#and an art trade and gifts in between

[lyriumsings]

turns out going out and doing things is good for you vs staying inside for weeks at a time lol but sadly leaving the house cuts into drawing im trying to make up for it by watching studies and collecting comm refs

[teaboot]

How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

[bixels]

Taking the current topic as an excuse to ask you to tell me all the reasons you love Rarijack. Your art for the ship is so sweet and intimate I'd love to hear any in depth thoughts you have.

Breathes in.

I think what makes their dynamic really strong is that they have opposing personalities but aligned values. It's deeper than just "opposites attract." Rarity's fancy, prissy, and femme while Applejack's modest, rough, and "masculine." But both value hard work (to the point of being workaholics), their families (both have guardianship over their little sisters), running successful businesses, and eventually each other. Their relationship can be boiled down to, "Despite our differences/disagreements, I still like you because we value the same things."

We see their relationship develop so much. In the first season, they can't stop bickering about surface-level differences. By season four, they still bicker, but will mend their relationship because they can't help but do nice things for each other. In Trade Ya, they start off arguing over personality differences (Applejack likes old junk and Rarity likes useless crap). Then they pivot and start arguing that they value their relationship more than the other. In the end, they mend things by sacrificing their needs and buying each other a gift. Even if they don't understand it, they know it'd make the other happy. And that's all that really matters. It's a genuinely sweet moment that shows how arguing can be healthy and necessary for relationships to strengthen.

We even see them dropping their hang-ups about each others' personalities. In Made in Manehattan, when Rarity runs off in dramatics about someone's fashion, AJ doesn't roll her eyes or scoff, she smiles. Oftentimes, their conflicts are very common domestic conflicts romantic couples face. Applejack's Day Off is about a woman's inability to balance work and life and find time to properly spend with her partner, causing her partner to feel neglected.

By season seven, they're actively participating in each others' interests. Any problems or conflicts that arise are dealt with, and they come out the other end stronger and closer. In Honest Apple, AJ pretty much spells out why their relationship works so well: even though she doesn't understand fashion, she can recognize and appreciate how much work it takes and wants to respect that. When she realizes her mistake in the episode, AJ goes above and beyond to fix things and apologize to Rarity. They care about each other so much.

The two go out of their way, sacrificing their personal desires and beliefs and doing things they normally wouldn't, to make the other happy. That's just love.

There's Simple Ways, where AJ gets stuck in an unwanted love triangle between Rarity and her hipster crush. And her frustration and anger can be so easily interpreted as AJ finding herself in a terrible position; the girl she loves wants another man, and that man wants her.

I dunno. I've always had a preference for opposites attract ships, but Rarijack's stuck with me like a brain worm because they have the perfect chemistry. The way they show they care, or do things for each other, I've always read it as the truest representation of romance in the show.

[bweirdart]

nearly oc-tober time again - time for some prompts for 2024

F.A.Q

do i have to draw? not at all! you are free to participate with any medium that suits you... writing, artwork, free bases and templates, simple text posts, in-character-as-your-oc roleplay, whatever! (just no stealing or AI)

do i have to make new content? nope! re-uploading old stuff that fits the prompts is allowed (and encouraged) ... old art that didn't get the appreciation it needed always deserves a chance to be shared again, it's a fun throwback!

do i have to post every day? nope! only 10 days are mandatory (the ones in red with a star symbol) and everything else (yellow) is 100% optional! if you're busy or tired, please skip as many as you want

can i start early? you can prep your posts in advance if you need to ... but please wait until the right day in october to share them!

can i re-upload your prompt list to another site? i would prefer if you dont - i have accounts on most sites, so just reblog/retweet/share from me!

event tag? #bweirdOCtober

have fun!

image desc/text version ↓under the cut↓ or on bweird.art/october

prompts:

WEEK 1: OC INTRODUCTIONS

⭐ 1: FAV OC what makes them your fav? 2: NEW OC how recently did you make them? 3: OLD OC how long ago did you make them? ⭐ 4: UNDER-APPRECIATED OC an oc you feel like you don't talk about enough, or you haven't fleshed out as much as you would like 5: RE-DESIGNED OC an oc who has changed a lot (what changed about them?) or, if you haven't redesigned an oc: is there anything you might want to change about an existing oc?

WEEK 2: BUILDING BACKSTORY

⭐ 6: PAST where is your oc from? what did they look like as a child? 7: LIKES what do they like (and why?) 8: DISLIKES what don't they like (and why?) ⭐ 9: RELATIONSHIPS doesn't have to be romantic! can any kind of relationship (frienship, family, rivalry etc) 10: PERSONALITY what are your oc's main personality traits 11: SYMBOLISM/THEMES what represents your oc? is there a specific colour you associate them with, or a specific animal? 12: FUTURE what will your oc look like in the future? do they have any plans or goals?

WEEK 3: FUN + GAMES

⭐13: MEMES do any memes remind you of your oc? are there memes your oc would find funny? maybe you want to redraw your oc as one? 14: WHO/WHAT INSPIRED YOUR OC are there existing characters that your oc looks like? was your oc based on yourself? is your oc originally from a specific fandom? 15: MUSIC share a character playlist, write a songfic, post lyrics that remind you of them, etc ⭐16: EYES CLOSED or NON DOMINANT HAND draw a picture of your oc with your eyes closed or with your non domminant hand, write or type a paragraph about them without your eyes closed, etc ... have fun, and don't worry about it looking "bad" -it's meant to!! 17: DnD ALIGNMENT CHART put all your ocs into a DnD alignment chart, or any other similar chart if you prefer i've compiled a few templates on my site, but you can find more easily if you google "oc alignment chart" ⭐18: SWAP swap something between your ocs - their role in the story, hairstyles, personalities, fashion taste, species ... whatever you want! how would this difference change them? 19: PALETTE CHALLENGES draw your ocs with as many of these colour palettes as you want (or just skip if you don't draw/don't like doing these!)

hex codes for the colours: palette 1 - #3C1E81 #6D1EA2 #B059E8 #FE0876 #FE5284 #FE7C96 #E0CFE3 #FFD5C3 palette 2 - #352823 #673F28 #AB541C #BA8233 #897128 #A68B2F #F7BF6A #DAC3A4 palette 3 - #A42E25 #D7412B #E47C29 #F7A233 #FCC02D #FCE4A6 #486548 #FEFDE8 palette 4 - #2F4769 #39597E #53779C #94D1E7 #AADDE7 #D48DB7 #D498B5 #D2BABA

WEEK 4: COMMUNITY

20-26: A WHOLE WEEK OF SOCIAL STUFF if you don't have the time/energy to do every day this week, ⭐ day 23 is the only one marked as mandatory! you can skip the rest!

some ideas for what you could do: talk about a friend's oc you like, make gift art/writing of them, collabs, trades, reblog/appreciate ocs in the event tag, make interactions between your ocs and other people's

WEEK 5: HALLOWEEN

⭐27: FEARS is your oc scared of anything? do they have any phobias? are they startled easily? would any of your ocs try to scare ppl on purpose? 28: MONSTER what would your oc be if they were a monster (eg: werewolf, vampire, eldritch beast.. whatever) or, do you have an oc who is already a monster? 29: PUMPKIN CARVING your ocs carving pumpkins, a drawing of a pumpkin carved to look like your oc ... or even carve it in real life! 30: GHOST this can be literally a ghost, or a concept that haunts your oc! up to you! ⭐ 31: COSTUMES what are your ocs wearing for halloween?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?" w Art Donaldson 🙏

From the Domestic Bickering Prompt List

Sure thing!

Warnings: Established relationship, twice-divorced Art Donaldson, fluff, smooches

You've caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye two, maybe three times—but you've been so damn busy answering the usual questions that you've hardly had a chance to catch up with him. You're certain that he's been getting a healthy handful of them, too, along with a heap of sarcasm—

Will you have the ceremony on the court?

Will the bridal party be in tennis whites?

Third time's the charm, eh, Donaldson?

While you hadn't had any idea who Art was when you'd first met him, he'd been forthright with you about being twice divorced. He'd told you that his first wife had cheated on him, and his second wife had been a rebound.

"I wanna get married again," He'd admitted, "But I want this one to stick."

Now, you pass a nervous smile toward where Tashi Duncan and Patrick Zweig are in the corner of the party. They've been keeping to themselves for the most part, seeming to trade smiles and barbs between one another, and exchanged bland pleasantries with Art's family.

Art having such a close relationship with his ex-wife had unsettled you at first, but they had a child together. His bond with Patrick was just as obvious but admittedly a little more nebulous to you. But, they were important to Art, so you adjusted.

Patrick catches and holds your eye, raising his beer in a mock-toast and shooting you a wink. Tashi meets your gaze you next, her brow arched slightly as she gives you a nod. It's just enough and nearly too much all at once.

You're drawn into Art's mother's arm a moment later, giving you a squeeze as she coos over your engagement ring.

"You have to meet Alan and Edith—they're Art's godparents."

"Oh, I'd love to!"

--

"There you are."

You look up, doing a double-take at the sight of Art leaning in the doorway.

"Hey! Where did you put that bottle of wine that your mother brought?" You ask, scanning the crowded counter tops in Art's kitchen—well, it'll be your kitchen, too, once you're fully moved in.

"Can't that wait?"

"It must be in here somewhere."

"Honey."

"Can you check the dining room? Or—maybe we left it in the front hall?"

You hear Art sigh and expect to hear him leave, but when he doesn't budge, you turn your head to get a good look at him. His head is hanging, his thumb sliding over his left ring finger.

"...Art?"

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?"

You purse your lips, rounding the counter toward him. When the two of you had begun dating, he hadn't been the only name on your dance card. When he'd told you that he wanted to be exclusive all of that had stopped, of course—but he'd made his dislike of sharing your attention very clear.

"You know it isn't the same," You remind him. "I'm not texting a Tinder fuckboy. I'm trying to find the gift that your mother very kindly brought us to make sure I stay on her good side."

"You don't need to worry about that. She loves you."

"I worry about it all the same."

"C'mere." Art reaches out, taking hold of your left hand and drawing you in. You smile as he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring, and then to your knuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having to chase you down for a kiss."

"Is that what that pout's about?" You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips and grinning as he raises a hand to curl around your jaw.

"I wanna leave," Art murmurs.

"What?" You frown, drawing back to get a better look at him. "Why?"

"I'm sick of the party. I'm sick of this already," He thumbs your ring. "I wanna marry you tonight. Right now."

"Art!" You laugh, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding."

"You have to be. We haven't filed for a license yet—and we still have to arrange everything."

"We'll go to Vegas. If we leave right now, get tickets at the airport, we'll get there before the marriage license bureau closes. We can file online, on the way to the airport."

"...Art," You shake your head. "You're—Seriously?"

"Seriously." His eyes search yours. "I don't want to have to wait to call you my wife."

"We can't just leave everyone here."

"They're adults, they can see themselves out."

"It would be rude."

Art sighs, looking toward the busy patio. "Alright. We'll give everyone a very polite brush-off. And then can we fly to Vegas?"

"Won't your family be disappointed?"

"I don't care about that." He pauses, a wave of concern passing across his face. "Will you be disappointed?"

"What do you mean?"

"...I've done this a couple'a times. I can do without the big white wedding. But," His brows raise as he tips his head toward you, "If you want it, we'll have it."

You consider for a few moments, glancing toward the patio.

Tonight has been such a whirlwind. You've hardly had any time to catch a breath. The politics of wedding planning can be so nerve-wracking, and you'll have those little comments, those teases of third time's the charm hanging over your head. You'll have to invite Tashi and Patrick to the wedding, and where to seat them? With Art's other friends from the Academy? Will themed drinks be expected? Some hair-brained concoction called The Grand Slam, accompanied by a toothpick with a little tennis ball on the end?

There's press coverage to be had, too. Art may not be playing right now, but that doesn't mean he isn't news. You're not ready for those cameras, the questions, the months of speculation about your dress, about Tashi's attendance—

You look up at Art, resting your hand on his chest.

"I'm going to find the bottle of wine that your mom brought. We're going to finish this party like we planned...And pack when everyone leaves. We'll go to Vegas tomorrow."

The grin that breaks across Art's face is so bright and beautiful that you have no doubt you made the right decision. The crushing force of his kiss nearly bowls you into the opposite side of the door frame.

"I love you," He murmurs.

"I know, baby. I love you, too."

[splatashahowlett]

sharing is caring

logan howlett x reader (inspired by @keigohawks <3)

you've been a teacher at xavier's school for gifted youngsters for a decade now and you loved everything about it. the kids were wonderful, the place was amazing and the other teachers (that you were lucky enough to call your friends) were the sweetest people on earth. nothing was missing.

well, if you wanted to go into details: settling into a routine was pretty hard for you. you were used to going on adventures, meeting new people everyday, feeling the thrill of getting caught when you where somewhere you weren't supposed to be. so waking up everyday at 7, eating breakfast with ororo and jean, teaching your class all morning, eating lunch with ororo and jean, teaching your class all afternoon, eating dinner with ororo and jean and then going to sleep after showering was draining. again, you loved your life here and wouldn't trade it for anything, but you got used to it. and that was the worst thing that could have happened.

so when he came along, you saw the perfect opportunity. logan howlett was the new P.E teacher and to say that you two got along very well would be an understatement. you loved the dynamic between you two, you were constantly bickering over who the kids liked more (the obvious answer being you) or who could run the fastest considering you had a very similar mutation as his, you could also fight (read flirt) over who knew more about elvis presley biography.

the whole school was waiting for you to get together already. it wouldn't be that big of a deal anyway taking into account that you both already acted like a couple. you would go together at any type of meeting/social event. logan would stand very close to you without even noticing. you would always have each others back when one of the students complained about the other. charles would assign you two on missions together cause you were the only one who could handle him. even a blind lawyer could see the way you were looking at each other.

but of course, you would both deny it.

