#do people ever get tired of king writing the same character over and over just in different environments anyways

[oppropro]

Chapter 2 of my fanfic

I am so happy to receive the positive feedback on my story inspired by @jttw-monkeybusiness. I had a hard time writing this chapter as it is from the perspective of different pilgrims. I want their thoughts to be believable and true to their nature, while also being true to @celestialkiri 's vision of these characters in her AU. I got a bit overly ambitious with this chapter and had to cut it short; the rest of the story will continue in a 3rd chapter. This has a better narrative flow.

So without further ado; I present chapter 2 of Monkey Business based on the creations of @jttw-monkeybusiness all credit goes to her.

********

CHAPTER 2- Here's your sign

            Sun Wukong, King of Mount Huaguo, Great Sage equal to heaven, was losing his patience. His master, the monk Tripitaka once again avoided near death thanks to the valiant efforts of his disciple, Sun Wukong. The very same disciple he chose to ignore when he warned the monk of the dangers of the demon hoard that had laid a trap to kill and eat the monk. A trap so obvious even Pigsy should have seen coming. That is, if Pigsy could ever think with his brain and not his stomach.

            And what thanks does Wukong get for saving his master and his pig-headed brother? Another lecture on how violence does not solve every problem. Well, violence certainly solved that problem. Besides, if his master had simply listened to him in the first place, they could have easily avoided the demon’s trap and Wukong wouldn’t have to resort to violence.

            “Hardships we face on our pilgrimage are simply a test of faith, and it is through our faith that we will ultimately persevere.” Monk Tripitaka spoke in a slow and deliberate manner.

            “Well then start showing more faith in me!” Wukong replied.

            “This journey is not just about you.”

            “And yet it is I, once again, coming to everyone’s rescue.”

            “I appreciate that you were able to rescue us, but that does not change the fact that you do not get to dictate the path we must follow, or default to wanton violence as a solution to every obstacle.”

            “Those demons were going to eat you and the pig alive! They weren’t even coy about it! If everyone just listened to me, it wouldn’t have even been an obstacle.”

            “We cannot avoid every danger, or burden, or obstacle we face on our journey.” Tripitaka’s tone conveyed a clear message: this conversation was over. “Even if such a challenge were to fall from the heavens and land directly on us. We will face whatever lies before us head on and accept the fate that has been ordained by Buddha.”

            “Well then, Master, you can find somebody else to save your ass because I am tired of being the only one around here who-” Wukong’s sentence was cut short as, apropos of the monk’s declaration, the heavens had opened up and a strange blonde woman fell upon the angry monkey’s back.

********

            Sandy, Pigsy, and Bai Long stood at the side of a clearing and watched their brother and their master argue back and forth. They had seen this exact same scenario played out before; it was safe for them to assume that it wasn’t going to be the last. The novelty of these fights had worn off and now they simply wished they would get to the point where Wukong would learn his lesson about self-control, humility, and acceptance so they could move on with their journey. For all the talk about other people slowing him down, Wukong sure liked to waste time arguing moot points.

            However, a girl falling from the heavens and landing on their elder brother’s back was new. They and the monk stood agog staring at the unforeseen spectacle before them: the woman had hair the colour of summer sun, and her clothes were foreign. The sack that she carried on her back had fallen off, that too was made of some strange and heavenly material not found on earth.

            Her face had landed in the dirt, her legs tangled amongst the limbs of Sun Wukong, and she moaned as she cradled her temples in her arms, nursing whatever wound she incurred from her less than graceful decent from heaven.

            Tripitaka was the first to break free from his spell. Still unable to process what had just happened, he rushed to the side of the stranger in an attempt to help her sit up an regain her composure. Pigsy followed his master’s lead and the two of them were able to prop the woman up and assess her for any injuries: some bumps and scratches, all superficial. That didn’t rule out the risk of any serious, or even deadly, head wounds.

            “Little sister, are you hurt?” the monk asked. “Do you understand me? Can you open your eyes?”

            The woman replied with a whimper, as she slowly blinked her eyes several times trying to purge her tears. Pigsy watched her blue eyes dilate and constrict in an attempt to regain focus. They had never seen a foreigner before. He knew that humans in other countries looked different, and that they were bound to meet foreigners on their journey to India, but the difference in eye colour was striking. This wasn’t something to dwell on, however; the woman needed help.

            “Good, good, little sister, you’re going to be alright. Let us help you. Just keep breathing nice and slowly.” Pigsy spoke to the woman in a low, slow voice and began to exaggerate his breath in so that the stranger might mimic him.

            “HOW ABOUT THE TWO OF YOU QUIT FAWNING OVER THAT STUPID SKY WOMAN AND HELP YOUR BROTHER OUT!”

            Wukong’s voice hit the stranger like a slap to the face. She gasped as her eyes widened and she finally focused on her surroundings. Pigsy was familiar with the expression on the stranger’s face: shock, confusion, fear; a primal fight or flight reaction that all humans experience when face to face with a demon.

            The stranger’s breath became quick and shallow, Pigsy could sense her heart rate bounding. There may still have been hope that Tripitaka may calm her down, but as she looked down at his elder brother, the demon monkey trapped between her legs, flashing his fangs as he scowled at the woman, he knew what was about to happen.

            He let go of the stranger as she screamed and began kicking wildly at Wukong until they were finally untangled. As the terrified woman struggled on all fours to get up and make a mad dash into the forest, Wukong jumped up with an unwarranted sense of accomplishment. Congratulations you stupid monkey; you successfully scared a woman.

            Tripitaka went to mount Bai Long. “Sandy. Pigsy. Please, help me look for our new companion. Monkey, you stay here and watch over our camp.”

            Whatever pride Wukong felt fled his body as soon as his master spoke. “What? Why are you chasing after her? She means nothing to us.”

            “Where you not paying attention to what our master had said?” Pigsy spat.

            “Yes. Even if such a challenge were to fall from the heavens and land directly on us. Well, I just passed buddha’s test. I overcame that challenge and didn’t even resort to violence. I guess I have learned my lesson now and we can all continue on our way. Oh thank you great and wise buddha! You have made me a better monkey.”

            “You have learned nothing,” Tripitaka snapped. “Now we have to go find this woman lest a fate worse than crashing into you befalls her.”

            The monkey growled. His blood was beginning to boil.

