside.

“Will I have to share my bedroom with the baby?” Haven asked as she rolled onto her side and gazed at her mummy and daddy.

“For a while,” Loki replied with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to Haven’s head and gently pushing hair out of her face, “then we’ll add a new room to our cabin and that will be their room. Will you be a good big sister?”

“I will! I promise!” Haven grinned, her eyes shining with such joy she seemed that she might explode if she got anymore delight.

Loki smiled lovingly and helped you to your feet, whispering a soft ‘goodnight Haven’ before walking out of the room. The God left the door slightly ajar incase Haven needed either of you. 

Once you were in the silence of your bedroom, Loki dropped to his knees and pressed a kiss to your flat stomach. “A baby,” he whispered tenderly, green magic swirling around him, transforming him from Loki to Thomas, “another baby. You are truly a wonder, Y/N Sharpe.”

You laughed and ran your fingers through his curls, smiling at the contented smile on his face at the reassurance of your love. “Our family is growing again, Thomas,” you whispered quietly, smiling when he looked up into his eyes, “we will continue to do this together.”Thomas melted at your gentle words, his thumb gently stroking against your flat stomach. “Together.”

Main tags:

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique

[raapija]

how many concerts have you gone to and which one was your fave???? 👀💖

Oooohh, I've been to a few... 😌

I've been to a couple big summer festivals, so this is not even all, because I've seen some really obscure shit against my will when my friends wanted to see them 😭😭😭

(Stayin' Alive was a charity live concert that was streamed online during lockdown)

JVG x2

Eppu Normaali x2

Dingo

Michael Monroe x2

Kaija Koo x3

Olavi Uusivirta x4

Yölintu

Beast in Black x2

The Rasmus

HIM

Ville Valo & Agents

J. Karjalainen

Don Johnson Big Band

Paperi T

Portion Boys x2

Stam1na x6 (+stayin' alive)

Kaseva

Maj Karma

Pariisin Kevät

The Offspring

The 69 Eyes

Children of Bodom

Popeda x2

Thirty Seconds to Mars (against my will 💀)

Kotiteollisuus x2

Stratovarius

Sonata Arctica x3

Battle Beast x2

Mokoma x2 (+stayin' alive)

Apocalyptica x2 (+stayin' alive)

Klamydia

Uriah Heep

CMX

Turmion Kätilöt

Waltteri Torikka

Lenni-Kalle Taipale

Niilon Biitti

Anssi Kela

Happoradio

Käärijä x2 (+with joker out)

Iron Maiden

Joker Out

Metallica x2 (72 Seasons: No Repeat Weekend)

Five Finger Death Punch

Bruce Springsteen

My favorites are Metallica and The Boss simply because those are once-in-a-lifetime kinda gigs. And the Metallica double-weekend was awesome, because I went there with my big brother and that's always cool. I also went to the Iron Maiden gig with him ! Super cool shows and I love both the bands, so 😌🙏

Bruce is one of my all time favorite PEOPLE in the world and getting to see him live in my home country ?? Insane. And the show was incredible with the whole E-Street Band and all the people in the stadium singing along... ahhh TAKE ME BACK THERE 😭😭😭❤️❤️

Also, of course, Stam1na. They are my boys. My sweet babes. My favorite long haired guys. (+Kake with his bald head ❤️)

Their music has helped me through tough times and it's always a way for me to find comfort. The lyrics, the composition, the journeys they take you on? Insane.

AND THE BEST GOD DAMN LIVE BAND IN FINLAND!!! 🔥🔥🔥🤘🤘 Last time I went to see them, I got whipped in the EYES by their guitarist's dripping wet hair for the whole set and I loved every second of it ❤️

+They're all so so hot. Like. This is my dream man. Get me a long haired, tattooed, vegan, heavy metal MAN 😭😍

The video is one of my favorite things ever, because they were hyping this song so much and then fucked up the start 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Did we surprise you? We did!"

"We surprised even ourselves."