"logan is just a friend! nothing more!" you would say to jean

"there's nothing between y/n and I, well not in that way" he would say to rogue

and everybody would roll their eyes...

given you were an art teacher, the art studio was probably your favorite room in the mansion. and you loved to spend time with the people you cherished there. so on a sunday afternoon, you decided to bake some cookies, make some tea and paint with scott, ororo, hank and logan who would just watch everybody else (his stubbornness could be seen as a lifestyle at that point). charles and jean couldn't come but you promised to save cookies for both of them.

the afternoon was spent laughing and smiling, you would take quick looks at logan from time to time and your heart will stop when you'd realize he was already looking at you each time. the hours passed and everybody left, except logan who stayed to help you clean up the mess you made.

"you don't have to do that you know?" you smiled, touched by his kind gesture.

"it's the least I can do, you planned everything" he answered, washing brushes.

"you didn't even paint or ate anything" you retorted

"yeah, I was busy looking at you" he joked (flirted?). your cheeks blushed, shy and flattered. before you knew it you were scooping paint from a plate and throwing it on his back. you acted like a fucking teenage girl around him.

logan froze and slowly turned around, a smirk on his face. with the brushes still in his hand he walked toward you while you were stepping back, grinning from ear to ear, and rubbed the still full-of-paint brushes on your face, grabbing you by the waist so you couldn't escape. you laughed and reached for the glass of water you used to paint and threw it on his face. he gasped.

when he opened his eyes he looked at you intensely. logan grabbed a whole paint tube and threatened you with it. you ran on the other side of the room (so not too far away) and raised your arms before you as a shield. you were both moving in circles in the room, smilling and laughing like kids. it was your turn to grab a tube of paint. logan ran toward you and tackled you against the bookshelf. you squeezed the paint in his hair, knowing it would be impossible to get off (you would help him anyway).

"you little shit" he screeched, when he tried to step back, his feet slipped on some paint and he fell on his back, dragging you with him. you landed on top of him and immediately asked if he was fine, worried about his head hitting the ground.

"logan are you okay?" you gasped. he didn't answer.

"logan?"

"logan!" he didn't wake up. you were considering calling someone for help when he burst out laughing and squeezed his tube of paint right into your face. you screamed, both surprised and angry at him for messing with you. but only seconds after you laughed together, on the ground, covered in paint.

"thank you for helping me clean up" you joked, getting up. logan pulled you back to him.

"with great pleasure" he replied, your faces closer than ever. your hair were falling on his paint covered face. you thought he looked beautiful

"you look beautiful" the words didn't come from your mouth but his. you looked away, embarassed. "don't hide your pretty smile from me bub". so you looked at him lovingly.

"come on, I have to get the studio ready for tomorrow" you said, knowing you would need a great excuse for him to let you go. and he did, reluctantly.

you finished cleaning the studio (without any paint fight this time), while chatting, smiling and accidentally touching from time to time.

you were shuffling around in bed. after about an hour of fighting yourself into sleeping you gave up. you sat up, remembering the dr pepper you hid in a fridge of the back kitchen where none of the kids were allowed to go. no one knew of this secret of yours but you didn't feel guilty about it. the worst feeling is definitely feeling your mouth watering at the idea of a soda just for someone to steal it from you.

so you put on some pants and huried into the kitchen. you were met with logan seating at the kitchen isle, reading the newspaper. you walked past him without even giving him a second glance and went to your secret hideout. but you were meyt with pure horror. the last dr pepper was missing. your mouth opened and you audibly gasped.

you could hear logan asking if everything was okay and decided on going back to the kitchen, defeated. you sat down next to logan, sighing. he put his paper down and looked at you. you looked up and widened your eyes.

"where did you get that?" you looked at the dr pepper in his left hand, still full.

"in your secret hideout, why?" he acknowledged nonchalantly.

"how do you even know where my secret hideout is?" you furrowed your brows,

"you go there each time we're in the kitchen together" he chuckled and looked down at the glass bottle. you were also looking at it, pounting unconsciously. he slide it over to you with an amused look.

"no, keep it, I'm fine"

"you clearly aren't"

you smiled and stood to grab two glasses. you poured the soda in both glasses and gave one to logan.

"I don't usually share my dr pepper" you clarified.

"I know" he smiled and added after a moment of silence: "I don't usually let people in".

you grabbed his hand and stroke it with your thumb, a sign of gratitude, support, love?

he placed his other hand on the nape of your neck.

"I'd like to let you in just a little bit more, if that's alright with you" he whispered.

"I'd love to"

logan closed the space between you two, your lips meeting in a delicate kiss. none of it felt weird or strange, you were already used to intimacy with logan, even if it never went that far.

it felt familiar.

it felt right.

[haveihitanerve]

The Bats all know and have perfected the art of looking positively tastefully slutty

Bruce: the Og dress slutty, wears too tight shirts, unbuttoned dress shirts, tight tight tight pants, low on the hips, show off hip bones, sometimes wears a thong to reveal it gracing his hips

Dick: took his lessons from Bruce, wears very low cut shirts, extraordinarily tight pants to cup his ass just so, knows the perfect angle to lean down next to someone so they not only look down his shirt but also can easily see his ass. Wears dresses when he can, but bruce refuses letting him go out in a maid costume, says its too far(in reality he did it once and alfred was so proud and yet so disapproving and bruce does not want high society to look at his son the way they looked at him when he showed up in a maid outfit because thats his son and who cares that hes an adult no fucking way are they leering at him)

Jason: perfectly styled hair that just tempts people to ruffle it, or already ruffled perfectly fucked to satisfaction hair. Wears suit jackets without shirts, sometimes even wears a bra to perfectly cups his fat chest just right, all the boys have got dat ass, wears tight pants just like his brother and father, also wears shorts that are too tight in the groin and show off his massive thighs, knows the proper way to sit that he shows all of it off, wears his pants low on his hips as well just like his dad. Also wears dresses when he can, is also not permitted to wear a maid or waitress outfit

Tim: is the only one in the family not gifted with an absolute massive ass, but has found ways to show it off but wearing performer tights, doesn't even wear underwear to most social events to really show the definition, wears nice, form fitting shirts that perfectly show off his lithe body, always has a flirty smile pasted on, hair ruffled just so. Actually managed to get out of the house wearing a maid outfit, but bruce caught him before he entered the main room and gave him his jacket.(tim has never seen his father so afraid and so possessive at a gala)

Steph: wears the sluttiest dress she can find, it is her goal to traumatize high society. Low cut dresses, without backs, thin straps that she has bruce and alfred sew because while she wants to flaunt her body in front of the elite she does not want someone to be able to rip the dress off her easily, once wore a dress that was literally two strips of fabric over her chests and between her legs, that was it. If shes not wearing a dress shes wearing a tasteful one piece that has it in all the right places and bedazzles guests only to be purposefully caught making out with a waiter and then telling a reporter that he was the most appealing out of everyone in the room. Right in the face of twenty high elite rich men. (bruce has never been prouder and jason high fived her)

Cass: is the most modest out of everyone in the family, wears dresses that are nice and subtle and that she can still kick ass in, also wears suits but not that often because then all the boys get pouty because she wears it better than them

Babs: doesn't go as extreme as Steph(especially not when her actual father is attending) but does wear skimpy dresses and suits, learned the proper ways to use her body to get what she wants from dick. Traded outfits with dick at a gala once as a challenge to see who could get more numbers, dick won but only by four people

Damian: (aged up, please, hes a minor) when hes older damian follows in his fathers and siblings footsteps, wearing the proper amount of makeup and mascara to bat his eyelashes just so at people, has perfectly the purr of charm from bruce, wears absolutely flawless outfits at all times, smirks but in a charming way, hair has to be styled properly not just for the sex appeal but also because if its not it could kill someone, also rocks the lean down to get someone staring at both his chest and ass

This does A) help with their cover (although bruce has pointed out that nightwing dresses slutty as well so dick might not want to dress that way as dick grayson but dick promptly turned him down, as did most of society and his other children, because “dick grayson is an icon and his body deserves to be seen”- steph) but also B) helps them protect the people working at Galas, so many times has bruce thrown himself in someones lap and pressed his pecs together to draw their eyes away from the poor server man they were trying to grope, Dick has perfected the art of intercepting people trying to dance with waiters and dancing instead(he once pulled out tim’s pole and started pole dancing so the poor girl could get away) steph is absolutely masterful in her bending down and flipping her hair to draw everyone's eyes to her and not to the girl in the corner who just had her shirt ripped off by a drunk sleazeball (bruce himself had to be held back from beating the man into next week, but steph and cass did it for him)

Anyway this was all for gits and shiggles, hope you enjoyed, this is how i imagine the bats dressing at Gala’s to keep up their dumbass fake personas(there are so many better covers but once bruce decided on it everyone fell into line behind him) i added the girls just for funsies because they deserve dressing like it too and yeah. Take all of it or none of it or some of it idc, just don't take it seriously. 🙃

[raguiras]

Mionn's art & writing ship trade event

(Click the art for better quality!)

I'm hosting an art & writing event centered around ships & duos (multifandom)!

🖤 REBLOGS ARE SUPER APPRECIATED

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

I've recently reached 200 followers on this blog, 900 on my meme blog, and 100 on Instagram!! Honestly, I don't even know what to say... I feel so damn honored and am so grateful for the support!! 🖤🖤🙏

As a multi-milestone celebration as well as an event for the official Spade of Storms (Deuce x Allen) day, which is on the 27th of July, I decided to host a TRADE EVENT!!!

Basically, this event is going to be an open art/writing trade that's all about ships (or platonic duos).

The event starts on 7/23 (today) and lasts for rest of July as well as for the entirety of August. For every Allen x Deuce art/writing that I receive during this duration, you get one of your own ship from ANY FANDOM back!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Why am I hosting this?

it's a way to thank everyone for three different follower milestones

a contest/DTIYS/raffle wouldn't promise that everyone gets something back, so I went for a trade event

the event allows me to post more about other canon TWST characters and draw them while not having to neglect Allen x Deuce

I wanna make new mutuals & friends, get to know more ships, and strengthen friendships with mutuals I already have!

Artfight is/was tons of fun, but I only do/did colored sketches there & ships are a tricky subject. Meanwhile, I'll do ANYTHING here!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Basic information:

Make a drawing/writing/comic of Allen x Deuce. (Ideas can be found in this post's pink "starters for my ship" section.)

Post it on your blog, tag me in it, and refer to my event. (While posting is by far preferred — especially for bigger artworks and written stuff — you can also just DM it to me.)

In return, you'll receive a gift of the same type for your own ship from any fandom (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC)! I'll DM you about the ship, so make sure that your DMs are open.

For example: If you submit a sketch, you'll get a sketch back. If you submit a fully shaded drawing, I'II make a fully shaded drawing for you, too. If you add a background, I'll (do my best to) do the same. If you write a drabble... You know the drill!

ANYONE can join, whether you follow me or not! However, new followers through the event are super appreciated!

EVENT TIME: July 23th (today) - August 31st

Anything submitted before or after this event duration will not receive anything back (unless we explicitly do a trade), but be held in high regard nonetheless!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Rules:

The portrayal of Allen x Deuce must be shippy/romantic.

Please keep angst at a minimum unless it has a happy ending. Comfort is allowed.

Please DO NOT add your own OC or another canon character to the submission. Including them in the background as a wingman or something is alright, though. Additionally, any kind of romantic implications between Deuce and another character/OC are NOT allowed.

Please no NSFW. Harmless implications and slight spice are okay, but keep in mind that these characters are both minors.

AUs are very much allowed! All the previous rules apply here, too, and I'm willing to give an overview of some AUs via DMs.

Please no genderbending.

Please DO NOT draw Allen or Deuce as a standalone character. This is a SHIP event for a reason.

Please don't change their appearances too much, especially when it comes to the color schemes & body types.

Giving them different outfits — especially event outfits — is absolutely cool (yes, you can draw Allen in a skirt if you wanna), and changing their hairstyles is okay as long as they still look like themselves.

This is NOT A DTIYS event, so please DO NOT redraw one of my Allen x Deuce arts. Please come up with something original.

If you have any more questions, please DM me!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

What CAN you submit?

drawings // comics // writings // animatics

For drawings, anything from a quick sketch to an extremely detailed drawing with a background is allowed! You'll get something of the same quality back. The same also goes for writings/fanfics.

Animatics will receive a drawing in return.

What CAN'T be submitted?

Gacha videos // edits // memes

-> You can theoretically submit all of these and I'd appreciate them, but I wouldn't be able to give you anything back.

Memes refer to funny pictures that simply have Allen & Deuce's faces in them. DRAWN memes/meme redraws count as DRAWINGS.

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Starters for Allen x Deuce

Got no clue what to draw/write about?