            “Then I will bring this challenge back to you, master.”             Wukong took off in the same direction as the woman before the monk could object. beginning to boil. He raced through the canopy following the stranger’s trail. The path she left was easy enough to follow. Even if it wasn’t glaringly obvious, Wukong could smell her: her scent; her blood; her fear. He could hear her: her ragged breath; her racing heart; her pitiful cries for help. The great monkey king would catch up to this pathetic whelp in no time and return her to his master so he can figure out what he wants to do with her. But before he brought her to his master, Wukong had some questions of his own to ask the woman. At the very least, this stupid woman owed Sun Wukong an apology.

[aritsukemo]

Behind Closed Curtains | Freminét

Freminét x HydroArchon!reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! I got inspired to write this a few weeks ago when I read @freminet-writings's hcs about Freminét dating male Hydro Archon!reader but lost motivation and picked this back up so I apologize if this fic seems kinda all over the place or a little awkward! 😓

Also here's the link to that hc. I really liked it and if you like Freminet, I definitely think you should check out @freminet-writings's blog! She makes some really nice fluffy hcs/drabbles in my opinion! :D

Crystal rain pours from the sky, dripping it's gems upon anything it could touch and drenching it. It's steady flow produces a serene melody, one that never gets old no matter how many times it's replayed.

As nice as this may be to some, the diver wishes it would stop. If the fairytales hold any weight to them it means somewhere out there, amidst this clear, crystal rain, the hydro dragon weeps, most likely submerged in or surrounded by water, alone and upset. It makes him tempted to chant, to plead with the dragon not to cry and to allow the rain to pass. However, deeming his situation, that wouldn't be appropriate..

"Ah! My most devoted follower! Do tell me, what brings you here at such an hour? I know you yearned to feel the greatness and power that my presence exudes, but you do know that even the most divine must rest, yes?"

Piercing mismatched ocean gaze dressed in gaudy, expensive fabrics and topped off with a matching hat, Y/n de Fontaine sits before Freminét. Their aura of godliness surrounding them like a king's cloak along with a crown of intimidation to go with it that makes them untouchable and unapproachable to some people in the water nation.

However, despite their loud words and even louder demeanor, they sit back and wait. Silently and patiently waiting for him to speak his mind about whatever reason he has to visit them so late at night, hoping and praying that it's something small and not some unexpected disaster.

After all, playing this role has posed to be a problem when it comes to comforting others. Having to constantly talk about being above everyone else.. Most people would take your genuine attempts as you pitying them..

"..I'm sorry for bothering you. I know you're probably tired.." He begins, snapping you away from your thoughts immediately, "I just wanted to check on you."

"Hm?"

"I.. I wanted to make sure you were alright," He clarifies. His voice, although a bit shaky, a little louder and more clear to hear than before.

"Lyney mentioned that you seemed upset about something earlier. I was planning on visiting then, but I didn't want him getting suspicious.. Uhm, a- anyways, are you alright? If there's something bothering you, Y/n, you can tell me. I..don't have the strength or power to promise you that I'll do something about whatever upsets you but I can, at the very least, listen to you talk about what's troubling you.."

Now that's not what you were expecting. Or rather, something you didn't want to expect. It was a small, quick slip from character, that's all. Everyone else in the Opera House brushed it off, why couldn't that magician do the same? Now your boyfriend sits here, concerned and asking questions you can't answer truthfully.

"Hehehehe~! Well aren't you the most adorable little devotee! For you to think that something could bother me, the Hydro Archon and ruler of Fontaine, is both cute and foolishly naïve of you!" You boast before another fit of giggles take over, "Worry not, for I am just fine! Nothing in this world could possibly bother me! Not a human nor a god from another nation.. Hah! Not even Celestia!"

"I understand your concern for me. After all, I'm constantly juggling tasks no ordinary human like yourself could ever imagine dealing with. It must be challenging for me, right? Well you're dead wrong! I am the embodiment of the all powerful! Nothing is hard for me! Hahaha~!"

"..Is that really true?" Freminét asks.

"You dare doubt me?" Y/n retorts, crossing their arms and holding them against their chest.

"No," He answers immediately only to pause, eventually following up with a small, "Well, maybe a little.. But if you're really fine, I'll believe you. Have a good night, Y/n."

And with that he gets up, but to his surprise, the archon before him, the same one who just told him that literally nothing in this world could trouble them, seemed rather distressed. Even going as far as to stand up from their comfortable seat to call out to him.

"Wait, where are you going?" You force out quickly. Freminét halts and looks back. A look of genuine confusion etched on his freckled face.

"I'm going back to the House of the Hearth. I had to sneak out in order to avoid anyone catching me.. I should head back before they find out I'm not in bed. I wouldn't want them to get worried and waste their time looking for me.."

"No!" You shriek. Freminét jumps. You notice and quickly clear your throat, "I- I mean, no..~" You drawl, "You can't, I uh.. I haven't.. Our time here isn't up yet! Yeah.. You can't leave because you haven't spent your full time here yet!"

"What do you mean?"

"W- Well you came here to talk to me and might I remind you that I am a god! When you converse with me, it's tradition to stay for at least a full hour before leaving so that I may properly bless you with good faith and fortune and all of that.."

A stretch, but not entirely false. For centuries, religious families from all over the nation have scheduled meetings just to worship you and hear your words of good faith for them and their families, most of which staying for hours on end until they're forced to leave by the Gardes so technically you aren't lying to him. Twisting the truth, maybe. But definitely not lying!

An expression of skepticism crosses the driver's face for a long moment as he mulls over your words in silence. A couple seconds pass, each one making you more and more nervous. After all, there's no official rule or anything that states that he has to stay here so if he really wanted to, he could leave and you'd let him.

Despite what you may say, you can't exactly force him. Anyone else? Sure, you'd have no problem making them do as you please. But Freminét? No, no, no. You see, he's what one would call special. He has leverage over you. Leverage that no one else has. And that leverage is being your beloved partner in secret. If he were to tell or make any indication that he's uncomfortable or upset, you'd do just about anything you could to make him feel better which of course includes letting him leave this Opera House if that's what he'd truly want.

"..Hm, I guess I have no choice but to stay here until time is up.. I've been here for some time so I probably don't have much time left here anyway."

"On the contrary! It's been not but a few minutes since you've sat down so you have a lot more time here than you think." You say.

"But I've been here for almost a half an hour.."

"Archons see time differently than humans, my dear," You explain, "While as time may seem faster to you, it's much different for me. So by my calculations, you still have at least fifty minutes left with me before you can go. Leaving any sooner will count as great disrespect!"