Käärijä is also always very fun to see and his speeches between songs are actually insane. He will just say random shit and then go on 😭 Going to Helsinki to see Joker Out alone was one of my favorite trips I've ever done and the show was AMAZING and the cherry on top was Käärijä coming out there to sing Cha Cha Cha with Bojan 🫶🫶🫶

There's so many awesome bands to see live... The Offspring was cool and I got on their instagram 💀👍 Saw HIM during their farewell run, Beast In Black sporting ninja turtles masks and synchro-headbanging, Don Johnson Big Band during a beautiful summer evening on a beach, Michael Monroe climbing 20 metre high scaffolding and singing from up there while barely holding on, Olavi Uusivirta stealing my glasses and singing one of my favorite songs with them on and I could barely see him (but it was incredible), Paperi T from front row and the bass on his set was SO FUCKING LOUD I probably got ear damage from that the most out of any gig, Children of Bodom before Alexi passed 💔, The Rasmus singing the Ghostbusters song, getting a pick from the bass player of Uriah Heep, Apocalyptica killing everyone dead with In Hall of the Mountain King, CMX doing a rare live show and it was an ethereal experience, Lenni-Kalle Taipale doing an insane jazz piano set and taking his shirt off to play Stormskärs Maja, J. Karjalainen singing his biggest hits.... SO MANY MEMORIES ❤️

[applebloomer1]

To cross, how long have you been serving nightmare? And what's your favorite memory with your friends?😸

(This one is so long, I'm sorry.)

Cross had been walking through the castle, on his way to the dining hall for breakfast. Nightmare, still a little drowsy, lazily followed his every step. Cross paused when the message appeared, and Nightmare nearly bumped into him because of it. The king narrowed his eye. "They're still pestering you?" He growled.

"It's fine," Cross assured him, running his hand along one of Nightmare's slowly swinging tendrils. That made him instantly ease. Cross focused back on the message and it's questions. "How long I've been serving Nightmare... I think it must be around eight-"

"Nine years. Just past nine years," Nightmare answered for him when he miscalculated the time. Cross hadn't really been concerned about counting the days, or months, or years even. Nightmare on the other hand seemed sure to keep track. He was more sentimental about it, having showered Cross with affection whenever their anniversary came around. Cross found it ridiculously charming. Nothing made him swoon faster than when Nightmare actually tried to be romantic.

Cross snapped himself from the thoughts, realizing he had a small blush dusting his face. "Picking a favorite memory I have with my friends is difficult. We're so close-knit that nearly every day we manage to make a new memory to cling to," He admitted, smiling softly as he thought about his friends. How do I pick just one? He opted just to pick a specific memeory for each close friend.

"I remember when Killer and I were the only two here. We used to train every night. I started developing this strategy to knock people off their blasters by jumping in a zigzaging pattern," He recalled with a chuckle of amusement. "He started calling me Criss-Cross after that. At the time I thought it would grow to annoy me, but it never did. I actually like the nickname," He admitted.

Nightmare listened in and subtly smiled at Cross's reminiscing while they walked.

"Me and Dust have our own time together every now and then. Sometimes when-" He glanced at Nightmare, hoping he wouldn't take his following words the wrong way. "-We feel the need to be away from everyone else, we head up to the crypt together. Unlike the others, we can enjoy just silently sitting beside one another. He'll drink, and I'll read. We hardly even talk to each other, but it always feels nice to just have that calm company," He explained, voice bordering on a purr.

"I am calm company!" Nightmare complained. Cross made sure he walked a step ahead of Nightmare so he wouldn't notice the way he sarcastically rolled his eyes at the claim. "I keep calm all the time. Unless I'm annoyed about something." Which is all the time.

Cross continued on. "My favorite memory of Horror is honestly when he stopped us all from attacking Ghost when we first found her in the library," He said, remembering the way they had all drawn their weapons aside from Horror. "It's not as personal as the others, but it was adorable watching him manage to form a connection with an actual mountain lion. You could tell right off the bat that he loved her to death," He chuckled.

"And now you all love Ghost to death," Nightmare mused.

"So do you," Cross replied. Nightmare looked away, which just meant Cross was right. "I think overall, the best memory I have of any of them would be that time on the frozen lake. We had only just met Dust and Horror, yet when we started playing on that ice, we all just clicked. All of us had fun, and all of us talk about it from time to time," He said, voice soft from the amount he cared.

Nightmare tapped him with a tendril. "Don't get too lost in your thoughts. We're here," He pointed out, nodding at the dinning hall doors. Cross nodded and waved off the message so he could join his friends for breakfast.

As soon as he opened the door, Ghost affectionately tackled him.

[chronicles-of-condoria]

Escape

Entry 1. 