Check out the few already existing Allen x Deuce posts on this blog for proper lore and facts.

Check @spade-of-storms for fun facts, shorter rambles and additional info.

In any case, you can't go wrong with simple fluffy, romantic scenarios! Dates, kisses, cuddles, whatever!

For information about Allen himself, please check my pinned post.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Q&A:

I want to join the event, but I don't have any ship (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC) you could draw/write about for me in return.

That's okay! In that case, I'll gladly draw/write about two separate characters or a platonic duo for you.

Can I do multiple submissions for this event?

Obviously, and every single one will be "revenged"!

Can I get something of another type/quality back? For example, can I get a fully shaded drawing for my sketch, or art for my drabble?

Unfortunately not, as I prefer to always give something of the same type back. There are only the following two exceptions that I AM willing to do:

you do a drabble/oneshot —> I do a sketch

you do any type of art —> I write a drabble/oneshot

Is there anything you refuse to draw/write about?

Deuce ships (other than Deuce x Allen). NSFW. Family x family. Minor x adult. Any ship considered to be problematic.

How do I tell you about the ship I want you to draw/write about for me?

I'll DM you after you post your event submissions.

Do you prefer to do OC x canon, canon x canon, or OC x OC?

I have a bias towards OC x canon and canon x canon ships. However, I'm willing to do any ship that's not problematic! In the case of OC x OC, I simply need you to provide information on two OCs instead of one only.

Will you do poly ships?

In order to keep things fair, no. But I could include the third party as a plush or chibi head.

I want to make Allen x Deuce content for you, but not receive anything in return.

That's also super appreciated anytime (and totally doesn't make me freak out /pos)! Simply share it as a gift and don't mention the event.

How long is it going to take you to finish your "revenge" on me?

It depends on the type of submission you make & what I'm giving you back. Some things can be done within a day while others may take much longer, but either way, you WILL get something of the SAME TYPE back & that's guaranteed.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Personal notes:

My health isn't the best and I also have a job. Please be respectful and don't rush me nor get mad when I'm being slow.

Please do not start a discussion nor get mad at me if I refuse to draw/write about a ship I deem problematic & want you to pick another one instead. Preferably pick a ship that's by far NOT problematic from the beginning.

I'm unwilling to draw/write about any Deuce ships other than Deuce x Allen because I kin Deuce a ton and tend to feel uncomfortable with many of his ships, so please don't ask for any. I'm asking you to not start a discussion over this, either.

I won't post everything I make for the event on this blog. Sketches and writings will either be DMed to you or posted on one of my other blogs.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

That's it for now! If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to DM me.

And again, thank you so much for 200 followers!

♤ Happy trading! ♤

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: As Saiyans go, Raditz isn't just weak; He's a talentless hack. Nappa is much more talented at martial arts, but his skills are undermined by him being a complete fucking moron.

Raditz is our introduction to the particularities of the Planet Trade Organization - or, well, the Saiyans since the PTO didn't quite exist as a concept yet when he showed up.

Toriyama only came up with the PTO later in the arc. It's honestly kind of funny; Vegeta's referred to as the "Strongest in the Universe" a couple times in this arc because the idea for Frieza doesn't exist yet. The original plan was that the Saiyan race are the ones doing planet gentrification on their own initiative, but they were almost all wiped out by a meteor so if we take out Strongest in the Universe Vegeta, we'll put an end to it.

So all this stuff like the spaceship pods and Scouters that was original Saiyan equipment and methodology got retooled into being PTO equipment and methodology.

But I digress. We meet Raditz and he's unlike anyone we've seen before. He immediately starts shit with Piccolo because they're both assholes, and we see how he operates.

He has a little doodad that reads off someone's "Battle Power" into a flat, easily digestible number that even a child could understand. This is the industrialization of martial arts, simplifying it into something that can be replicated and mass-produced.

It's the difference between teaching swordsmanship lessons in your dojo versus handing someone an AK-47 and telling them to go shoot the enemy.

This is the key distinction between the Saiyans and Earthlings, that made Goku - A Saiyan raised on Earth engulfed by their martial arts philosophy - so formidable. The Saiyans and by extension Planet Trade's culture is built on capitalist efficiency. Their warriors are carefully measured, analyzed, and matched with suitable challenges. They aren't trained. In fact, Vegeta scoffs at the idea of it.

They're battle-hardened.

They measure their fighters and quantify their abilities into a number, then select the right target that matches that number. Those warriors become stronger through fire and frenzy, rather than by studying principles of martial technique.

Consequently, upwards mobility doesn't seem to be a thing. Nobody in the PTO got to where they are by working hard and improving themselves. Every single one of them is naturally gifted, coasting by on whatever privileges their birth afforded them. Especially Frieza.

They aren't practitioners of an art. They're cogs in a machine.

Raditz believes these distinctions made Goku weaker.

He has no idea. The limitations of the PTO's methodology is a recurring theme in the Saiyan and Namek arcs.

Raditz is a low-class Saiyan. By virtue of being a Saiyan, he's still unbelievably powerful compared to the terrestrial races of the worlds he's sent to. But power is all he brings to the table; He's an unrefined juggernaut who coasts by entirely on Big Number Go Brrrrr. Philosophically, Goku is unimpressed.

Coming from Goku, that's a pretty sick burn. He's already lost to Raditz once; He knows how Big Number this guy is. But he can't bite his tongue at Raditz's oversimplification of his art.

As a fighter, Raditz delivers what he promised. All he has going for him is Big Number Go Brr... but it's a really big number.

Raditz is impossibly strong, impossibly fast, and his basic-ass ki blasts are impossibly powerful. The gulf between Goku and an adversary has never been so huge before.

And yet, for all his power, he is repeatedly startled and befuddled by Goku and Piccolo's training and technique. These weaklings are breaking out abilities he didn't even know were possible.

Raditz watching Goku power up the most basic ki concentration technique on Earth and exclaiming "WHAT IS THIS SORCERY!?" really tells you everything about the PTO's methodology, doesn't it?

Raditz falls for every trick and every shenanigan that these guys have spent their careers honing, forced to rely solely on tanking attacks with his tremendous Numbers.

This dipshit hasn't even trained the weakness out of his tail.

Goku was fifteen years old when he trained his tail and eliminated this vulnerability.

Raditz is less proficient than Goku was as a child. This isn't even the PTO's flaws manifesting through Raditz, either. Nappa and Vegeta trained their tails.

"LOL What kind of a useless clown doesn't train his tail?" ~Nappa, probably. Oh, wait. No. Actually.

~Vegeta literally.

Raditz is limited by the philosophy of the Planet Trade and he's also on the weaker side of Saiyans, but he also sucks even without taking power levels into account. He brings absolutely nothing to the table. He reads someone's number to tell him in advance if they'll fall down when he punches them, and then he punches them if the number tells him he's clear.

Raditz isn't a fighter. He's a bully with a gun.

For his part, Nappa is a more advanced version of Raditz. His Big Number Go Brr is even bigger than Raditz's and he's familiar with more advanced techniques beyond "Throw this ball of ki at your face".

As a front-line fighter, Nappa is unbelievably tough. Blow after blow and attack after attack, he never gives as much as it feels like he should. No matter what they do to him, he keeps getting back up and coming back, more bloodied and bruised than ever but ready for another round. He is unbelievably resilient.

Fighting Nappa feels like an exercise in futility. You're going to have to kill this man to put him down because he'll accept nothing less. Even when Goku takes the field, he finds himself at a loss with Nappa's absolute unwillingness to take the hint and lose consciousness already.

Nappa is a brick wall. Goku only finally manages to end this by breaking his spine so he can't keep getting up again.

That is what Nappa brings to his table. Though it's worth noting that his Sisyphean endurance is something Vegeta shares as well. It's not unique to Nappa. Fights with Vegeta are every bit as much of an ordeal as this bout with Nappa was.

Saiyans are hard to put down.

Nappa's biggest weakness, however, is simple: Like Raditz, he's coasting on his brute strength. He doesn't pay attention to what's happening around him, and is easily blindsided by sudden attacks from other fighters in this brawl.

Or baited into incredibly poor decision-making.

For all his Saiyan might, the Earthlings would have killed Nappa well in advance of Goku's arrival, if he didn't have Vegeta to watch his back. I'm half-convinced the only reason he trained his tail is because Vegeta told him to.

Nappa is very much a follower. He does what he's told. He's honestly a better Saiyan than Vegeta in the sense that he. Like. Cares about other Saiyans? His kneejerk reaction when Vegeta suggests taking Earth's Dragon Balls is that he wants his friend back.

And he's filled with eugenic fervor for the glory of the Saiyan race when he finds out what mixing Saiyan and Earthling physiology can do.

Fun little side note: "Super Saiyan" was originally the term used to describe Gohan's hybrid abilities before it was recontextualized to mean something else on Namek.

It's honestly interesting to look at their interactions and realize that Vegeta is a cruel, monstrous, selfish bastard even by Saiyan standards. Vegeta is uniquely wicked within this culture of for-profit colonizing murderers.

But Nappa defers to Vegeta every time. Vegeta tells him, "No, you're wrong," and Nappa pivots to supporting whatever Vegeta just said instead. Nappa obeys.

But he doesn't listen. Vegeta and Nappa were following the action while Raditz was fighting Goku and Piccolo. They saw all of the strange anomalies that occurred, that Raditz couldn't comprehend. Vegeta spends this time thinking about what this means for Earth and re-evaluating his assessment of the foes to come.

And he adjusts accordingly. From the moment they arrive at the fight, Vegeta pegs overreliance on the Scouter's readout for the vulnerability that it is.

Like. He says this. He acknowledges that he understands. And not five minutes later:

BUT THE NUMBERS, VEGETA

THE NUMBERS SAID NO

Even then, Nappa flat-out ignores The Numbers if he doesn't like what's printed on them.

Nappa and Vegeta both disregard the printout this time, but in different ways. Vegeta observes that Earthlings suppress their ki, presenting a smaller number than their true ability. So when the Scouter says 5000, that means Goku's true level is likely well beyond that.

Nappa observes that Goku is probably weak so that's stupid and you're wrong.

Nappa just does things. He doesn't think or pay attention to what they're doing. He destroys a city as soon as they arrive, and Vegeta immediately lays into him for what a fucking idiotic thing to do that was.

He's a beast on a chain, barely restrained by his deference to Vegeta. Powerful, seemingly unstoppable, but needing Vegeta to hold his hand and walk him through the higher concepts of combat and martial arts.

An absolute fool. But a Saiyan elite fool.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Inupiaq Books

This post was inspired by learning about and daydreaming about visiting Birchbark Books, a Native-owned bookstore in Minneapolis, so there will be some links to buy the books they have on this list.

Starting Things Off with Two Inupiaq Poets

Joan Naviyuk Kane, whose available collections include:

Hyperboreal

Black Milk Carbon

The Cormorant Hunter's Wife

She also wrote Dark Traffic, but this site doesn't seem to carry any copies

Dg Nanouk Okpik, whose available collections include

Blood Snow

Corpse Whale

Fictionalized Accounts of Historical Events

A Line of Driftwood: the Ada Blackjack Story by Diane Glancy, also available at Birchwood Books, is a fictionalized account of Ada Blackjack's experience surviving the explorers she was working with on Wrangel Island, based on historical records and Blackjack's own diary.

Goodbye, My Island by Rie Muñoz is a historical fiction aimed at younger readers with little knowledge of the Inupiat about a little girl living on King Island. Reads a lot like an American Girl book in case anyone wants to relive that nostalgia

Blessing's Bead by Debby Dahl Edwardson is a Young Adult historical fiction novel about hardships faced by two generations of girls in the same family, 70 years apart. One reviewer pointed out that the second part of the book, set in the 1980s, is written in Village English, so that might be a new experience for some of you

Photography

Menadelook: and Inupiaq Teacher's Photographs of Alaska Village Life, 1907-1932 edited by Eileen Norbert is, exactly as the title suggests, a collection of documentary photographs depicting village life in early 20th century Alaska.

Nuvuk, the Northernmost: Altered Land, Altered Lives in Barrow, Alaska by David James Inulak Lume is another collection of documentary photographs published in 2013, with a focus on the wildlife and negative effects of climate change

Guidebooks (i only found one specifically Inupiaq)

Plants That We Eat/Nauriat Niģiñaqtuat: from the Traditional Wisdom of Iñupiat Elders of Northwest Alaska by Anore Jones is a guide to Alaskan vegetation that in Inupiat have subsisted on for generations upon generations with info on how to identify them and how they were traditionally used.

Anthropology

Kuuvangmiut Subsistence: Traditional Eskimo Life in the Latter Twentieth Century by Douglas B. Anderson et al details traditional lifestyles and subsistance customs of the Kobuk River Inupiat

Life at the Swift Water Place: Northwest Alaska at the Threshold of European Contact by Douglas D. Anderson and Wanni W. Anderson: a multidisciplinary study of a specific Kobuk River group, the Amilgaqtau Yaagmiut, at the very beginning of European and Asian trade.

Upside Down: Seasons Among the Nunamiut by Margaret B. Blackman is a collection of essays reflecting on almost 20 years of anthropological fieldwork focused on the Nunamiut of Anuktuvuk Pass: the traditional culture and the adaption to new technology.