Did that come off too strong? Were you too loud? Ooh.. You hope Freminet didn't feel too pressured by what you said. You just want—no, you need him to stay a little longer. You need to relish in the comfort that his presence brings you just a little longer.

..You want to be selfish just a little longer..please..

Freminet's lips part to speak only to immediately shut. Avoiding eye contact, he walks back over to the couch across from yours and sits down, his eyes remaining glued to the floor. Holding back a sigh, you plop back down on the cushion, staring down at your gloved hands which are clasped together in your lap.

Now you've done it. You should've just stayed quiet and let him leave! Now he's uncomfortable and you two are sitting in this awkward silence that's absolutely killing you!

How can you fix this? Should you resort to flattery? Agh, no. Freminet wouldn't like that. Should you just carry on conversation? What would you talk about.. The sea, maybe?

"Tell me, how has your little companion been faring? I noticed that you didn't bring him with you," You inquire, not ready to look up and see his face just yet and deciding to keep your gaze fixed on your hands.

Freminét looks up, a little surprised. You were interested in Pers? And here he thought you were silently judging him for carrying him around all of the time..

"He's doing fine. I left him back at the House of the Hearth to keep Thelxie company. Although..I was reluctant in doing so.."

"Thelxie? Are you referring to the Water Imp in that children's fairytale? How and why would Pers be keeping him company?"

"It's a little complicated.. I've accepted a commission to make a toy and per my commissioner's request, I've named the toy Thelxie," He explains.

"Hm, I'll admit that you've peaked my interest," You gain the courage to look back up at Freminét. Deciding not to comment on the way he immediately looks away from you upon locking eyes with you, "You've mentioned before that you don't take commissions and prefer to work at your own pace without feeling pressured. What about this commission is so different from the rest? Well, besides the fact that you're basing the toy off a children-eating water imp from a children's tale."

It takes a moment for Freminét to respond and when he finally does, he speaks in a lower tone, "I.. hm.."

"What is it?" You ask, "I know me being interested in things other than an excellent performance is hard to come by and I've been told of the pressure one feels with faced against my expectations, but you should at least try to answer my questions."

"I'm sorry," Freminét mumbles quickly, beginning to fiddle with the skin of his fingers, "But.. For the sake of her privacy, I can't really go into any further detail about this.."

And the silence returns and oh, how you've come to absolutely despise it since your relationship with the diver began. You want to say something. You even fix your lips, waiting for the words to come to you, but they don't. Leaving you looking rather dumbstruck as a result.

What is wrong with you? He's just a person. Someone without any kind of intimidating aura or power to him so why are you hesitating? Since you can't talk about the commission, change the subject. Simple and easy, right?

Don't be so scared. It's just Freminét. Yes, no reason to be nervous. It's just Freminét. It's just Freminét—

"Can you..hold me?" Wait, what are you saying? That wasn't apart of the script! What are you doing? "Please.. It doesn't have to be for too long and you may leave immediately afterwards if you'd like..I just.. I really would like it if..uhm.."

Face warmed, avoiding eye contact, the light sweating.. What? Have you really reduced yourself to some shy background character who's only purpose in the film is to stammer out stupid sentences occasionally? That's no fit for someone who's been acting for as long as you have. You need to fix this. You need to save this performance!

But what do you say? Nothing's coming to mind. All you have to say is a few simple words with your usual confident tone and then divert the conversation to something else until you can recover completely. That's it. That all you have to do so why are freezing up? Don't tell me you suddenly have stage fright or something. That would be unacceptable.

You've been silent for too long. Any longer and you won't be able to salvage this no matter what you say! So, speak. Say something! Anything—!

Cool hands finally snap you from your thoughts. One snakes around your waist and the other rest on the side of your head. You fall to the side and your stiff body collides with smooth clothing before you can react.

"Is this.. Are you..okay with this position?" His voice comes out as a small whisper, just a bit quieter than normal, "My mother.. She could always tell when I was upset. She would hold me just like this and sing in my ears until I felt better.. I- I'm not a good singer like she was, but I can tell you about some of the clockworks I've been working on lately. I'd probably bore you though.."

This definitely wasn't apart of the script. What should you do? Pull away? Chastise him for touching you so freely? You really don't want to do that. His cool embrace, the smell of the ocean on his clothing that for some reason makes you feel the opposite of the uneasy feeling you'd usually get from smelling seawater.. This feels so nice..safe almost.. Can't you just add this in or something? Surely it wouldn't be too out of character for you to indulge in this, right? Right?

At the dejecting sound of your silence, Freminét's already loose grip loosens even more to the point you barely feel his hands on you, "I'm sorry.. I've never done this so I.." He trails off as he watches you pull his arm so that it wraps around you again. The previous statement he was planning to finish having long been forgotten as he seems more focused on you and how embarrassingly warm his face has gotten than whatever he was planning to say.

You arms hesitantly cage his waist, keeping his body flush against you as you begin mumbling something incoherent under your breath. You bury your face—which is beginning to become unbearably warm itself—into his shoulder and with your mouth closer to his ear, he was finally able to hear you..

"Even archons need to be pampered occasionally, divinity or not. You should be honored to share such close proximity with me and bask in the elegance that is me so, uhm..please stay for as long as you're able.."

With a brief wave of confidence that washes over him, Freminét brings his other hand back up to your head, this time slowly running his fingers through your hair, "Oh..alright," He mumbles against your hair after a while.

Another silence comes creeping in yet it no longer carries that thick, unpleasant air of awkwardness with it. Instead, it's light, almost soothing, just like his touch. It was as if the lights behind the closed curtains had dimmed a little and although it didn't stop your performance, it made it a little more bearable.

He makes things just a little more bearable for you, even though he isn't aware of it.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[sugarcloudsky]

Hi! Welcome to the cookie run x reader community! Here you'll find so many amazing fics, writers, and anons like myself! I am personally a big fan of cookie run x reader stuff and I saw you and thought I'd give you a request and see what your writing is like!

I noticed how you prefer writing for male characters and lucky for you...my top two favs are males lol! (Clotted cream and affogato!)

So I was thinking....may I request am affogato x a shy, sweet reader? Like the reader is an absolute bean?

Again, welcome and I hope you like the people and anon and other writers here!