I’ve had many journals before; however, I have just got this one today. Fitting, because tonight is the night my life will change forever. Tonight, I escape. 

In case someone finds this journal next to a skeleton, have some context: My name is Philo Ivers and I am (at the point of writing this) a citizen of the Kingdom of Stone, aka Zulos. My sister Alexis escaped several years ago, and I promised myself that day I would too; I would join her. Therapon and Floren escaped with her. Ther’s mom was asking about him. I hope he’s all right 

Alexis has been brought back a couple times. They never seem to be able to erase her memory like the others though, she’s told me stories. It sounds so lively and nice out there. A sure change of pace from gloomy gray concrete and stone. Silence and stillness. 

In Zulos there is little choice in what role you get to play. Those who are richest work among The Twin Kings’ court. They have a bit more freedom than those lower down the ladder. If I were to stay another year, I would become a worker. I’d be given a set of tasks around the kingdom each day and would be forced to do them or face punishment, which varies in severity and on many different variables. 

No matter. Tonight I kiss this place goodbye and run for the smoke in the north. That’s where Chroma is. My friends, my family, my freedom. 

Signing off, Philo I. 

…

They exhaled, stepping towards the kitchen cabinets. Philo crouched and opened the door to one of the cabinets on the floor. Moving aside plates, he grabbed his bag.

Once he knew all the food he had so carefully packed was still there, he put his journal and pen in the backpack and zipped it shut. Their hands shook as the backpack was slung onto his shoulders. Mentally, Philo began to catalogue all the advice his sister had given him on escaping.

• Be stealthy, be quick, be crafty. • Do not leave a trail, they’ll find you.

And the most important one:

• Do not look back at the kingdom once you’re out.

He took a deep breath before blowing out the candle. Alexis had escaped in the dark, so he knew it was possible. Philo closed the cabinet door and walked to exit this tiny, cinder block “apartment”

Cautiously, he opened the door as quietly as possible and stuck his head outside. The Checker that made sure everyone was in there rooms would be a couple floors up by know, but they still needed to be careful. Philo shut the door near silently. He double checked his pockets. A multi tool in one jacket pocket, and a folded up map alongside a decoder ring in the other. That pocket was zipped, having things too valuable to loose.

Philo shuffled quietly to the end of the hall. He crept down the stairs to the entryway to the apartment complex as quickly as he could. Three flights of stairs later, they were far closer to freedom than they were a moment ago.

Although early in motion, Philo’s escape plan had gone perfect so far. They shuffled toward a window in the entryway and watched a Seeker go down an alleyway opposite of the building. No other entities-living or magic- roamed the streets at this time. Philo exited the building swiftly before darting down an alley.

Zulos, in all its maze-like construction, was still somewhat navigable if you knew how. Philo ran through alleys and snuck just out of site of Seekers and Guardsmen alike. In time, he reached the edge. He managed to duck through a whole in the first concrete wall. Now he just had to tackle the electric fence and he was free.

Philo flipped the lever on the outside of the electrical box. They pried open the lid and used the wire cutters on the multi-tool to cut several of the wires. He started to scale the fencing now it was safe.

Right before he could jump down from the top of the fence and run for the mountains, four guardsmen rounded the corner and found him.

“Halt young man!” The captain shouted. Philo pushed off the fencing. He landed on the other side and immediately started sprinting.

He ran and ran and ran. Swerving to keep his pursuers-who were a good bit behind him- guessing. He found a small sheltered dip in the ground with a dead, fallen tree covering it. Philo immediately dove into the hiding place and waited.

The gaurdsmen approached. Philo carefully flipped out the blade of his pocket knife.

“Where’d that kid go?” One asked.

Philo gripped the pocket knife tighter. I don’t want to have to hurt anybody. Then, he heard garbled speaking over a walkie talkie, but couldn’t make out what it said.

“Doesn’t matter. He was just a diversion,” the captain grumbled, “Big group escaping right now, back up needed asap. Let’s move.” In silent relief, Philo listened to the steps of the guardsmen as they left him alone. He turned his eyes to the sky as they let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Philo had never seen the sky look like this before. The harsh, rigid scheduling of Zulos had never allowed it.

Pale stars scattered over a many colored sky. The three moons casted peculiar, beautiful shadows over each other, one was pink, one was pale blue, and the last one was sort of silvery.