Nonfiction

Firecracker Boys: H-Bombs, Inupiat Eskimos, and the Roots of the Environmental Movement by Dan O'Neill is about Project Chariot. In an attempt to find peaceful uses of wartime technology, Edward Teller planned to drop six nukes on the Inupiaq village of Point Hope, officially to build a harbor but it can't be ignored that the US government wanted to know the effects radiation had on humans and animals. The scope is wider than the Inupiat people involved and their resistance to the project, but as it is no small part of this lesser discussed moment of history, it only feels right to include this

Fifty Miles From Tomorrow: a Memoir of Alaska and the Real People by William L. Iģģiaģruk Hensley is an autobiography following the author's tradition upbringing, pursuit of an education, and his part in the Alaska Native Settlement Claims Act, where he and other Alaska Native activists had to teach themselves United States Law to best lobby the government for land and financial compensation as reparations for colonization.

Sadie Bower Neakok: An Iñupiaq Woman by Margaret B. Blackman is a biography of the titular Sadie Bower Neakok, a beloved public figure of Utqiagvik, former Barrow. Neakok grew up one of ten children of an Inupiaq woman named Asianggataq, and the first white settler to live in Utqiagvik/Barrow, Charles Bower. She used the out-of-state college education she received to aid her community as a teacher, a wellfare worker, and advocate who won the right for Native languages to be used in court when defendants couldn't speak English, and more.

Folktales and Oral Histories

Folktales of the Riverine and Costal Iñupiat/Unipchallu Uqaqtuallu Kuungmiuñļu Taģiuģmiuñļu edited by Wanni W. Anderson and Ruth Tatqaviñ Sampson, transcribed by Angeline Ipiiļik Newlin and translated by Michael Qakiq Atorak is a collection of eleven Inupiaq folktales in English and the original Inupiaq.

The Dall Sheep Dinner Guest: Iñupiaq Narratives of Northwest Alaska by Wanni W. Anderson is a collection of Kobuk River Inupiaq folktales and oral histories collected from Inupiat storytellers and accompanied by Anderson's own essays explaining cultural context. Unlike the other two collections of traditional stories mentioned on this list, this one is only written in English.

Ugiuvangmiut Quliapyuit/King Island Tales: Eskimo Historu and Legends from Bering Strait compiled and edited by Lawrence D. Kaplan, collected by Gertrude Analoak, Margaret Seeganna, and Mary Alexander, and translated and transcribed by Gertrude Analoak and Margaret Seeganna is another collection of folktales and oral history. Focusing on the Ugiuvangmiut, this one also contains introductions to provide cultural context and stories written in both english and the original Inupiaq.

The Winter Walk by Loretta Outwater Cox is an oral history about a pregnant widow journeying home with her two children having to survive the harsh winter the entire way. This is often recommended with a similar book detailing Athabascan survival called Two Old Women.

Dictionaries and Language Books

Iñupiat Eskimo Dictionary by Donald H. Webster and Wilfred Zibell, with illustrations by Thelma A. Webster, is an older Inupiaq to English dictionary. It predates the standardization of Inupiaq spelling, uses some outdated and even offensive language that was considered correct at the time of its publication, and the free pdf provided by UAF seems to be missing some pages. In spite of this it is still a useful resource. The words are organized by subject matter rather than alphabetically, each entry indicating if it's specific to any one dialect, and the illustrations are quite charming.

Let's Learn Eskimo by Donald H. Webster with illustrations by Thelma A. Webster makes a great companion to the Iñupiat Eskimo Dictionary, going over grammar and sentence structure rather than translations. The tables of pronouns are especially helpful in my opinion.

Ilisaqativut.org also has some helpful tools and materials and recommendations for learning the Inupiat language with links to buy physical books, download free pdfs, and look through searchable online versions

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

song !

Bellamy Blake - Polis

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ They met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: sfw, angst, spoilers, emotional cheating, grounder reader

Waking up you were met with the familiar sounds of busy streets, sounds of horses, and bells as people tried to attract traders towards their shops; most would call these sounds annoying or obnoxious but you called them home.

Sitting up you stretched and let out a small yawn, washing away the exhaustion. Throwing your wolf fur bedsheets off the cold air nipped at your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. You shivered as your bare feet met the cold wood below you.

Walking to your dresser you pulled out one of your usual outfits. A pair of leather jeans with laces running along the sides, a long-sleeved shirt, and a ripped-up gray T-shirt to go over that due to the chilly weather this morning.

Placing on your black leather boots you made your way downstairs, to your small wood shop. You made all kinds of wooden things. Wooden bowls, plates, sculptures, commissions, and even toys for children.

Your shop had become well-loved by the people of Polis.

Gathering the small tools you needed to carve the wood you sat down and placed a bucket between your feet for the excess wood that fell. It was a good fire starter that you often gave out to the people of Polis.

Picking up a tool you began the familiar practice, going for a little bunny. They had been your favorite animal.

You were finishing up the bunny when you heard the sudden commotion and bustling streets come to a halt, placing down the bunny on your shop's front desk you looked up and found people lined up at their respective shops, letting three people pass peacefully.

One was a blonde-haired girl, another was an older man with speckled hair and a beard, and the last was a fairly attractive black-haired guy with freckles. The blonde and noir were holding hands before he locked eyes with your shop, pointing before walking over. Your nerves were all over the place, what could they have wanted?

He had approached your shop, entranced with the tiny sculptures, landing at the one in front of you.

He had spoken but you couldn't understand that well, the only word you could understand was 'you'.

Suddenly standing up and taking the bunny in your hand you made a motion for him to take it.

"Beja, disha gon yu." Please, this is for you. /

You spoke with a smile and saw him shake his head in a 'no' motion, bringing his hands up and waving them with a smile.

You insisted, "Beja," And after a few seconds, he gave in, taking the small bunny with a goofy grin, admiring the talent in his hands.

Before he could give anything in return Clarke rushed to two into the tower, speaking words you could barely understand.

All you could do was stand there in awe of the situation that just passed.

The streets covered back in crowds of people and the bustling streets once again started.

The day came and went with every few customers as everyone was hiding, not wanting to cross paths with the Skaikru people.

You, on the other hand, stayed open for as long as you could. Wishing the boy from before would visit. You couldn't understand what made the boy so intriguing, maybe it was the way he didn't wanna accept the gift without anything to give, or maybe it was the way his black locks complimented his dirty freckles, or the way he admired your art so intently, or how his voice sounded speaking his mother-tongue.

It was your first run-in with the Skaikru people, so you had no clue who they were or the importance they held within the clans.

You had originally been from Floukru, the boat people, who believed in peace, and you still did. But you wanted to reach other people with your talents, wanted to see the world past the fish-filled sea. So after multiple promises to Luna, she gave you your wish, and if at any time you wanted to shed always accept you back.

The darker it got the more lights were lit and the less people who crowded the streets, and with every minute was a minute more where your exhaustion caught up to you.

Lana, from Azgeda, approached your shop. Lana was a good friend of yours, one of the first friends you made since you came to Polis. She traded you some meat and in return would take two sculptures she found mesmerizing that day.

"Heya, Lana," You greeted with a smile as she placed the small bag full of salted meat on the table. "Ha yu?" How are you?/

She swiftly returned my smile, examining the sculptures laid on the table.

"otaim gud, mochof," Always good, thank you?/

Lana was a woman of few words, but she was a kind person.

In her hands was a gorilla, and a fox.

"Pauna!" She said excitedly, she loved Pauna the gorilla.

The conversation was cut short when the people from Skaikru approached your shop, you gave Lana and nod and she returned it, eyeing the three before walking off.

Looking towards them you noticed the blonde once again hand in hand with the raven-haired boy.

"Komba raun?" came back?/ You greeted, only for the black-haired one to rip a patch off the arm of his black jacket, now handing it to you.

You took it from him, examining the patch with a smile.

It was a black patch, stars above a rocket.

"Ai Bellamy kom Skaikru, yu?" I'm Bellamy from Skaikru, you? /

You were surprised at his Trigdasleng, though it was a simple greeting it showed he tried.

You giggled before replying, "Ai y/n kom Floukru,"

"Clarke, Kane," Bellamy pointed to the people standing behind him, Kane moving up holding out his hand.

"Hei, y/n," Kane greeted, a smile evident. Though you weren't sure why he had his hand out you took it and he shook it. A confused look on your face made Bellamy smile.

Clarke had seemed to have enough from the greeting.

"Let's go," Clarke rushed, the two men nodding their heads. Before leaving Bellamy turned to take on last look at you, but you watched the entire time he left, repeating his name in your head over and over.

The next two days had been painful, metaphorically and physically. You had been distracted every waking minute, mind always going back to Bellamy. Being so distracted you even cut your thumb on accident. But it had created a cool black pattern on the sculpture so you didn't mind all too much.

When Lana would come around you'd beg her to teach you some English words, you could form semi-comprehensible sentences now.

You tried to forget about Bellamy, telling yourself you never see him again and that he wouldn't be thinking of you.

You were more than wrong.

Bellamy had been thinking of you since the moment he got back in the rover that day, he knew it was wrong, he knew he should be happy with Clarke, but he couldn't help his mind going back to you. He even got Lincoln to teach him more Trigdasleng, though it took a lot of persuasion and questions he couldn't answer for fear Lincoln would tell Clarke.

Every moment he got he would look at the bunny, hold it in his pocket for comfort, stare at it lovingly before bed, relishing in the warm feeling it brought him. You brought him. Every day he'd wondered when the next trip to Polis was.

Clarke knew something was up with Bellamy but she couldn't quite catch what was up, well, until he asked when their next trip to Polis was. Bellamy had always dreaded trips to Polis, hating the way the Grounders would stare. But Clarke found herself not caring, for reasons beyond her comprehension. She found herself looking forward to Polis as well, looking forward to Lexa.

So when the familiarly busy street died down, the happiness inside you shot to the roof.

Placing down the dark-wooded bunny you looked excitedly for the black-haired boy, nerves growing even more when he approached your stand.

"Hei-"

"Hello-"

You both spoke at the same time in your opposite language, a shocked look on your faces soon being replaced by fits of giggles.

"We'll be in the castle, Bellamy," Clarke said, giving a warm smile to you both.

Bellamy only nodded, quickly returning his attention to you.

"I thought you didn't know English?" Bellamy asked with a smile.

"I didn't, not well," You said after processing his sentence "Lana, the girl with meat taught me,"

"Well, it's very impressive,"

"impressive...?"

He thought for a moment, "gud,"

You smiled, something he loved seeing now.

"New sculptures?" He asked, lifting one up for you to correlate the word.

Your face beamed, always excited to talk about your work, "Sha! Thought of you! Dark wood, dark hair, nami?" Yes, know what I mean/

Bellamys face flushed at your words, bringing out the other bunny from his pocket, "Yeah, I take it everywhere with me," He handed it to you.

You examined how dirty it had gotten, "Looks like me now," You said, a giggle following after. You handed the bunny back and he did the same, a silence fell between both of you, not an awkward one, a silence where you both took in each other, neither of you wanting this moment to end.

"Come, glong raun," join /

You motioned for him to jump over the stand. "I'll teach you,"

Bellamy didn't hesitate to jump over, landing inches near you.

Taking in his scent you flushed, he smelled good, manly-like.

Bellamy thought you smelled amazing, and you did, every morning you'd rub vanilla oil into your neck and arm areas, and it worked wonders.

Getting up you pulled a small stool next to you, motioning him to sit, which he happily did. Once you sat and faced him you handed a tool and a small chunk of wood you had taken the bark off of already.

The smaller stool made him face-to-face with you, now letting him fully take in your face.

"Just ease into it," You spoke softly, showing him how to do it, though he was too busy looking at how focused you were, how you bit your lip when you concentrated.

You looked back up at him, expectantly.

Snapping out of his thoughts he tried his best to mimic your movements, though his turned out rigid and rough, making you laugh.

"You are in control," You said, going back to carving, as did he.

Twenty minutes had passed and you were finished, you had made a fish.

Looking over to his he made a... cat? dog? It looked like something you'd see in your nightmares, but it was his so you loved it all the same.

You patiently waited till he was done, which only took three more minutes till he gave up.

"I just don't have gentle hands like you," He said, a compliment hidden in plain sight. You laughed again, he loved it when you did, he loved that you found him funny.

"I love the cat," You said, taking it in your hands with a small smile, feeling the rough edges.

He scoffed amusingly, "It's a deer," To which you busted out laughing, throwing apologies his way. You laughed so hard you almost fell out of your seat, Bellamy had to hold your sides to hold you in place

After calming down you noticed the position you were in, Bellamy's hands on your hips, the big, calloused hands bringing a newfound warmth to your sides.

Even though you were no longer laughing neither of you made any motion to move.

Well until you were interrupted by a teary-eyed Clarke and a distraught Kane.

"Bellamy, we need to go, now!" She yelled, Bellamy quickly letting go before giving you one last look. He hopped over the stand and walked towards the rover, Clarke explaining.

You were sure she was mad at you for being so intimate with Bellamy, you were far from right.

Clarke had explained Bellamy Lexa's death, how Titus had shot her in an attempt to take Clarke's life, and how the world would end in 2 months.

For two months you hadn't seen Bellamy, hadn't seen Skaikru.

Lexa's death hit Polis hard. Thieves are more evident now that there was no true commander, they never hit my shop, who would want to steal wood? Wood you give out for free anyway.