「The Sweetest Medicine」

character: affogato cookie

wc: 1.1k

cws: none

first request done, i really hope you like it!! thank you for the kind welcome, i appreciate it >_< this rlly came out longer than i expected,,

Early morning hours were always a thing Affogato Cookie quite disliked. The bleary gray sky served to always dampen his mood, and he sometimes found himself longing for the day the Dark Cacao kingdom may just one day see a sunny morning. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired to deal with that miserable excuse of a king today. For once, he just wanted to lay in bed all day. Oh, to be able to have an entire day to himself, being able to sit alone and eat all the sweet confectioneries he could ever want—

A knock at his door interrupted his fantasies.

“…Sir Affogato Cookie? Are you awake?”

Normally, he wouldn’t have sprung up from his soft mattress so quickly, but perhaps this case was a bit special. He quickly straightened his hair before replying in the same sugary voice the cookies of the kingdom was so used to hearing, “I’ll be right out.”

After a few moments of changing out of his sleep attire and fixing himself up, he slides open the door to his chambers. There, he meets you waiting for him. He carefully scans your figure, taking in your nervous body language. He watches as you entirely avoid eye contact with him, as well as noting that you are obviously hiding something behind your back with your two hands.

“My, my, quite the lovely sight, even in these early morning hours. What brings you to my chambers so early, hm?”

His compliment caught you entirely off guard, causing your face to burn and the speech you had planned in your head to completely dissipate. You try to speak, but the words are caught in your throat. The only thing that comes out is a quite frankly pathetic mess of words.

“I— You— F— Ah,” You stumble over your words, and your face burns even brighter when you hear him chuckle. Panic quickly enters you, is he already laughing at you?! Oh crumbs, this really was a bad idea. You pull one of your arms out from behind you, subconsciously try to hide your face in your hand in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Sorry, I—”

“Why don’t you come in, hm?”

“Huh?!”

You bite your lip in embarrassment at your loud exclamation. Other cookies who were roaming the halls of the citadel all turned to you, and at that moment you might as well have just melted into a puddle. Affogato chuckled again as he gently peels your hand away from your face. His hands cup your own as he softly pulls you into his bedchamber. You aren’t able to get a word in before you're standing in the middle of his room.

“What is it you wanted to tell me? You don’t have to worry about anyone else being around.”

You do not reply. You are frozen in place, unmoving. This isn't how you planned for this to go. All you wanted to do was give him what you made for him, and leave. That’s it. You didn’t expect to be standing in the middle of his bedroom alone with him. This is the worst possible outcome, you thought. How did it turn out this way?

He observes you closely, almost being able to hear the gears turning inside your head. He quietly sits on the edge of his bed, his eyes not leaving your stiff form. He clears his throat as a means to get your attention, and you jolt. Affogato pats the space on his bed beside him, beckoning you to sit next to him, and you hesitate.

“S—Sir, I really don’t think this is appropriate. I shouldn’t be in here so casually with you…” you fluster.

“Why so worried, hm? It’s just us in here. You can sit next to me as much as you like.” He deflects, still patting the space next to him.

Attempting to swallow your nervousness, you sit. Immediately, you’re hit with the mixed scent of coffee and ice cream. The bitterness of the coffee with the sweetness of the ice cream left your head spinning and cheeks burning once again. Oh crumbs, he smells really nice— no! That’s creepy! Just give him what you wanted to give him and go!

After what felt like forever, you pulled out what you had hiding behind your back onto your lap. It was a neatly wrapped box with a cute little ribbon on top. Affogato’s curiosity peaks as he asks you what’s in the box.

“It’s— um, I made you.. I made you a cake… because I heard you talking about how you… you liked sweets…” Your voice grew softer as your sentence continued, your figure shrinking on the spot.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then, he laughs.

“My, my,” he says, attempting to suppress his giddiness, “For me? How charming. You’ve come to me this early in the morning just to give me this?”

You nod. You’re so flustered and embarrassed at this point, you thought you were going to explode at any moment now. He gingerly takes the box from your grasp, untying the ribbon and opening the lid. Inside was a small chocolate colored cake with light fluffy icing, along with a cute little spoon. His eyes widened at the sight. The aroma was divine and the cake looked delicious.

He smiles as he turns to gaze at you, eyes holding pure adoration for you. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers nervously, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you.

“Thank you.” he sighs. His tone is so different from what you’re used to hearing. It was so genuine and kind in comparison to the faux sweetness he held with any other cookie in the kingdom. “I appreciate it, truly.”

“It’s— It’s nothing!” you nervously laugh, still refusing to face him. Despite your embarrassment, you’re glad he likes your gift. Sure, a cake so early in the morning might be a bit odd to some, but he likes it, so that’s all you really care about. You spent almost the entire night in the kitchens of the citadel, perfecting your recipe to make sure it was well suited for Affogato Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie’s right hand.

“Such a thoughtful gift from a lovely cookie deserves a reward, does it not?” he hums in an unrecognizable tone, causing you to look up at him quizzically.

Your sputter, eyes widening.

He smiles angelically, motioning a spoonful of the cake towards you. If it was even possible, your face darkened even more. But you could’ve sworn his own cheeks held a light red tint as well.

“Say ‘ah’.”

[desultory-novice]

Question for funsies:

If you had to pick "top 10 Kirby characters that deserve a hug", which 10 would you pick?

I feel the point of a Top 10 list is to MAKE you narrow down your choices and that changing the rules is a cheat but I quickly found while writing I had divided this list into "deserves" a hug and "NEEDS" a hug. So you get two lists. Plus a bonus 3rd one.

None are in any particular order.

[Top 10 Kirby Characters Who Deserve A Hug]

Bandanna Waddle Dee Bandanna Waddle Dee always works so hard: studying, training, doing his best to both keep up with Dream Land's more bombastic residents and be representative of the Waddle Dees at the same time! That's a lot and yet, somehow Waddle Dee manages it!

Sillydillo Okay, well, not so much a hug but a pat on the head? The artistic armadillo needs acknowledgement either way. No one understands you, Sillydillo, and it's hard to say if you understand anyone/anything yourself, but I've never seen someone so enthusiastic about Doing Their Best! Shine on, you crazy diamond! Keep dancing to the beat only you can hear! You're perfect just as is!

Prince Fluff You did it! You got the magic yarn! This little prince has never been anything but flawless. Always generous and understanding with Kirby, even when Kirby has no idea how things work in yarn world. Plus like, he or an ancestor may have some kind of wild planet-saving backstory according to those cave paintings, so yes, Prince Fluff definitely deserves a hug for all that!