After a moment of rest, Philo hauled himself out of the ditch and started to walk towards the mountains. They pulled the furred hood of their jacket over his head as a chill began to set in. The wind howled and cried. The urge to look back at The Kingdom of Stone almost took Philo over. He shook his head and started walking faster. Claw-like, shadowy hands pulled on their coat and pants. Philo kept walking. He watched the puffs of his breath rise and then dissipate.

“Almost there,” He told himself. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. They scoured the sky for the smoke of Chroma. For once, not so distant. Not so lonely. Philo felt a pull. Zulos called for him.

Philo shook his head. He said through clenched teeth, “I can’t give up now.” In his mind he repeated that key rule.

Do not look back at Zulos.

They began to walk faster. The further, the lesser the pull in strength. He still felt it call. Desperate for his attention, for their surrender.

“Do not look back at Zulos,” Philo echoed,“Do not look back at Zulos.” The kingdoms grip on him loosened. He started to jog, then run, then dash for The Hidden Pass. It was so close now. He was almost there. The Hidden Pass was a canyon in between the rocky cliffs of The Guardian Mountains. As the name suggests, it is hidden by magic from Capturers, soldiers, and those who want to harm Chroma or the people residing in it. Philo slipped into the pass and hurried down. A gathering of people who had just escaped and those already residing in Chroma. By the time he had reached the end, it had to be midnight “Alexis?” Philo called out, “Alexis!” He looked around the group of people.

“Philo?” Someone asked from behind them. He turned around and saw her. Philo practically tackled his sister into a hug. “Welcome home man.” Alexis smiled.

[sarilolla]

Various Hello Puppets headcanons #2

Hello everyone, I have some more headcanons I would like to share. Again, this is a mess of headcanons, and some might show up in my main fic. Mainly fun/wholesome stuff, but some darker stuff as well

Daisy knows “Scandinavian”, and what I mean by that is that she knows a mix between Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish, cuz back in the show days they didn’t have the best translator on the team, so it just became a mess 

Riley probably knows german, she just has the vibes, you know

Mortimer knows Latin, as well as Hebrew, Aramaic, and Koine Greek (those were the languages the spell book was written in)

Nick knows a lot of languages and picks up new ones pretty easily. He mainly uses it so he can enjoy plays and music in its original language

I think Nick would like the play “Peer Gynt” by Norwegian dramatist Henrik Ibsen, cuz it’s a very interesting and dramatic story, and everything is actually said in rhyme. I feel like Daisy helped him translate it from Norwegian. If you have no clue what I am talking about, you have probably heard the song “in the hall of the mountain king” which is from this play

Riley is a coffee “addict”, but the only times she can get it is when she steals from people she kidnaps to become hosts. She is very happy puppets can’t die of caffeine overdose, or else she would be on thin ice- Edit: I have been reminded of Riley cola by @lookineedsleep so yeah, Riley being caffeine addicted is pretty much canon

Mortimer is really good at card games, and knows all the card tricks there are to know

Riley hides away whenever she feels strong emotions, either positive or negative. Either she smiles or cries, she will turn her back to everyone in the room, trying to hide her true emotions. She tends to shake tho when her emotions are negative, so you can usually tell. The reason she hides away is because “she is a woman of science, and shouldn’t let her emotions get to her”, it’s a way for her to rationalize why she does it to herself (her emotions are also used against her in canon so-)

All the puppets would probably appreciate a weighted blanket, I think they need that. Personally, I wish I had one, I think it would solve a lot of my problems, and therefore I am projecting it onto them

Riley would be so pissed when she finds out Pluto is no longer classified as a planet (and who can blame her? Viva la Pluto)

Scout enjoys stop motion movies, she thinks it’s a very neat way of making movies, and knowing how much effort and care and how many hours go into it, she appreciates it more than many other movies 

If the Handeemen had known that Scout was made by Owen, she would have been treated completely differently, regardless of if they knew why she was created

I think the funniest family dynamic you can have with these puppets is that the Handeemen are the siblings close in age, while Scout is the “surprise baby” years later. Like that one video: “Do you want a beer?” “Dude, he’s four.” “I don’t know, what am I supposed to do with him????”