Lana was a no-show as well, last you heard she got food poisoning from fish, you had hoped she was okay.

People had been getting sick more as well, spores being found on the dead bodies around Polis. They held a conclave a few days prior, for a bunker to survive the radiation, Luna fought in it, for Floukru and death. But the water thought it was her time to return.

You were closing up shop for the night when you heard a familiar voice coming from downstairs.

"y/n, y/n!" It was Bellamy.

You rushed downstairs, practically tripping over the steps, his voice had a tinge of urgency. He was dressed in an orange suit with a helmet on.

"I need you to come with me, now," He demanded, an extra suit in hand.

"What? Why?"

You couldn't just leave my life here, though it was small it was peaceful and enjoyable.

"I'll explain on the way, we don't have much time,"

You shook your head, a wave of fear washing over you.

"Please, I can't leave you here, I.." He cut himself off hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, bell..." You felt tears pricking at your eyes, watching his already sliding down his cheeks.

"Please, stay safe in the bunker," Bellamy pleaded, you nodded as the rover honked in urgency, he left the suit on the desk and rushed off to the rover, looking back to make sure of your answer.

You wanted to so badly go with him, but something was stopping you. Fear, anxiety for what the future held. Once the rover departed you grabbed Bellamy's deer and suit and headed towards the bunker, Indra greeting you.

"Last for Floukru?"

Everything in you was telling you to turn around, and find comfort in the radiation-soaked forest, Luna had always told you to listen to your instinct.

You shook your head, a concerned look growing on Indra's face, "We won't be able to open the doors for 5 years,"

"May we meet again, Indra kom Trikru,"

"May we meet again, y/n kom Floukru," She nodded to the guards outside the hatch, entering before closing it, a loud locking sound coming from inside.

You walked back to your stand, placing the suit on with the helmet. A bittersweet feeling took over your body as you heard people scream, people you knew, your friends. The last thing you heard was a loud crash before passing out.

You hadn't expected to wake up, you had fully accepted death. So when you awoke it was a surprise to you. An even bigger surprise to see Clarke hauling big rocks from the bunker zone. Slowly taking in your surroundings everything was covered in sand, you couldn't even recognize Polis anymore. The huge castle in the middle is now the size of a house.

Once you took in you reached for Bellamy's deer, relief replacing your panic with a sigh, gaining the attention of Clarke. Who was now sweaty.

"C'mon, I'll teach you to drive, and explain along the way."

It had been 58 days since Bellamy went to space. 58 days and 57 nights you spent thinking of him. You and Clarke had made it to Shallow Valley, it was like the explosions completely missed the Valley, but the radiation didn't. Clarke had found a nightblood in the woods while I radioed the ring, you had done it every day since she found the mini panel and radio. It gave you hope, hope that they made it, hope that everything was okay.

"Anyway, I still have your deer, Bellamy. I wonder if you have the bunny I made."

Your words got cut short by Clarke's scream, and you instantly shot up and ran in the direction of the noise.

Clarke had been caught in a bear trap.

Was this from the girl?

You undid the hinges, successfully freeing her with one last scream.

"Can you walk?" You asked, staring down at the bloodied ankle.

"No," She let out between grunts of pain.

It had been 1968 days since then, or in other words, 5 and a half years, and with every passing day, you lose hope. What if they had run out of air? What if they didn't even make it to the ring?

Bellamy was looking out the window of the ring, staring at the small dot of green while fiddling with the wooden bunny. He had thought about you every day since he got here, cherishing the memories spent between you and him. Ghosts of your touches remained on his skin, a fond memory of your being. Today was the day they finally went back down to the ground. Having just enough fuel to land. He didn't know if you were dead or alive, part of him was scared to find out either answer.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a loud rumbling sound, shaking the earth every time it got closer.

Clarke and Maddi had rushed by my side, tears pouring out of your eyes at the thought he was really alive.

The rumbling sound ceased when they landed below the cliff of Shallow Valley, you raced into the rover, waiting for Maddi and Clarke to hop in before speeding down to their landing spot.

When you arrive the door to the spaceship is already open, Raven and Emori checking out the damage to the ship, Murphy practically kissing the ground, and Monty and Harper are hugging.

Their attention was soon drawn to the rover, and then you saw him.

Bellamy climbed out of the ship, locking eyes with you from the car.

Opening the door slowly you stepped out, in disbelief of the sight in front of you. Once reality hit you ran to him, jumping in his arms as tears began to pour again, soaking his shirt with tears.

You had dreamed of this moment for 2,026 days.

Your grip on him was tight but not as tight as his grip. Bellamy felt as if you'd vanish in thin air.

"2,026 days, Bell," You breathed out into the crevice of his neck. Still refusing to let go.

Bellamy felt something hard on your pocket, he pulled it out and a wide grin fell on his face.

"You kept it? All this time?" He asked, examining the rough edges, the memory clear in his mind like it was just yesterday.

"I couldn't lose it, it was the only thing I had of yours,"

Bellamy swore he could continue crying, he cupped your face, examining how little changed about you.

"How are you alive?" Bellamy asked.

You grabbed ahold of his hands and rubbed circles on the back of them, "Nightblood, I could never tell anyone before,"

"She's the girl you wouldn't shut up about?" A guy spoke, who you assumed was Murphy from Clarke's stories and drawings.

Both you and Bellamy flushed at Murphy's words, stepping back to let Clarke and the others reunion.

It had been a few hours since everyone headed back to the Shallow Valley village. You and Bellamy were perched on the cliff, gazing over the sandy dunes and stars as music played from the rover.

He had been telling you stories from the ring, though there wasn't much to tell. And you had been sharing stories from the years.

'Cause every night, I'm talking to the moon,'

"Every day, for 2,026 days, I radioed you," You had admitted, eyes still locked onto the stars. Bellamy's eyes were locked onto you, still taking in your everlasting beauty hours later.

'Still trying to get to you,'

You looked down at your hands, resting gently on your thighs.

"I love you, Bell," You said softly, just enough for him to hear.

'In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too,'

Bellamy felt his face grow hot, every worry dissipating with just a few words.

'Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?'

You felt Bellamy gently cup your cheek, making you look into his eyes. Leaning in slowly you intertwined lips, seconds now feeling like years as time stopped. The feeling of his chapped lips finally against yours was all you cared about.

After what felt like decades you pulled away with big, goofy grins. Staring intently into each other's eyes.

"I love you too,"

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[whiteirisif]

"Living with yourself is hard. Living without yourself is even harder."

Demo (release date: when the time is right)

Part One: Memories of the Phoenix

Intro: In this world, magic is split in two, no longer something one individual could wield all on their own. Instead, the art is now divided and shared between those who write spells on enchanted talismans and those who unleash the power. From this discovery, the roles of Casters and Enchanters were born. This brings us to Nanta, the ever-bustling port city near the shores of Fen – known as the sea of stars – that is home to many who seek knowledge rather than fish. Some claim that it's the epicentre not only of trade but also magic across the continent of Yulan, and they're right. Stationed on its hills is the proud Academy of Dives, which houses thousands of children and young adults of all upbringings and social standing, teaching them the art of either enchanting or casting.

You are one of those lucky students - a caster with the highest magical strength across the entire Academy paired with an equally impressive enchanter to write talismans for you. Life handed you the easiest path to glory on a silver platter.

So, what was preventing you from dominating the world at the tender age of fourteen?

Merely the fact that you want none of it.

Features:

Play as a depressed kid in a fantasy world filled with magic. It's not the best place to have mental issues. Either you or the world will have to adapt.

Try to change your bad habits - wake up on time and attend classes like everyone else. You could even show up to write the midterm exam! Or succumb to the endless cycle of running away from your problems. There's no shame in that, only consequences.

Meddle with the life of another student and help them decide their fate. You could even stop an ancient ritual from happening if you're lucky.

Mend or worsen the relationship between you and the enchanter assigned to you. Just how deep does his patience run?

Characters:

Nadir - Enchanter

Nadir is your enchanter and the first-ever friend you made after arriving in the Academy, though you doubt he shares your opinion. He is everything a student should be and everything you are not. Even though you both share a rare gift, only one of you appreciates it, which often leads to arguments between you.

Shuli - Enchanter

Shuli is your beloved roommate. She agreed to stay behind with you in the abandoned dorms, which has made your life easier. Her kindness and patience towards you knows no bounds, and when you squint, you can almost see a shining halo on top of her head. If you hadn't seen her beat up a bunch of thieves with her bare hands, you, too, would be fooled into thinking of her as someone on the weaker side.

Eris - Caster

Eris is called ‘The Darling of the Academy’ due to being everyone's favorite despite being quite the troublemaker. You even heard that so far they never lost in a single popularity contest due to their beautiful doll-like face, but that is pretty much all you know about them. That is, until - all of a sudden - they start randomly approaching you all the time.

Other Characters:

Sol & Leto

Leto and Sol - the inseparable duo with completely opposing personalities. Sol glares at people like she never had a peaceful day in her life - while Leto is a walking cloud full of smiles. People wonder how these two get along so well. You may find the answer to that soon enough.

Kara

Kara is the spirit you bonded with when you were seven. He is the closest thing you have to a family.

Gias

A carefree soul that also happens to be a teacher. Gias is a mysterious person, and you suspect they know more than they let on.

Not recommended for people that don't like:

Slice of life, age progression - or who want to play a touch-averse or a completely blank mc

Credits:

Help with the intro post @unsanctioned-if

[steve-needs-a-hug]

Halbrand as a pseudo-Jesus figure & Annatar as a pseudo-Christ

There's something eerily compelling about what the Rings of Power has done with these two guises of Sauron and how he's able to inspire trust, faith, and devotion in Galadriel and Celebrimbor. In the show, Sauron believes himself to be the one who needs to save or redeem Middle-Earth. The effectiveness in his manipulation of these characters involuntarily reminds me of the exploitative and manipulative nature of Evangelical Christianity and how powerfully it markets itself as the one way to solve people's deepest existential problems. So I thought about some parallels between Sauron's two main guises or personas in the show, and how Jesus and/or Christ is popularly depicted or understood (especially in Evangelical spaces). To me this helps illustrate why RoP!Sauron's deception is so effective, while exposing some unsettling issues I have with Evangelicalism.

Halbrand as a pseudo-Jesus

Halbrand was presented to Galadriel (as well as us the audience) as a scruffy, humble, ordinary man. Although more glamorous depictions of Jesus were common in Catholic art, the recent Evangelical trend has been to portray a humanized down-to-Earth Jesus (e.g., in The Chosen series, Jesus sweats, cries, gets hungry and tired and frustrated). Scripture allegedly described Jesus as humble and unexceptional in appearance and growing up through adversity and suffering (Isaiah 53). Halbrand is (ostensibly) a smith's aide, Jesus was a carpenter - both trades involving working and crafting with one's hands. It's then "revealed" that Halbrand comes from a lost royal lineage and Galadriel hails him as the King who can save his people from enslavement to an evil overlord - Jesus came from the line of the legendary King David and was hailed as King of Jews, expected to rescue his people from the Roman Empire's oppression.

Halbrand's surface-level resemblance to Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, can't be ignored either (this is partly why I found the character of Halbrand so insufferable in s1, he seemed like an Aragorn knockoff to me!). It's also been argued that Aragorn is a Jesus-like figure, though he turns out to be one of the most legendary fantasy heroes rather than one of the most notorious supervillains (Sauron).

Galadriel grows to trust Halbrand and view him as her friend and possibly the only person who truly understands her. Celebrimbor also develops a close friendship with Halbrand as they work together. Evangelicalism emphasizes a "personal relationship" with Jesus as your very own friend (some even lean towards a lover) who knows everything about you and helps you with your problems and gets you what you want. Jesus' disciples were also close personal friends with him while possessing little understanding of his true divine nature.

Annatar as a pseudo-Christ

Now this is where things get a lot more interesting. In 2x02, Halbrand reveals his "true nature" to Celebrimbor in an awe-inspiring display. This goosebumps-inducing moment is akin to a religious experience for Celebrimbor, who instinctively bows in reverence to this angelic figure. Christ has also been depicted and described as arriving with the clouds (Revelation 1:7), and I'm sure the religious symbolism of this scene was not lost on many viewers. Even though Annatar seems to be a powerful emissary of the divine, he still tells Celebrimbor that they are to be equal partners in their work to save Middle-Earth. An important tenet of Christianity is that Christ desires to partner with humanity to accomplish His works. This all sounds well and good to Celebrimbor, but Sauron's ultimate mode of "saving" Middle-Earth is to enslave all its peoples and creatures to his will.

Annatar is known in Tolkien's lore as the Lord of Gifts (in the episode he describes himself to Celebrimbor as "a sharer of gifts"). His gift is the knowledge of the way of Middle-Earth's salvation. Evangelical devotionals and sermons frequently refer to salvation of the soul as a "free gift" Christ offers to humanity. (I can go on about how this phrase is a redundant tautology - oops, there's another one - but that's a whole other discussion.) I will suffice to say that the term "free gift" reads like a salesperson's marketing pitch and it bothers me. Evangelicalism as a whole feels like a colonial mission converted into a giant media marketing operation - its glossy veneer of concert-like megachurch services, prepacked apologetics, and friendly approachability often conceal sinister things (exploitation, corruption, discrimination, abuse, the list goes on).