Adeleine It doesn't really matter if Adeleine has a traumatic backstory related to the destruction of Earth or not. The simple fact is, she canonically has ONE hit point and yet she's always ready to use it coming to the aid of her friends. Do you ever think she gets tired of painting food and refrigerators? Does she complain? No! She's just that sweet.

Gooey Gooey, you may not know what you have done to deserve a hug but you deserve a hug nonetheless. You're a wonderful gooey little miracle. You taught us that even the epitome of darkness and negativity is not incapable of becoming a friend. Good Gooey!

Rick I often consider Rick to be the leader/papa of the Animal Friends, and for staying devotedly by Kirby's side, helping him out whenever there is need (and as a married man, too!) Rick absolutely deserves a hug. He's been nothing but good and wholesome for over 25 years! (Ignore the gag manga.) I've said this before and I will say this again but Meta Knight as Kirby's dad? King Dedede as Kirby's dad? ...If that's your preference, but for me, it will always be hamster dad.

Susie I know people are going to argue forever about that Star Allies blurb and whether it's translated correctly or not or whether an alternate translation absolves her of her sins etc but sometimes, to deserve a hug, you just need to have survived a really goddawful time. And that's what earns Susie a place on my "C'mere!" list. She probably deserves a blanket and a warm cup of cocoa too.

King Dedede Not to be outdone by his own Waddle Dees, King Dedede has been working hard almost from the very beginning. Sure, he falls off the wagon sometimes, but when the chips are down, he's always trying to find some way (flawed or not) to make things right. Lazing around?! Never! He's recovering from his heroic sacrifice! Come on and get a hug, big guy! I hope it helps you feel like a hero!

Magolor ...He's going to say he doesn't and even after you deliver the hug, he'll probably playfully question your sanity and try to move the conversation on to getting you and all your friends a Merry Magoland season pass, but inside? He's wibbling like a small animal you rescued from the rain. He knows what he did, the good and the bad, and SOMETHING in him hopes... he really might just deserve this.

Kirby How could Kirby not deserve a hug?! Of course I'd hug Kirby!!

----

[Top 10 Kirby Characters Who NEED A Hug]

Taranza I don't like to woobify Taranza as much as others do. If you dig right down into it, he was basically Queen Sectonia's assassin, irregardless of his turning on her. The reason why Susie is on the "deserves" list and Taranza is on the "needs" list is honestly due to a bunch of what I see as subtle differences with the ways they're processing their own trauma and their responses after the fact.

Pres. Haltmann ...Not because he has particularly done anything to deserve it in recent memory ("memory" being the key word, hint hint) but because little Susie's disappearance was clearly the last time he ever got one. And that's a long time to go without a hug. I think I've mentioned this before, but you can sort of see in the way he laughs during his fight that he was probably a REALLY loving dad. I can't help but feel sorry for everything that happened to him. ...But also, if you're into petty vengeance, you could also do your best to crumple his fancy pressed suit while you're giving him that hug! ^_-

Dark Matter Poor Dark Matter has no friends and no idea how to even ask for them. Dark Matter invaded a whole planet because they were jealous that they couldn't have the fun everyone down on the surface was. (Zero probably forced them to do it also but...) And the result of this invasion was to be destroyed without ever experiencing joy or friendship. Depending on how you read DL3, their story only got worse from their! Dark Matter CLEARLY needs a hug!

Elfilin Quite possibly Elfy deserves a hug as well, but more than anything, he NEEDs a hug. Did you see how traumatized the poor dear was by the end of final fight? It's going to be okay, Elfy... The bonus of hugging Elfilin is that, post-game, you're sort of giving Elfilis a hug too only a) Eliflis won't try to kill you or melt your brain while you do it and b) it might actually have meaning for them now and even contribution to the act of untangling centuries(?) of abuse.

Queen of the Fairies She may be clumsy and scatterbrained but you know what? I think she did the best she possibly could. Even panicking, she sent the right fairy for the job! Given that she was soon after possessed by Zero 2 (...i-in her butt? Y-you know what, let's not go there...) she could probably, no, DEFINITELY use a hug after that.

Whispy Woods Has anyone ever asked what Whispy Woods wants?! No! In the RtDL Novel, Whispy didn't even attack because people were NICE to him! Instead of jumping into battle whenever the old arbor wakes up, maybe you ought to try singing it a lullaby? Put a soft blanket around its roots? Water it with a glass of warm milk?! Poor tree gets no love...

Shadow Kirby Shadow Kirby's record of good deeds versus causing trouble is kinda in the gray zone right now (haha, get it...?) so I can't say in good faith that they necessarily deserve a hug, but it's pretty clear the Mirror Dimension is a messy place. Who knows how much things have improved since they took over as hero(?!) I still think that they ought to have a hug just because of the whole Amazing Mirror fiasco.

Marx In storybook canon, Kirby hugging Marx surprised Marx so bad he fell off his ball!! That shows me that Marx has clearly not been hugged enough, and though the mischievous jester has done nothing to deserve it (Nothing! Not EVEN once!) I can't help but think Kirby's got the right idea here! Show the clown some love. If nothing else, it is effective in stopping his pranks for a time!

Zan Partizanne Franny and Berge seem to have always had each other to confide in, but Zan seems like the type to keep her feelings to herself. Even if Hyness WAS in a place to listen (he most definitely wasn't) she would probably consider it sacrilege to burden him with HER concerns! She's better now, as canon has informed us, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need a little something for all the years she had to bear up with the guilt and doubt and fear of her Jamba fellows...

Void Yes! Hug Void! Fill Void with positivity! Help teach Void love and hugs and naps and food and friendship! Bonus: it will save the planet!

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Characters I Would Definitely Not Hug

Zero ...I just don't think it's gonna work out, folks? Also...gooshy...

Fecto Forgo ...Haha...that's a "group hug" you don't walk away from...

Galacta ...Possibly deserves it but I am 100% sure they would give me the "Star Dream" treatment before I got close enough to try.

Morpho ...Kumazaki vaguely implied during that Nintendo Dream interview touching Morpho means losing your soul so, uh, pass!

Kracko ...Cause of Death: electrocution. (Also, Kracko is a JERK!)