All the Handeemen steal from hotels if they visit them. Nick would probably steal soaps and lotions if they smell good. Daisy would take the drinks in the mini-fridge (you usually have to pay for it so). Mortimer just takes all the tea in the breakfast area. Riley and Scout would steal the weirdest stuff and get away with it, like they take the shower head or the remote control for the tv. Scout has stolen the entire tv at least 3 times as well (kudos to the Culteemen (specifically @dreamland-creations and @yourlocalnicknackkinnie) for this headcanon)

Riley adores astronomy! You can't tell me this lady wouldn't love stars, galaxies, and everything in the night sky. She is practically the only one who leaves the studio anyway (to kidnap hosts, and only during the night), and when she manages to take small breaks, she just watches the stars that are visible. She has wanted to start making a star map for so long, but has never gotten the time, and there are barely any good star-watching spots near the studio (there's a lot of light pollution in the area)

Since Riley is the one leaving (and kidnapping) the most, she is also the one most physically harmed of the Handeemen. She has some scratches, a couple of dents, and of course her mouth injury (but that was caused inside the studio). She also picks on her fingers, so they are pretty damaged, which is why she constantly wears her gloves to minimize the damage and not show it to the others

Riley and Scout when they are not enemies are the best and most chaotic duo. Being with Scout allows Riley to infodump a lot about different things she is researching/experimenting with at the moment, and in turn, Scout can infodump about shows and games. Scout might tease Riley about her liking Lord of the rings, but she loves the series too much as well to actually be hurtful with it (*sobs in my headcanons that Riley would have been a great older sister/mentor for Scout, but I know it will never be canon*)

Scout never sleeps a full 8 hours, but also takes naps throughout the day so she technically gets enough sleep. She sleeps the best around her host (Bee in my au), as they are the safest person she knows

Riley does not get enough sleep, ever. All the Handeemen have had to force her to go to sleep before, Daisy mainly does this task tho

The rest of them have pretty decent sleep schedules tho, except for the occational sleepless night they all experience

I think it's obvious by now who my favorites are… Scout and Riley my beloveds

Headcanon asks are very much open, feel free to ask my stuff^^

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 45 CATELYN VI (pages 587-598)

Cat and Brienne remain in Riverrun while Edmure heads out to battle. They get to see his very effective Riverrun Defense System in operation.

-

Brienne asked," What should we do now, my lady?" "Our duty." Catelyn's face was drawn as she started across the yard. I have always done my duty, she thought. Perhaps that was why her lord father had always cherished her the best of all his children. Her two older brothers died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match.

I feel like this explains so much about Cat. How shackled she's been by duty to her family, how deeply ingrained in her it is. Like I feel like she has a natural tendency towards the duty and loyalty and care, or she would have cracked under the pressure, but oh what pressure that would have been, and one she can never escape given the shape of the society she lives in.

"Did you see my girls? Are they treated well?" Ser Cleos hesitated. "I... yes, they seemed..." He is fumbling for a lie, Catelyn realized, but the wine has fuddled his wits. "Ser Cleos," she said cooly, "you forfeired the protection of your peace banner when your men played us false. Lie to me, and you'll hang from the walls beside them. Believe that. I shall ask you once more- did you see my daughters?" His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a bit wan. Drawn, as it were." Sansa, but not Arya. That might mean anything. Arya had always been harder to tame. Perhaps Cersei was reluctant to parade her in open court for fear of what she might say or do. They might have her locked safely out of sight. Or they might have killed her. Catelyn shoved the thought away.

Come on Cat, think, even Sansa's initial letter didn't mention her, not because she's dead, but because they never had her. I mean, yes, there are a lot of explanations and Cat can't know any of them for certain, but it's okay, Arya escaped she's... well I mean she's not safe safe, but she's not dead or in prison?

Stay hopeful!

"And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolves , and the wind itself was their song."

It's a bop.

"There was always a singer at Evenfall Hall when I was a girl," Brienne said quietly. "I learned all the songs by heart." "Sansa did the same, though few singers ever cared to make the journey north to Winterfell." I told her there would be singers at the king's court, though. I told her she would hear music of all sorts, that her father could find some master to help her learn the high harp. Oh, gods forgive me...

*squints* hang on a sec, we'll be back to glare judgementally at Ned in a second. *pulls out GoT* ... yeah, no, that's what I thought. Arya I "Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells."

So I'm going to guess it's more a "Sansa's technically only an amateur musician by musician terms and she was promised a teacher to become a real pro" than a "teach her from scratch" type situation? Actually, if singers don't go to Winterfell often, who taught her? Mordane? Her mother? Was she self taught? Was it MVP Luwin?