Sauron chose to prey on two vulnerable people with potential for influence - Galadriel and Celebrimbor, both feeling isolated and slighted by their people and striving for a deeply personal and important goal that feels just out of their reach. However, he didn't force himself on them. They chose to let him in, and as a result he took advantage of their trust. In Christianity, God is described as someone Who stands at the door and knocks, and for those who choose to open the door to Him, He will come in and share a meal with them as friends (Revelation 3:20). This is more or less exactly what Celebrimbor did in 2x02 when he allowed Halbrand in, gave him food and wine, and called him his friend. This was the most eerie parallel to me, inspired by some great analyses I've read about how Sauron is depicted in the show thus far.

In season 1 Sauron as Halbrand laid his strategy bare to Galadriel - give your opponent the means of mastering their greatest fear, so you can master them. I can't help but feel that this is what organized religion does - providing the sense of assurance, safety, and emotional comfort that people desperately need, in exchange for gaining control over their life choices and even their thought patterns through rules, dogma, and pressures of social conformity. Shaping minds and bending wills sounds pretty Sauron-like to me. [Disclaimer: This is not meant to be a dunk on religion as a whole, just a reflection as I work through unlearning and critically inspecting beliefs I grew up with.]

[imfoive]

Crystal Bird - Chapter 1

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, somewhat proofread WC: 6.3k A/N: First few chapters focus on childhood so a little slow paced (I like to ramble). Based on a dream. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue /

CHAPTER 1 ───────────────────

The Kingdom rejoiced with the birth of the First Princess. For three days, the realm erupted in celebrations—a riot of colors, music, and festivities that swept through every corner. Processions honoring the arrival of a long-awaited princess. Princess Sienna, the first daughter to the King and Queen of Elysium. Sister to the nation’s crown prince. 

How joyous.

Yet, the next day marked a stark contrast. Amongst the revelry, In a quiet chamber, the King's second daughter, Princess Y/N, entered the world almost unnoticed. Born of the King's mistress, her arrival lacked fanfare or ceremony. While the main palace buzzed with activity and gifts for Princess Sienna, little attention was spared for the second princess. 

Princess Y/N's fate seemed sealed—to live in the shadows of the first princess. 

The Elysium Kingdom, known for its intricate politics and noble traditions, applauded scholarly pursuits and thrived in trade. Despite its guarded stance towards neighboring realms, Elysium stands as a land of prestige and refinement. However, its greatest rivalry lie right next to them, posing as the Kingdom's greatest threat.

The Kingdom of Nightshade, ruled by the Bahng Clan.

Like its name, it was mysterious and whispers of its dark origins spread far and wide. They say that The Nightshade Kingdom had ancient ties with wolves. Their nature seems to elude as such, with tactics that mimic the beasts of the night, yet effectively defending against threats from all directions. Shroud in it's own darkness, and nestled within expansive mountains and lush landscapes, it was known for its formidable defenses and healing arts.

The Bahng Clan had led the empire for five hundred years. Once the most powerful nation, before some hundreds of years ago, a rebel had raised an army and conquered the land past The Grand Forest. 

That rebel was the first Elysium King.

So it was of no surprise that there was animosity between these two kingdoms with drastic differences. Despite past attempts at wars ending in failure, dark times for both realms, agreements for peace were made, spanning generations. Yet the underlying tensions never disappeared. These were fueled by historical grievances and their stark cultural differences.

Elysium prized intellect and social standing, viewing Nightshade's warrior culture and deep connection to nature as…primitive. In Nightshade, the highest honor one could achieve was to be recognized as a Nightshade Warrior—a protector and leader. Yet, Elysium's elite disdainfully labeled them "uncivilized" due to their rugged demeanor. The divide seemed insurmountable, leaving little common ground between the two nations. 

The history of these tensions was deeply ingrained in the minds of the royal and noble children of the Elysium Kingdom. Princess Y/N, however, grew up pondering this divide and their tensions. She couldn't help but question: If both realms followed similar paths and valued similar ideals, wouldn’t they have been a single empire then?

The second princess had always been a curious one, full of questions. Unlike her sister, who basked in attention and privilege, Y/N spent her time in the sanctuary of books. Picking up random pieces of knowledge. She wandered the palace grounds unnoticed, finding solace in quieter corners where she could contemplate the world beyond the palace walls. As a young child, she loved sneaking away into the kitchens and cellars to steal desserts and cheese. Getting bolder and bolder before finding herself under palace walls.

Y/N was great at slipping away unnoticed.

Not that her presence seemed to make a difference anyway. The young girls at the tea parties paid little attention to her. And when they did, it was to learn more about her sister. As she matured, Y/N gradually became aware of the stark disparity in treatment between herself and Princess Sienna. While Sienna effortlessly commanded attention and affection, Y/N observed from the sidelines, overshadowed by her sister's radiant presence. Sienna received everything she desired, and why shouldn’t she? She was second only to the Queen in importance, destined to lead women in society and set trends. Despite being pampered from birth, Sienna remained remarkably humble. She complimented her servants, greeted everyone with a cheeky smile and a booming voice, and adored her slightly younger sister.

Despite the stark contrast in their upbringing, Y/N harbored no resentment towards Sienna, finding solace in their occasional playful interactions. Sienna was oblivious to the disparities between them, while Y/N silently wrestled with envy, internalizing her feelings toward her sweet sister.

The Grand Forest stretched long and wide between the two kingdoms, its lush expanse often a buffer for the political tensions that defined Elysium and Nightshade. Somewhere in the middle, marked the border between the two rival nations. Within this strip of green, where trees stood tall and dense, and a river murmured its steady song, nobles from Elysium occasionally ventured for secluded picnics and gatherings. 

On one such occasion, Princess Y/N observed her sister's birthday festivities unfold. The weather had been perfect for a tea party, and although it was not officially Sienna’s birthday, the other girls of noble families wanted to host a small gathering by the river in early celebration. Though they claimed it was to celebrate both princesses. Sienna, surrounded by friends and admirers, received gifts that sparkled with enchantment of jewels and trinkets, while Y/N received modest offerings. 

Y/N did not complain, she was used to it, aware that she would probably get the things Sienna was not particularly fond of. Yet, as Sienna opened the small box and unveiled a delicate necklace—a crystal bird on a silver chain, Y/N's fascination stirred. The crystal’s iridescence captivated her, it's simplicity evoked charm. Her eyes lighting up in curiosity. Maybe it was the bright blue of the crystal. Or the fact that it was in the shape of a bird, almost three-dimensional. It was so small yet it made all the other girls “ooh” and “ahh” as it glimmered. It was something Y/N had never seen, and she wanted to feel the smooth silver of the chain in contrast to the stone. The bird dangled on the thin chain as Sienna’s maidservant clasped it around her neck, the young girl smiling widely in approval of the gift.   

    “Thank you, Lady Alyssa. It's absolutely beautiful.” Sienna exclaimed, radiant smile admiring the gift.

While Alyssa blushed shyly at Sienna’s words and the other girls encouraged her to continue opening gifts, Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the necklace. She longed to touch its smooth surface, to feel its weight against her palm. Her brows had narrowed and for the first time in a while, the envy she managed to contain, burst out a little. 

As the distractions of the gathering carried on—a game of ring toss initiated, laughter echoing through the trees. A maid began putting away all gifts, and Sienna’s nanny watched joyfully as her young lady laughed about. Y/N had lost a few rounds in, and stood at the side, watching as yet another young lady let Princess Sienna win. The almost eleven year old sighs, eyes glancing around at the wildflowers growing everywhere. The sound of the water streaming down the river not too far off, was loud even from where they were. 

Then Y/N’s gaze freezes, her eyes taking in the twinkling of the little thing on the ground. 

The crystal bird.

Her heart raced with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Could it be true? Had Sienna lost such a precious gift amidst the revelry? Her eyes darted to Sienna, to confirm whether Y/N was actually seeing correctly. Sure enough, Sienna’s neck was bare, the birthday gift no longer dangling in its spot. 

It glimmered under the bright sun, as if it was calling her.

Y/N walked over with hesitant steps, while everyone was distracted with cheering for their center of attention. Her fingers picked up the small thing, finally getting a feel of its delicate craftsmanship in her hands. 

It should have been enough, her curiosity should have subsided once she had felt it. She should have handed it back. Yet, unable to resist, Y/N slipped away into the forest, clutching the necklace—a clandestine act born of both fascination and envy.

The second princess was great at slipping away.

Meanwhile, deeper in the Grand Forest a young boy cursed under his breath. Mutterings and mumble of words he can only say in the presence of no one grew louder as he made his way down the rocky path. Frustration boiled within him, evident in his kicks at stones and the slashes of his makeshift stick he picked up along the way, against the underbrush.

    “—Stupid teacher.” The boy muttered under his breath, kicking at dead leaves.

He’s scrawny and shorter than most boys his age, but it was clear from his attire that he came from a family well off. He walked through the forest with ease, as if he had been here many times. He glances towards the loud sound of the water flowing down the river, his brows narrowing. 

The young boy was already thirteen, yet unlike most boys his age, he was still unable to do a lot of things. Though he swore none of it was his fault. It was always, “the water was too cold”, or “the sword was too heavy”. Or that he was prone to getting sick quickly. 

    “Prince Christopher!” Another voice broke through his thoughts, accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps closing in. 

His playmate and training partner, Han, appeared, panting heavily from the exertion of catching up. Christopher groans at the uninvited boy, his playmate less, training partner. Though, he was sure that this kid was put here to keep an eye on him and always be a pain in the butt. 

    “Your highness! We-we were told not to stray too far.” Han managed between breaths, his concern palpable as he surveyed their surroundings. 

Aware of the dangers lurking beyond their borders, Han's worries escalated as they ventured deeper into this unfamiliar territory. But Christopher only rolled his eyes, attempting to deflect Han's tense words with a casual remark.

    “How can you be out of breath already? Didn't you want to be my personal guard?” 

Han straightened, a mix of frustration and duty knitting his brow, keeping the words he truly wanted to say on the tip of his tongue.

    “We should not be here. Especially this deep into the forest.” He insisted instead, casting wary glances at the towering trees that obscured the sunlight.

    “You can't just run off every time you're scolded, Your Highness.” Han added, his voice tinged with exasperation as he tried to reason with the prince.

    “Whatever.” Christopher muttered dismissively, his irritation rose with a forceful jab of his stick against a nearby tree trunk.

His impatience grew, his mood darkening with each stomp into the unfamiliar wilderness while Han's concern escalated as he scanned their surroundings, a growing sense of unease knotting in his stomach.

He eyed the tall trees.

Wait. Where were they?

They didn't somehow cross over did they?

The thought lingered, fueled by a vague memory of a path they had taken—or rather he had chased after. A risky shortcut perhaps.

    “No way.” Han muttered to himself, trying to dispel the rising anxiety. 

He shook his head, attempting to regain his composure. But a rustle in the nearby bushes were enough to push him off his edge. Eyes widening, Han froze, gripped by a sudden fear that they had ventured too far—beyond the safety of Nightshade and into the precarious realm of Elysium. 

What if they were discovered by Elysium soldiers? 

What if Christopher, the Crown Prince of Nightshade, fell into enemy hands?

The consequences were dire, his mind racing through imagined scenarios of all the worst outcomes. A war would break out—and Han would have to fight only with the most basic training of a Nightshade warrior.

His thoughts spiraled, nearly overwhelming him with their intensity. Yet the Prince had vanished ahead, Han's anxiety peaked, and he couldn't contain a whispered exclamation.

    “Ahhh! Yo-your highness!” Han called out, his voice trembling with urgency as he sprinted in the direction Christopher had taken, eyes darting frantically in search for the prince amidst the dense foliage.

The sky was a vibrant shade of blue, the sun shining brightly, reflecting beautifully off of the water that came down the river. The young prince prances from one stone to another, and as he neared the river's edge, the view of rushing water had him captivated. The notion of swimming—a skill he had yet to conquer—taunted him. He approached the water hesitantly, the temptation to prove himself nagged at him, pushing him to the peer down, where he tested its depth with tentative prods with the wooden stick.

    “Swimming can’t be too hard.” Christopher muttered to himself, determination flickering in his eyes.

He was steadfast in doing something successful today. And he chose to master the skill of swimming. 

What a brilliant idea.

Not.

He drank water. 

Panic seized him as he struggled against the water's embrace, his stick lost to the rapid flow of the river, and fear gripping his heart. The currents, much stronger than he had imagined, were pulling him away. His hand instinctively grabbed onto a stone for dear life. The young boy began panicking, fighting for his life as he was forced to dunk under the cold water a few times.

    “H-Help!” He choked out, his cry swallowed by the river's roar

He was going to die today. He was sure of it.

But of course he doesn’t. In his moment of peril, a figure emerged from the forest's shadows. A young girl, her voice ringing clear as she rushed to his aid

    “Hold on! I've got you!” She shouted, determination etched across her features.

With a strength borne of urgency, she pulled Christopher to safety, her hands firm and reassuring. And after some struggle, both were on dry land. Christopher lay gasping, his body shivering from cold and fear. The girl knelt beside him, concern etched on her face as she patted his back gently, soothing his raw throat and chest, coughs not subsiding. His savior looks down at him in concern, towering over his drenched body. He’s unable to focus, staring at her through blurred vision. There’s water in his ears and he could barely make out what she was saying. Yet the loud shriek of someone in the distance was loud enough for him to catch. 