Mistleteinn (Master Crown) ...It's a hug that'll last you ~forever~

[aesolerin]

Did you ever hear about that digital presentation/lecture one of the Red Hook fellas gave on how they put together the game visually and inspirationally? (Fun Fact: Jester turned out the way he did because Bourassa hates the DnD Bard stereotype, lol) I'm mentioning this in particular because he went over Leper as an example in terms of symbolism incorporated into his design

(which, side tangent to that: Leper's blocky and metallic aesthetic was inspired by Iron Man! the more you know, lol)

This was put out onto YouTube before Red Hook made it fully clear DD2 was gonna be a thing, which made it all the more notable when people later realized that one of the pictures used on that slide was of Leper's DD2 character design. So, everything he was talking about here was likely with Leper's canon DD2 backstory in mind. This is important because:

One of the points Bourassa mentioned was the fact that Leper has a "broken sword for a broken man".

That by itself is already brutally sad, but rest assured! It gets worse if you think about it long enough. After all, do you remember when that happened in his backstory? If not, lemme stop being coy for a moment to help you in drawing some conclusions:

The Leper's sword broke in killing off his advisors.

It wasn't the diagnosis that got to him. Neither was it leaving his kingdom behind. It was in breaking the oath he made to himself that he would protect everyone in his kingdom. Because, treacherous or not, his advisors were still part of his kingdom. It was only a small handful of people, sure. And yes, it's true that they couldn't be trusted to take actions in good faith once he was gone. And it likely was the right thing to do, at the end of the day.

But justifications don't erase the stark truth that he murdered his own subjects in cold blood.

And THAT shattered him (and his sword) more than a simple diagnosis or self-exile ever could.