Or GRRM forgot he wrote that line.

Right, now that's double checked, let's all glare judgmentally at Ned for a minute, cause don't think we didn't notice this promised harp teacher not materialise unlike Arya's 'dance' instructor.

... good job everyone! You may relax your brows.

...Oh the guilt Cat feels, someone hug this woman.

In the end the Mountain and a handful of his best had gained the west bank, but Edmure had thrown his reserve at them, and they had shattered and reeled away bloody and beaten. Ser Gregor himself had lost his horse and staggered back across the Red Fork bleeding from a dozen wounds while a rain of arrows and stones fell around him.

*twists a ribbon and adds some glitter glue before pinning it to Edmure's chest* I hereby present you with the Not As Martially Useless As You Could Have Been Award. Good job buddy!

I know, I'm very mean to him, he actually has a pretty good tactical and strategic mind from what we've seen this chapter, his preparations all up and down the rivers and his defenses of Riverrun which we saw last Cat Chapter. Unfortunately for him my strongest association for his character is the scene from the show where he fails to hit the funeral barge several times and Blackfish has to shove him out of the way and do it for him.

But if we are winning, why am I so afraid?

Because you've been paying attention. (a large amount of intuition is information you picked up without noticing being analyzed and pulling up flags in the background.)

Actually, now that it's come up, has anyone else noticed Cat's chapter have a strangely prophetic vibe to them? Like there's just a lot of lines and vibes that could be either coincidence of foreshadowing?

[isabelcor3]

Fate Of Journeys

Ch 1: New beginnings

Tw: swearing

Wilbur walked towards the palace eagerly. He was going to see his childhood friends, Prince Technoblade and Prince Tomathy. The guards knew Wilbur. He had been coming to palace every day since he was 5. He had met the princes when the were visiting the Sunday market. They talked and played till Tommy and Techno had to go. They had vowed to stay friends that day and always found a way to be with the other. That was years ago. Wilbur is now 21, Techno was 23 and Tommy was 17. The group was meeting to discuss their plans. They’ve had this plan every since wilbur and techno were tweens. After Tommy turned 18, they would set sail and see all the distant lands. They wanted to sail the seas and climb mountains. King Phil didn’t know about this plan and today was the day when they would pitch their idea. Wilbur walked through the marble halls towards the library. Tommy had his lessons there. Techno would be reading a book and waiting for Will like usual. Wilbur smiled as he opened the huge oak doors to reveal the library. From floor to ceiling were shelves with books. Everything you would have ever wanted to know was in those books. The chandeliers hung down from the roof, glistening the walls with golden light. Father back was a balcony with windows and a loft, Techno’s favorite spot. Wilbur moved towards the mahogany tables with gold designs. There sat Tommy, writing in a notebook, while his tutor was talking to him about ancient history of L’manburg. A city long forgotten by many of the nobles but not by Lumena. Wilbur passed by them and went to the loft where Techno was. “My man, the Blade, how are you,” Wilbur asked as he sat on one of the velveteen chairs. Techno looked up and nodded in response. Classic Techno. “Are you ready for today? It’s finally come.” Wilbur studies Techno’s fair skin and glistening red eyes. Techno grabs a band and ties his hair in a bun. “Yeah I’m ready. But what if he declines? All that hard work, saving, and hoping for nothing.” “Then we can improvise,” Wilbur exclaims. Tommy comes in and plops himself next to Will. “I swear one of these days I’m gonna sucker punch my tutor,” Tommy exclaims and sighs as he leans against Will’s leg. “We have about thirty minutes before lunch with Phil. What ya wanna do?” Tommy says as taps his notebook. “Read,” Techno says as he flips a page in his book. “That’s fucking boring Tech,” Tommy whines. “How about we….walk in the gardens.” Wilbur smiles as he gazes between Techno and Tommy. They both look very different from each other and more different from their parents. Tommy takes up the image of Phil, with golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Techno has long pink hair, pinkish like skin, and ruby red eyes. Most would say he looked adopted but he wasn’t. Rumors are just rumors and Wilbur would never believe them. “Sure,” Techno says as he closes his book and tucks it in his satchel. Tommy jumps up and starts to run to the library door. “Last one there is a fucking pussy!” The trio walked into the outside terrace. The table and chairs were glistening in the sun and there sat King Phil and Queen Kristin. Everyone was luscious and beautiful and grand. Techno took his seat next to Phil and Tommy next to Kristin. Wilbur sat down as the maids began bringing the food on platters. A plate of pesto chicken with roasted potatoes was placed in front of Wilbur. The food always tasted good because of Niki, the head chef. Many times the trio snuck in the kitchen to taste some of her delicious ginger snap cookies or her blueberry pie. Oh the memories. Wilbur’s reminiscing is interrupted by Techno clearing his throat. All eyes are on him and Will realizes he missed a conversation and it’s probably time for them to reveal the plan.