In this fleeting moment, a distant cry shattered their tensioned tranquility, a desperate call for “Princess!” echoing through the forest. The girl's head snapped towards the sound, urgency igniting her movements once more as she turned to leave, glancing back to look at him before disappearing.

Christopher, left alone amidst the aftermath of his near-drowning, grasped at the grassy earth, clinging to solidity as he shivered and coughed. His fingers brushed against something—a cold, pokey, stringy object—and he clutched it instinctively.

Han, who looked already spooked, had almost screamed bloody murder when he stumbled upon his master in such a state.

    “Pr-Prince!” Han's voice shattered the silence, his panic evident as he rushed to Christopher's side, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. 

Han’s eyes dart around and he’s able to connect the dots—the river and his drenching Highness. Now how would he explain this to his teacher? How would he explain to the King? Han looks back towards the direction he had come from, cursing under his breath.

He had stumbled upon a gathering of the Elysium nobles on his search for his prince, and was swiftly able to conceal his presence as he backtracked. The earlier screech had dart back here. His crazy thoughts were true and they had in fact managed to cross over somehow. On Elysium land. And they should not be staying here too long, unless they wanted to get caught.

    “Don't… don't tell anyone.” Christopher pleaded weakly, his voice a whisper.

The urgency of their escape propelled Han into action. With Christopher barely conscious and shivering uncontrollably, Han lifted him onto his back, his resolve steeling against the weight of their situation. 

    “You’re going to be a warrior, Han. Don’t be scared.” He reassures himself, as he grunts to a stand with the prince dangling off of his body.

But Han was scared. The prince had fallen unconscious by now. His body was freezing and he was trembling. It also didn’t help that the plight back towards their side was a tricky one. Han's mind raced with the implications. They had breached the border, ventured too far into foreign territory. And of all days there had to be a Princess in the forest. The young boy makes a run for it. His already weak master was going to die at this rate.

Back at the riverbank, the cheerful atmosphere that had surrounded the ring-toss game now gave way to panic and concern, unfolding before Y/N's wide eyes.      “Princess Sienna!”

The desperate cry from Sienna’s nanny pierced through the air, sending Y/N's heart hammering against her chest. The once bustling scene was now a whirlwind of concerned maids, frantic shouts, and splashing water. A guard emerged from the river, cradling Sienna in his arms, while attendants and her nanny rushed to her side. The other girls, who had moments ago been giggling and playing, were now in tears, calling out to their beloved princess.

Y/N's anxiety spiked, and without thinking, she grabbed hold of a nearby maid who was on the verge of tears herself.

    “What happened?” Y/N's voice trembled with worry and fear, her eyes darting between the maid and the commotion surrounding Sienna.

The maid looked down at Y/N, her expression a mix of relief at seeing the second princess unharmed and fear for what had just transpired.

    “Where did you disappear to, Princess? If something had happened to you too…” The maid's voice trailed off, her eyes wide with terror at the thought.

    “Princess Sienna was looking for her Crystal Bird and she fell into the river.” The maid explained quickly, her words rushed and breathless.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. The mention of the Crystal Bird made her stomach churn with guilt. She suddenly realized the necklace was no longer in her possession. Did Sienna's accident happen because of her? Was it her fault for taking the necklace into the forest?

Her mind raced with self-blame and worry, her hands trembling slightly as she processed the maid's words. ─────────────────────── Christopher’s eyes fluttered open to the familiar sight of the infirmary, its sterile smell mingling with the faint aroma of medicinal herbs. His head throbbed slightly, a reminder of his near-drowning experience. His training teacher and meticulous captain of the guards, Sir Elliot, stood beside him, concern etched on his usually stern face.

    “Prince Christopher!” His teacher ran at his side, eyes looking down at the boy in concern.

Christopher blinked, trying to piece together the events that led him here. Memories of struggling in the river flashed before him.

    “I’ll go notify King Bahng.” The healer darted out of the room, leaving Christopher and Sir Elliot in tense silence. 

Christopher’s gaze met his teacher’s, noticing a rare softness in Sir Elliot’s expression.

    “You scared us, kid.”

Christopher felt a pang of guilt. Normally, his teacher was quick to criticize and push him relentlessly. Today was different—his teacher’s concern was genuine. The same man that the young prince has been cursing all day.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing the imposing figure of King Bahng, his face etched with relief. He rushed to Christopher’s side, enveloping him in a fatherly embrace.

    “My boy.” King Bahng sighs. 

Christopher’s guilt intensified. All day, frustration had clouded his mind, directed at those around him who now stood here with nothing but care and concern. 

    “Where’s Han?” Christopher asks, pulling out of his father’s hug.

King Bahng’s expression darkened briefly as he glanced at Sir Elliot.

    “He’s being punished for letting him fall into danger, my king.” The teacher explains

Again, guilt gnawed at Christopher. He realized the weight of his actions—not just the danger he had put himself in, but the repercussions for those around him.

After ensuring Christopher was out of immediate danger, King Bahng left the infirmary, casting a lingering look at his son who was always a breath away from a tantrum.

King Bahng was not the tyrant his reputation suggested. He ruled with care for his people, respected by his subjects despite his clan’s fierce history. Christopher, his only son and heir, had been shielded closely until recent years. But per the late Queen’s wishes, the father held back on pushing Christopher into his duties. Losing his mother early had hardened the young prince against affection, a fact that weighed heavily on his father's heart.

    “Brother.” Sir Elliot places a hand on his shoulder, bringing the King out of his thoughts.

They walked the corridors in silence before the King spoke.

    “What happened today could have been dangerous. That boy had failed to prevent The Prince from endangering himself.” The King let’s put a deep breath,

    “But he also did his duty of bringing him back to safety. Don’t be too harsh on him.” The King advises.

    “Do not worry, Your Majesty. His punishment is modest. My son is overseeing that he is receiving it diligently.” Elliot reassured with a nod.

The King raises a brow, looking at his brother in wonder.

    “You mean your ten year old son?”

    “Even at such a young age he takes after me.” The training master hums, his pride evident as they walk, proud that his son already embodied the values of duty and discipline instilled in him.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the training grounds, Han’s strained expression belied the punishment he endured. The young boy, overseeing him, groaned with boredom.

    “You can take a break. I’ll make sure Father doesn’t find out.”

    “Prince Felix, you’re supposed to be watching over me. Not encouraging me to slack off.” Han sighed, muscles trembling from the wall-sits.

Felix kicks at the dirt, sitting down on the wooden chair he had been in for the past hour while he supervises. His butt hurt and the evening brought cold winds, making the child shiver.

    “Wall-sits are stupid.” He mumbles rather unenthusiastically.

    “How is His Highness’ health? Have you heard anything?”  Han asks, looking up from his hovering position.

    “How would I know? No one tells me anything.” Felix grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Clearly a little upset the two older boys went out for an adventure without him (which was probably a good thing seeing the result). The sight of him is enough to prove that he was indeed Christopher’s cousin.

Their banter was interrupted by an aide from the infirmary rushing toward them, with Prince Christopher trailing behind, warmly dressed.

    “Chris!” Felix exclaims, his small body jumped up from his chair, startling Han who struggled to maintain his balance.

    “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be recovering.” Felix states, scowling at the poor aide, who clearly did nothing but follow orders.

    “I’ve come to receive my punishment for putting the Crown Prince in danger.”

Both Han and Felix stared in disbelief at the Crown Prince’s unexpected statement.

    “Your Highness…” Han’s voice trailed off, touched by Christopher’s unexpected maturity.

Chris ignores the stupid look on Han’s face, continuing to stare into the darkening sky.

As the evening wore on and the chill set in, Felix was sent back inside, while Christopher sat beside Han, mirroring his punishment. Unlike the prince who had just begun, the younger boy’s legs give out and he grimaces, finally collapsing onto the dirt. Groaning, he looks to his master.

    “You really don’t have to continue, Your Highness.”

And immediately Christopher also sits on the ground next to, making Han stares blankly. 

    “It wasn’t mandatory for me to continue.” He smugly states, and Han blinked, dumbfounded by Christopher’s declaration, a mixture of frustration and relief. He was still the pain-in-the-ass prince.

The playmate massages his thighs, and the Crown Prince watches with guilt.

    “I’m sorry.” He mutters, making Han’s eyes shoot up at him in surprise once again.

    “You’re younger than me, yet you were able to think quickly and bring us back to safety. While I—I’m so immature, I almost got both of us killed.” 

Han falls silent. 

It’s true that If the Crown Prince had died under his watch in that river, Han knew he'd face a punishment fit for the crime. Despite being only a year and a half into training and a few months as Christopher’s playmate, Han always had his hands full with the prince, yet weirdly the younger boy didn’t complain. Maybe it was his desperation to become a warrior, or maybe he had grown accustomed to the prince’s antics. The apology, however, was a first. The same kid who normally scoffed at him daily now apologizing brought a smile to Han's face.

    “It is my duty, Your Highness. I still want to be your personal guard in the future.” Han’s words echoed a maturity beyond his years.

    “Call me Chris. There���s no one else here.” The Prince smiles in return.

Han blinks taken aback.

    “How can I? It is not prop—”

We’re going to spend a lot of time together, especially once you become my guard. Do you intend on making it awkward after every friendly joke? Just Chris is fine.” 

    “Okay. Chris.” Han hesitated, but casually addressed.

A comfortable silence settled between the newfound friends. The sun had set, the night air growing cold. Han urges Christopher to return to his warm bed, while Chris helps the young boy up, sore from his punishment. As they walked, Han suddenly remembered something, halting in his steps.

    “Oh!—” He delved into the pocket of his shorts.

    “You had this in your hands when I brought you back.” 

His palm opens, producing the Crystal Bird, its azure hues catching the starlight. Chris eyes the piece of jewelry, taking the delicate necklace, its chain slightly tarnished and scratched but still gleaming. The memory of his savior—the mysterious girl who appeared and vanished—flickered in his mind. A part of him thought he had imagined it, but there had actually been someone there. A girl. She was…

    “A princess.” Chris mumbles.

    “A princess?!” Han’s eyes widened, glancing around cautiously.

    “Don’t tell me you met one of those young ladies from the gathering by the river.” Han's whispers were strained.

Chris furrows his brows in confusion.

    “What gathering?” 

Confusion mingled with shock as the two new friends realized they had much to discuss—stories to share from their separate but interlinked ordeals. The night stretched on, filled with conversations and revelations, the bond between Christopher and Han deepening amid the secrets they unraveled. ─────────────────────── Princess Sienna had fallen unconscious. Her condition stirred panic among the staff and nobles. The royal doctor’s frantic efforts to stabilize her continued through the night. The maids and servants present at the party were imprisoned in the dungeon, accused of negligence. The nobles whose daughters had been present at the tea party were standing around in fear. If anything had happened to the princess they would all be punished. Y/N was confined to her palace.

Princess Y/N lay in her bed, tormented by guilt over the stolen gift and the consequences that followed. The little child blamed herself for everything that had happened this afternoon. She simply wanted to take a closer look at the pretty thing. She had done nothing wrong. Her mother’s stern words echoed in her mind, emphasizing the need for secrecy.

Upon her return she had confessed her wrong doings to her mother, and her mother had scared her even more.

    “Do you understand what you have done?” Her mother’s cold gaze had bore into her teary eyes.

The tight grip of the older woman’s fingers on the child’s arms made her terrified.

    “You must never speak of this. You must never confess to taking that gift.” Her words were cold, awaiting for the trembling Princess to respond with what she wanted to hear.

    “If anyone asks, you simply have wandered off  following a rabbit, or a butterfly. You know nothing of what had happened while you were distracted. Do you understand?” 

Y/N broke out into sobs in her mother’s grasp. She was scared, for her sister, for the maids who were all going to get punished.

    “Mother, it’s wrong to lie.” She cries.

Her mother shuts her eyes in frustration, fingers digging deeper into the child’s arms.

    “It is but a white lie. One that will protect you.” The mother sighs, loosening her grip, slender fingers wiping away at her tears.

    “Princess Sienna will recover. As for the maids, they’ll simply be replace.” Lady Katherine continued, her voice softer but laced with underlying urgency.

    “But for you, my daughter, the consequences could be severe. If you confess or anyone even hears a word of if, you’ll be branded a thief. Your reputation will be ruined. No one will want to associate with you. Is that what you want?”

The child looked into her mother’s now warming eyes, a small smile on her lips. Pulling her into a hug, the mother pats at her hairs.

    “Mother just wants what’s the best for you.”

The child slowly nodded, her mother’s words enough to convince herself she did nothing wrong, her stern words cut through Y/N's resolve, shaping her perception of right and wrong.

Lady Katherine, once celebrated as one of the most beautiful women in high society, had a past marked by humble beginnings in a lower-ranking noble house. Despite her family's title, they lacked wealth, a circumstance that drove Katherine to leverage her beauty as her ticket to a better life. It was this charm that caught the eye of the nation's most powerful man—the King himself.

In the lavish court where the King entertained many women, Katherine swiftly became his favored companion. While she could never match the Queen in authority, Katherine secured her place by bearing the King's child—a daughter who would forever tie her to the royal family, ensuring their future amidst the uncertainties of courtly life.

The question lingered, however, whether Katherine's actions were born out of genuine concern for her daughter's wellbeing or driven by her own desire to escape a life of want.