Because, the thing is: someone can believe that their actions were objectively the best possible option and justifiable, while considering those same actions subjectively horrifying and unforgivable. After all, murder is still murder no matter the motivation, and some folks deeply take that to heart.

~~~~~~

Of course, this is only true if I remembered that presentation correctly, as I haven't tried to look it up to verify it, lol. You got any thoughts on it, yourself? Assuming you hadn't already realized that on some level, of course - for all I know, you could have drawn this conclusion a long time ago and never brought it up because you thought it was obvious! xD

Or, on the other side of it, there's no reason you should feel the need to change how you characterize our fave Leper buddy, y'know? Though, imo, it's not particularly contradictory to how we normally characterize him. This is just another angle you could look at him from if you wanted to in your writing, shippy or otherwise!

(Though speaking of shipping: this creates another interesting level to think about Leper's dynamic with Jester, no?)

(Maybe Jester needs to get his king to forgive himself by comparing their past actions. If Baldwin finds nothing wrong with what Sarmenti did, which was spurred on by a much more selfish - if entirely sympathetic - motivation, why should Baldwin go about putting his own actions on a pedestal of guilt? Unless he's implying that he's supposed to be morally better than Jester, which I'm p sure both of them would hate to draw as a conclusion.)

(Or maybe Leper sees it as another way they can understand each other that others may not grasp. That while they may be stained by their past actions, it doesn't make the two of them inherently unlovable or deserving of suffering. It's a burden they can help each other bear due to their own personal experience with it.)

(Or maybe Jester is tired of all this masturbatory self-flagellating fuckery and would much rather he and Leper get down to something a bit more literal in its sexual nature. Wouldn't put it past the Silly fella)

thank you much for providing that link to the video! which i will in turn provide in full, because it is a very fun and thought-provoking talk overall, not just the Leper stuff!!

(and, as someone who's played lots of bards, ☹ [but i will point out i've never played one of those horny bards at least])

i do very much agree that retaliating and killing his traitorous advisors was a huge turning point for Leper, and a source of at least some degree of internal conflict for him.

was it a moment of freedom and liberation, finally justified in doing something about those poison-tongued sycophants?

was it a moment of horror and regret, killing treasonous-but-still-subjects of his?

was it a moment of resignation and cold calculation, defending himself against attackers seeking to kill him?

was it a moment of inevitability and hollowness, knowing something of this magnitude was bound to happen after his diagnosis?

some bits of all four? fluctuating day-by-day, nightmare-by-nightmare?

as Bourassa said, a broken sword for a broken man. no matter the literal golden facade he puts up, Leper is still a broken man looking for something as he battles the horrors of the Hamlet/the world. at least this is an unexpected connection he shares with Jester, right?

i will admit it's not something i've commented much on in my fics, as Jester's trauma is just so much more, but i certainly have thoughts!

way back in my first DD fic, Dreams, Jester notes that royal blood on their hands is something they share, and Leper smiles as he says “Hence the beauty I see in your bloody finale. Such cruelty and abuse should be responded to in kind."

in Bow, something about the assassination attempt seems to have severely fucked up the Veiled Emperor's sense of trust.

believe me friend, when it is finally revealed, i am going to have so much fun 😊

these are some wonderful(ly painful) thoughts you've shared, and again thank you for putting this talk on my radar!!

[normalsnails]

All about hidehisa (backstory and third high rise world plot)

A hugeass post all about her ig - also, most of the things im describing are meant to be slightly exaggerated but real, she is not over the top lol

1. Backstory / Pre-THRW

So, family life.

Her family is the typical family youd expect to raise bullies :

•Inattentive to what their children are doing to others and themselves (heavy implications if this was ever written that hidehisa smokes, and does other things because of the terrible influence from her similar peers, her brother and her parents) <- note : mainly her peers are to blame (school)

•Lack of care for their children (physical and emotional)

•Speaks to their children like pure shit (entirely based off of my past bullies parents lmao, all of them speak to their kids like shit istg)

Obviously, juo (her brother) decided to become “evil”, not necessarily raised into it, but it surely didnt help him that their parents dont care and were in fact as bad as him. (If not worse)

Their parents wanted a girl when their mother was pregnant with Juo, so they decided on Emiri because they “knew” it was going to be a girl. They were pissed when Emiri turned out to be a boy so he was called that anyway. The same happened to Hidehisa, they wanted a boy so they could have two sons so they decided on Hidehisa, but then she was born a girl and they were more pissed. (Weirdass parents 😭 part of me still wants to write them as cool but like, theyre not the best parents clearly)

I originally wanted her to be one of 4 (siblings) but i decided that it should be just her and juo tbh

Obviously, this is just what i think is fitting! If you have any ideas for their home life and family life then feel free to share! This is just my opinion ofc :)

2. School life

Obviously, the basics of her character: gets into fights alot.

Like wayy too much lolol (she literally has to have bandages on her hands 24/7 because theyre so bruised)

This makes her ehh popular-ish because people dont wanna really mess with her and, to highschoolers, fights = peak entertainment. And she provides tons 😭. But also the fact that her brother is probably well known around the area (not in a gang way, i think of juo as more of a solo criminal) and he’s terrifying lmaoo i would not wanna meet him in real life holy shit

Because of this, she does not go to school often (gets suspended and/or kicked out) because unlike her brother (who was stealthy in being a huge piece of shit) she doesn’t hide it (nor is she a bully like he was, as i said in another post, she’s more of a bitch to everyone and anyone) like he did. Mainly because she doesn’t target people and bully them until suicide (no hate to Juo ily king).

i like to compare her pre-THRW character to this song lolol!

ANYWAY, I HOPE THIS IS CONSISTENT LOL

THRW plot I dont know what else to say tbh im too tired to think

She kills people in thrw because shes a suzuki why wouldn’t she 😭

She may or may not have gotten the title “seraph” (ironic i know)

Her, myra and Takeshi eventually found out about eachother and went to “war”

Then they became besties idk

Kinda

I think

Send me an ask if you want any specifics because i cant think rn!!

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Forty-Six

A/N: I originally planned to end this with Thorin and Jasna’s wedding, but since there is still some story left to tell… I hope no one minds if I continue it a little longer…

Fandom: The Hobbit - Post BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

Summary: Thorin and Jasna arrive in Mirkwood in the middle of the night…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Thranduíl, Dwalin

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,256

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

The coach bounced about along the rutted road and not for the first time, Jasna found herself wondering how badly her spine might be rearranged as a result. She looked over at Thorin, marveling over how he could sleep so soundly when they were tossed about seemingly from one side of the coach to the other. No matter how she tried, she simply could not get comfortable. And when she did manage to fall asleep? The coach hit a rut or ran over a branch and the would rock hard enough to slam her into the side and wake her up. 

All the while Thorin snored on.

She scowled at him. Nothing kept him from sleeping. Nothing. And it seemed nothing could help her sleep. How unfair.

They headed south toward Mirkwood, taking the same journey he’d undergone with the Company, only in reverse. Part of her looked so forward to seeing Mirkwood, but part of her was terrified at the very thought. The spiders he’d spoken of weighed heavily on her mind. He promised she would’t come into contact with them, but could he really make such a promise? 

The coach rocked wide to the left and Jasna had to throw up her hand to brace herself and keep from slamming into the side yet again. But, just as she’d righted herself, they swung the opposite way and the momentum threw her into Thorin, who bolted up with a growled, “Who goes?”

“Me, Thorin,” she grumbled as she found herself almost buried face-first in the thick fur of his cloak. “I go and I am tired of going. How much further do we have?”

He plucked her from his chest to seat her beside him once more and with one hand, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Where are we?”

“I have’t a clue,” she told him, turning to peer through the window at the growing dusk. “I’ve never been beyond Esgaroth, remember?”

Lowering his hand, he offered up a sheepish smile. “My apologies..” 

He leaned toward the window on his side and peered out. “We aren’t far from Mirkwood, if memory serves. But,” he looked over at her, “you have to remember, I did this part of the trek in a barrel on the Forest River, and aside from some ugly orcs, saw little of anything.”

She smiled then. “I’d forgotten about that. Mr. Baggins mentioned it at our reception, didn't he?”

“I cannot say, mesmel, for I was not there when he did. But, considering it was his idea and it saved our hides…”

With a sigh, she settled against him, smiling as he draped his arm about her shoulders and pressed a kiss into the top of her head. Despite the discomfort of traveling by coach, it was cozy there with him, and without thinking, she eased her arm about his hips and slipped her hand beneath his tunic to sweep against his belly. He sighed softly, tightening his arm about her, and whispered, “Maralmizi.”