Wilbur swallowed and begun his speech. “Phil, Kristin, as you know it’s gonna be Tommy’s birthday in a month. We’ve been talking about this since me and Techno were teens. I feel like this would be really nice for all of us but…..I don’t know if you’ll approve. Will you allow me, Tommy, and Techno to go on a journey to distant lands and see the world?” Wilbur bites his lip thinking the worst. “Of course mate! It’ll be lovely to gain some new allies and you’ll see things you’ve never seen before.” The trio exhaled happily, now knowing their trip would be a reality. “A toast to the adventurers,” Tommy exclaimed as he raised his glass high. “Toast to the adventurers!”

—— — ———

Tommy, Wilbur and Techno walk along the luscious trees and flowers in the garden. The smell of orange blossoms and roses filled the air with their sweet, sweet scent. The dandelions, tulips, and ferns were in full bloom. Tommy stopped to pull some and started to weave a flower crown. Wilbur pulled out his polariod camera and began taking pictures. Suddenly, he feels motion on his head and turns to see Tommy behind him. He puts a hand to his and feels flowers weaved together. “Thanks child.” “IM NOT A FUCKING CHILD YOU BITCH!” “But you’re younger than both of us,” Techno chimes in. “That doesn’t FUCKING matter asshat.” Tommy says as he goes into the flower beds and picks some more. “Tommy stop stepping on the flowers. You know the wrath of mom when her flowers are stepped on.” “Shit sorry,” Tommy says softly as he carefully steps out. They continue walking through the splendid garden until a maid comes from inside and tells them that lunch is served.

[goldlightsaber]

every time i think about the chaos of the last week "in the hall of the mountain king" starts playing in my head

[bocceclub]

every time I glance at my activity feed In the Hall of the Mountain King starts playing faintly in my head

[noknowshame]

hello! do you have any favorite writings/quotes on The Narrative/legacy/storytelling?

the thought process that went through my head when i saw this ask was like the cognitive equivalent of "The Hall of the Mountain King"

The Narrative/fate, legacy, and storytelling are all related yet unique themes, and I'll cover a little bit of all three. Mutuals and regulars on this blog will probably know EXACTLY where this is going we're hitting all the classics

obviously I am obligated to start with Black Sails, and these bangers about legacy:

this entire show is obviously one long quote about storytelling, so I'll move on.

Moby-Dick is of course our next stop. It's a novel that is inherently about telling your own story: what you say, what you don't say, how much you say. It's a beautiful attempt at meaning-making from trauma, and it is also chock-full of implications that it was all per-ordained from the beginning!

I won't share any more quotes from this. Go and read it.

Another book I'd recommend that deals with surprisingly similar themes is The Secret History

it's not only a reflection on very dark event's in the main characters' youth from an adult perspective, but a warning against what happens when you treat your own life like a fictional story.

One more book: The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, about the Vietnam War. I had to read this in high school and its honestly one of the best books I've ever read.

It's from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, and the way events are called into question is done beautifully. I'd highly recommend finding a pdf of the chapter "Sweetheart of Song Tra Bong" to read.

Let's move on to another medium: theater! This is the part where you yell BINGO! because yes I am bringing up Jesus Christ Superstar. It's hard to pin down to a single quote, but obviously a story about this particular character is going to concern itself with inevitability and legacy. My favorite part is when Judas betrays Jesus and a choir of angels sings "well done" – he played his part as planned! Definitely watch and/or listen to it. It's ruined my ability to fake a normal conversation with someone who's actually religious.

And of course, I would be remiss not to bring up Robert Icke's Oresteia. I swear once I get my own copy I will painstakingly

there is SO much more I could bring up because this is literally all I think about. I guarantee I will wake up in the middle of the night with a quote I forgot to include. However for my own sanity, for now, I will end it here.

fin.