Despite their lower status within the royal hierarchy, Y/N’s title guaranteed attention from elite suitors in her future. Safeguarding Y/N’s royal lineage shielded her from the uncertainties Katherine had endured in her youth. For Katherine, Y/N’s royal birthright represented a promise of a brighter future.

And that was enough for the caring mother.

As dawn approached, Princess Sienna’s fever finally broke, bringing a collective sigh of relief throughout the palace. The noble families, apprehensive during her illness, were allowed to return home. The maids and servants, deemed responsible, were dismissed from service. Just as Lady Katherine said would happen. Y/N’s thoughts raced. Sienna's recovery eased some of her fears, but guilt over the consequences weighed heavily on her conscience. All those people had lost their livelihoods because Sienna had fallen into the river while looking for the crystal bird. The crystal bird that was in her possession at the time. And on top of all that she had lost it while trying to save that boy.

Y/N's head snapped up from her pillow, her thoughts immediately returning to the boy she had rescued from the river the day before. Her mind wracked, dread gripped her as she wondered if he had survived or if he still lay by the water's edge.

For an idle princess, she had too many worries.

The next afternoon, while the court was busy tending to the still fragile Sienna, the second princess slipped out of her room, ignoring her mother’s instructions to stay put. Concern for the boy she had rescued from the river consumed her thoughts.

Dodging through a hidden hole in the wall she had discovered not long ago, the young girl brushed away dirt and clutched a crochet bag, its contents clinking softly as she ran. Emerging near the riverbank where she had found the boy, her heart raced with fear at the thought of finding him lifeless. Sunlight filtered through the forest, casting dappled shadows on the lush greenery around her. Critters scurried away at her approach. Standing by the river where left him, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, she hadn’t stumbled upon a tragedy.

    “Are you really a princess?” The sudden voice startled Y/N, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

She spun around, eyes widening as she faced the boy from yesterday—alive and well, a grin on his face.

    “Were you the princess that saved me?” He asked again, his gaze filled with nothing but gratitude and curiosity.

    “I...I suppose I was.” Y/N replied hesitantly.

Christopher's expression softened, his eyes showing genuine appreciation. Y/N observed the scrawny boy before her, noting his tidy appearance compared to their first meeting. Despite his wealth and status, he appeared unusually timid, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and glancing at her shyly.

    “I wanted to thank you, Princess.” He said with a warm smile. “You really saved my life.”

Y/N blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by his heartfelt words. She had never been thanked so sincerely before, and she didn’t quite know how to respond.

    “I-I have desserts. Do you want some?” She stumbled over her words, fumbling through her bag. 

Christopher’s eyes widened with curiosity as she produced bandages, sewing thread, and finally, a bundle of cookies.

    “They have raspberry filling.” She added, looking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

His grin widened as he picked up one of the cookies, crumbs falling as he took a delicious bite.

The two sat down against a sturdy tree. Y/N ventured to ask how he had ended up in the river in the first place. Chris tried to explain but faltered into embarrassed silence.

    “I slipped.” He finally managed to say, a lie.

    “What about you? What were you doing all the way down here?” He takes another bite of his second cookie. 

Y/N hesitated, recalling her mother’s stern instructions.

    “I was following a rabbit.” She fibbed, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

Chris nodded, realizing she must be younger than he had initially thought.

    “I heard there was a birthday celebration for the yesterday. Did I ruin the birthday party?” His questioning gaze snapped Y/N out of her thoughts, still preoccupied with her little white lie.

    “Ah—birthday? My birthday isn’t until next week.” She quickly responds.

    “Oh! We must meet then. I know of this delicious cake that our cook makes. It’s the fluffiest. I’ll be sure to let you have a taste.” He exclaims, excitement written on his face.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her. Her birthday was never a grand affair compared to Sienna’s, but seeing this boy so enthusiastic about celebrating her birthday made her heart swell with happiness.

After the cookies had been enjoyed and thank-yous exchanged, the two sat in companionable silence, wondering what else to talk about. Before Chris could speak, a soft “psst” came from Han’s direction behind a nearby tree. Chris glanced back at his friend, who signaled with hand gestures that it was time to go. 

Y/N narrows her gaze, wondering what he was looking at, unable to see from her spot.

    “I must head back, Princess. It was truly a pleasure meeting you again in better circumstances,” Chris said, standing and extending his hand to help her up.

Y/N took his hand gracefully, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and curiosity about their budding friendship.

    “Shall we meet again soon? I would also like to give something in return for the cookies.” Chris suggested with a warm smile.

    “Aren’t you going to give me cake?” She questioned.

    “Surely not in return for the cookies! The cake is a birthday gift. I wouldn’t take anything in return for it.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with sincerity.

The princess ponders for a moment, but of course agrees.

    “You must let me try one of your favorite desserts then. How about two days from now, at the same time as today?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect! I’ll bring something special for us.”

After confirming their next meeting, Chris turned to leave, but Y/N’s sudden call made him turn swiftly.

    “Ah—you didn’t tell me your name.”

    “It’s Chr…” He hesitated, then decided, “It’s Chan,” grinning broadly.

    “Chan...”

Y/N repeated his name under her breath, committing it to memory, and nodded in acknowledgment as her new friend began taking backward steps. He bowed respectfully and after she returned his bow gracefully, both parted, minds swirling with thoughts of their meeting and anticipation for the next one.

    “Your Highness, you will surely be the death of me.” Han sighed, stepping forward with an exasperated expression.

    “You’ve said your thanks and had your fill of cookies. Can we please return now?” Han's voice held a hint of pleading.

Chris beamed at his friend, genuinely happy yet also amused by Han’s concern. He threw an arm over Han's shoulder, causing the younger boy to stumble slightly as they began walking away together.

    “Oh, my friend Han, don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” Chris reassured him, his tone earnest.

Han sensed that his anxiety would only continue to grow as he followed the energetic crown prince back towards the palace.

Poor playmate, resigned to the fact that Chris’s adventurous spirit was bound to keep him on his toes. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969,

[stray-kaz]

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice : a Sanji x f!reader Christmas drabble

Summary: Sanji makes your favourite Christmas treat.

"Sanji wants you in the kitchen."

You looked up from your drawing to see Usopp standing over you, hands on his hips. You shaded your eyes from the sun and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, does he now?"

Usopp shrugged and nodded.

"That's what he said."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He's making you something special. For Christmas."

You flipped the cover on your art pad and stood up, shoving your pencil in your pocket. You made your way to Sanji's haven, the familiar scent of gingerbread wafting through the crack in the door. You pushed it open and wandered in, hopping up onto the nearest clean table and swinging your legs back and forth.

"All right, I'm here" you announced, balancing your pad across your thighs.

Sanji glanced up from where he stood on the other side of the kitchen and grinned at you.

"Hey, love" he greeted you. "I see Usopp found you. Took him long enough."

"He gets lost almost as easily as Zoro does" you muttered. "So, what did you want me for?"

"First things first..."

Sanji sauntered over to you and poked the cover of your art book.

"Show it to me?" he asked hopefully.

You flattened your hands on top of it and shook your head, biting your lip. Sanji's baby blues flicked from your face to your pad and back again.

"Do you draw me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

You said nothing, but could feel heat warming your face as he looked at you. When he realised you weren't going to budge, Sanji turned away and returned to the bench he had been working at when you walked in. He carried across to you a platter covered by a white patterned cloth.

You eyed it and then him, curious. He nodded for you to remove the cloth, so you reached up with one hand, the other still securely planted against the pad on your lap. You draped the cloth over to the side and your eyes widened at the sight of so many Christmas cookies arrayed on the tray, the scent of ginger rising to your nose.

Trees, stars, hearts, angels. You set the platter aside, freeing Sanji's hands, and hugged him, pulling him against your knees. He went willingly, if a little surprised, and propped his chin on your head, his hands set either side of your hips for balance.

"Thank you" you mumbled. "They look lovely."

He chuckled.

"Should taste even better, love."

He reached around you and plucked a star off the tray, holding it out towards your mouth. You carefully bit off one of the corners and closed your eyes while Sanji grinned at you, pride making his eyes glow. You took the cookie from him and held it between your teeth as you picked up your art pad and flipped the pages to the latest drawing.

Sanji's eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little as he looked down at a perfectly rendered black and white of himself working in the kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. The only colour was in his eyes.

"Why?" he asked you quietly, his voice soft, even for him.

You shrugged, looking shyly into his eyes.

"A trade" you answered, just as softly. "A gift for a gift."

Sanji hesitated for a moment or two, but then he gently cupped your face in his hands, dipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He was warm and tasted of cinnamon and icing from his taste testing.

The art book slid onto the floor with a flutter of pages as you reached up into his hair, tangling blond around your fingers. As he pulled away a bit, he flicked his tongue over your bottom lip.

"Cookie crumbs" he murmured, when you looked questioningly up at him.

You felt heat burn your cheeks again and closed your eyes. Sanji laughed and then you felt him kiss you again, the tips of his fingers sinking into your hair.

"Merry Christmas, love."

Merry Christmas: @writingmysanity @elizabeth-karenina

[papermonkeyism]

This post can be found in my devArt, (link), please use that for linking if you need the reference, thank you!

Wingbeans

The funny little griffin-y things colloquially known as wingbeans are flightless, roughly cat-sized, seemingly mammalian creatures with curious nature.

They resemble bipedal cats with chicken feet, but not quite. They are usually covered in soft, floofy fur, except for their hind legs and pawpads. They have soft snoot covering their mouths, which they will boop into things and people they like. Snoot bumps are their way of saying hello.

They have big, bright eyes with vertical slit pupils, and their nostrils are hidden beneath the floof of the snoot. They trust their sight and hearing more than their sense of smell.

They have short arms with three fingers, that are usually held tucked against their chest. The fingers usually have hidden cat claws.

Their wings are small and covered in soft, fluffy feathers, that are used mostly as display and as an additional pair of arms when climbing. The wings have five fingers in a fluff mitten, each having a paw pad, which is where the name wingbean comes from. In a wild type 'bean only the thumb of the wing has a retractable claw, like a cat, to use as climbing grip and for defence.

Their legs are usually hairless from ankle down, and have four toes, three pointing forwards and a small dewclaw pointing backwards. The foot claws are dull, and non-retractable.

They usually have long floofy tails, though there are short tailed and even bobtailed variations. It is also possible to have a tuft tipped tail.

Wingbeans are omnivorous, and as a species aren't picky about what they eat, though personal preferences vary wildly.

Wingbeans can have anywhere between 1 and 4 kittens (also called beanies or beanlings) at a time, most often 2. The kittens are born within a soft leathery egg shell, and they hatch usually within few hours after birth. They nurse their young like mammals.

Mom takes care of the kittens untill they're big enough to fend for themselves, though the offspring often stays nearby even as adults. The 'beans are social creatures who enjoy hanging out with friends, so big family groups (be they actually related or adopted) aren't unusual.

Wingbeans are considered fully grown at one year old, and in the wild their life span tends to be around 20 years, though domesticated 'beans can get a lot older.

Wild wingbeans come in a wide variety of markings and their colors cover all shades of browns and grays, but some have been bred to display brighter colors and strange markings, including unnatural ones. All coat types and lengths are possible; short haired, long haired, curly coated, maned, etc.

They have no apparent sexual dimorphism, and gender appears to be an optional feature to them.

Wingbeans are meant to be fun creatures, and to bring joy and fun.

Wingbeans are not meant for making money. They can be created freely, and they may be gifted, but they shall not be sold.

If you want to get rich by making weird little griffin-y things, make your own species.

Can I make my own wingbean?

Yes you can!

Can I make wingbean adoptables?

As long as you don't sell the designs for real life money. Giving them away for free, or trading them for virtual stuff such as virtual petsites' in-game currency, or things like art or poetry is fine.

Can I make wingbean NFTs/sell them for crypto stuff?

No.

Can I commission people to draw my wingbean?

Yes! Also, while wingbeans themselves aren't meant to be bought with money, do pay artists for the work they do. Artists need to eat too.

Can I commission an artist to design me a wingbean?

I'd say that still counts under the commission clause, so yes.

Can I use them in my D&D/TTRPG campaign?

Sounds fun, sure!

What if I want my wingbean to have rainbow colors?

Sure. Maybe your 'bean was bred by a wizard or something. Have fun!

Can my wingbean have raptor claws?

Sounds awesome. Go for it!

Can my wingbean have horns or other fancy details?

Did your 'bean wander in the way just as you were about to cast polymorph, didn't it?

You said they are flightless, but what if I want my wingbean to be able to fly?

Sounds like it was either born with bigger wings, or it can levitate. Either way sounds cool.

Can I make a wingbean of a big cat species?

That might stretch the definition of a wingbean, but if you feel like it's still wingbeany enough, then sure, go for it!

Do they have whiskers?

They can, if you want.

Are wingbean legs scaly like bird feet, or leathery?

Whichever you want. Both are good.

Are there any rare or limited features or markings?

The rarity of those depend entirely on what kinds of 'beans people create. If half the people making wingbeans decide to make theirs blue, then I guess blue isn't a rare color at that point, now is it?

But how will I know if my wingbean is special?

It's special because it's yours. No wingbean belongs behind paywalls.

What would a hairless wingbean look like?

Considerably less fluffy.