Tucking her head against him, she murmured back, “Maralmizu.”

She didn't mean to doze off, but the next thing she knew, Thorin’s voice was soft in her ear as he said, “Wake up, mesmel. We have arrived.”

“What?” She sat up, yawning as she did so. She leaned across him to peer out the window, but it was far too dark to see much. And what she did see made her heart sink to a certain degree. Trees. Vines. Leaves. That was it. Somehow, she thought there’d be… more.

The coachman hopped down and opened their door. “Your Majesties, we have arrived.”

Thorin stepped out of the coach, and turned to hold out his hand. “Take care, mesmel. I’d hate to see you turn an ankle here.”

Leaves crunched beneath her boots as she alit from the cabin. A chilly breeze rustled through the canopy of leaves and branches, a hint of staleness in its arms as it wound around them as well to send more leaves scuttling into the darkness. Jasna pulled her cloak tighter as she glanced about. Yellow orbs glowed at her from the treetops—owls, she thought. A husky hoo! confirmed her suspicions. 

“It’s about time we’re here,” Dwalin grumbled as he alit from the coach behind theirs. Jasna smiled at the grouch in Dwalin’s voice. She felt that grouch herself. 

“Hush,” Thorin told him. “We are not here to cause any incidents. I’d rather not find my way back into the dungeon here, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’m not the one who got us tossed in there,” Dwalin retorted, shaking his head. “Seems to me, ye were the one insulting the prissy wee elf lord.”

Jasna pressed her lips together to hold back both her smile and her chuckle, then looked from Dwalin to Thorin. “What did you say to him?”

Thorin cleared his throat, a hint of color rising above the line of his beard. “It is of no matter now,” he replied, shooting Dwalin a look. “We are still not here to cause trouble.”

“Aye, I’ll make sure I smile and thank them for their hospitality in not locking us in cells this time.”

“Dwalin—” Thorin began. 

“Who goes?”

The voice emerged from the darkness, but neither Thorin, Dwalin, nor the coachman jumped. In fact, the coachman sounded almost arrogant as he said, “I bring with me the King and Queen of Erebor to see His Majesty Thranduíl.”

“It is the middle of the night, you fool!”

“We were waylaid by weather,” Thorin said, his low voice never rising beyond conversation level even as it carried through the woods as if he shouted. “And since I’d rather not remain out here, at the mercy of Mahal only knows what, you will allow us entry at the least.”

“I beg your—”

“Let them in.” 

The voice was somewhat familiar to Jasna, and Thorin’s hand came to rest at the small of her back as he said, “Ah, Thranduíl. A voice of reason.”

“That’s not something I thought I’d ever hear,” Dwalin muttered behind them.

“Hush,” Thorin hissed.

“The hour is late, Thorin,” Thranduíl replied evenly. “And I should like to get back to sleep, if you don't mind.”

Jasna pressed her lips together as the heavy oaken doors before them slowly swung open. She had no idea where Thranduíl was, she couldn't see him, but perhaps Thorin could, for he chuckled as he looked off to his right. “Ah, as gracious a host as always,” he replied dryly, urging her to follow the coachman into the darkness beyond the gates.

“Am I required to be gracious to travelers who arrive without warning and in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“I beg to differ.”

Jasna bit the inside of her mouth to hold back her smile as her eyes adjusted and she saw Thranduíl before them, a torch of oak and leaves in one hand. He wore a long, gold and brown silk robe, his normally sleek, white-blonde hair poking up at odd angles and his eyes heavy-lidded with dark shadows beneath them. A hint of guilt twinged her insides. “I’d like to apologize,” she told him glancing first up at Thorin, then at Mirkwood’s king, “for our late arrival. We hit terrible weather halfway here, and the coaches became stuck in the mud on a less than perfect road.”

Thranduíl smothered a yawn with one hand. “It is of no matter now. Come and I will have Rychell show you to your chambers. Unless,” he peered at Thorin over one shoulder, “you are both hungry.”

Jasna’s stomach growled, but she shook her head. “I think bed sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Good. Rychell?”

The elf seemed to appear from the shadows, his long, reddish hair sleek and smooth. “Yes, my lord?”

“Please show the king and queen to their chambers. And then show Mr. Fundinson to his. And make certain places are set for them for the morning.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rychell looked over at them. “If you will follow me.”

“I bid you all good evening,” Thranduíl said with a slight bob of his head. “And I will see you in the morning.”

Thorin nodded in return. “Thank you, of course.”

“Thank you.” Dwalin managed to sound almost friendly.

“It is my pleasure. Rychell, make certain they have anything and everything they need.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Thorin, Jasna, do not hesitate if there is something you wish. Rychell would be happy to help. And the same goes for you, Mr. Fundison.”

Dwalin bobbed his head slightly. “I thank ye.”

“Of course.” Thorin’s fingertips pressed harder into her back. “I think for now we wish only to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Very well. I will see you come the morning.”

“That you will.”

With that, she, Thorin, and Dwalin fell into step behind Rychell, who led them down an open-air corridor away from the front gates. The air was damp, heavy with the smells of earth and rainwater. Vines made up the palace walls, tree trunks here and there in the place of columns and supports. Overhead, the roof was no more than a tightly woven basket of branches and vines, the scent of wet leaves lingering on the chilled night breeze. The hoots of the owls had grown softer, as had the flutter of wings and the scratch of talons on bark. Meanwhile, the songs of other nocturnal creatures grew louder, more rhythmic as Rychell paused beside a door that appeared to be carved from the side of a massive maple tree.

“Is there anything I might fetch for you, Your Majesties?”

Thorin shook his head. “Thank you, but I think my wife and I would just prefer to go to sleep.”

Rychell bobbed his head. “Of course, Your Majesty. Sleep well. Mr. Fundinson, if you will come with me.”

Dwalin bobbed his head again. “Aye, of course. Good night, Thorin, Miss Jasna.”

“Good night,” Jasna told him with a hint of a smile. “Sleep well.”

“I’ll do my best. Thorin, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course.”

And with that, Rychell led Dwalin down the corridor and around a bend and they vanished from sight. Thorin gave her a gentle nudge. “I don't know about you, mesmel, but I am tired.”

“Tired does not even begin to describe it,” Jasna told him, smothering a yawn. 

She stepped into their chambers and if she didn't know any better, Jasna would think they were sleeping outdoors. Three of the walls were just that—rough-hewn, but walls nonetheless—but the fourth?

“Thorin, have you ever seen anything like this?” 

This was the outer wall, which looked more like roughly woven vines that wouldn’t keep out a chipmunk, never mind anything else. The ceiling reminded her of a forest canopy, much like the one back along the river at Erebor. The chilled night air rustled though the fronds of leaves that were various shades of green, gold, and brown. 

He came up behind her, easing his arms about her waist. “Mesmel, we are behind a wall, remember. No one will enter without an invitation through the doorway and a fight through any other way. I’m a light sleeper and you have nothing to fear.”

She sank against him, exhaustion seeping into the very marrow of her bones. For one who’d never ventured further than Erebor, Jasna had no idea how tiring travel could be. Her eyes stung with fatigue, but she thought if she let them close, she might simply collapse into a heap on the floor. The room was far more open than she’d expected, but the cool air would make sleeping cozy.

Or so she hoped.

“Tell me the beds here are at least comfortable,” she murmured, biting back a sigh as Thorin swept a teasing kiss along the side of her neck.

“I could not tell you,” he murmured back, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling along her ear, “for I spent my time here in first a cell, then a barrel. We were not exactly welcomed guests, you know.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “A cell, dwarf?”

“Oh, yes. I was dragged away from the others and brought before Thranduíl and when I refused to agree to his terms, he had me tossed into the dungeon with the others.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” She slowly turned toward him, slipping her arms about his thick waist. Gazing up at him, she added, “You have a way with people, you know.”

Thorin’s eyes, every bit as tired as hers felt, softened and a hint of a smile played at his lips. “I do, when properly motivated. I trusted Thranduíl about as far as I could toss him.”

“And now?”

“It’s about the same, but since the odds are that his kingdom and mine will be entangled by marriage? We may not trust one another, but we can get along. For short periods, anyway.”

“Is Tauriel his daughter?”

“Not that I’m aware. She’s a captain in his guard. But elves view themselves in similar fashion as dwarves. Family, but not bound by blood.”

As he spoke, his large hands came up to cradle her face between them. “And you look beyond tired, mesmel,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing along the curves of her cheeks, “so perhaps we should think about going to sleep.”

“I think that is a wonderful idea.”

He smiled and bent toward her. As his lips met hers, Jasna curled her fingers about his thick wrists. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite so tired…

It was so peaceful, lying there beneath the canopy of leaves and branches. Jasna tucked against him, her head on his chest, her arm draped over his hips, and her breath came slow and deep, skittering across his bare chest with each breath.

But Thorin couldn't sleep. Oh, he was tired enough, to be sure, but the unfamiliar sounds carried on the breeze woke him at every turn. Moonlight slitted through that canopy, and it is beams, the Orcrist gleamed silver. 

Silver and not blue. Neither orc nor troll lurked nearby.

And yet, he still couldn't sleep. 

The bed was comfortable enough—a far cry from the cramped cell he’d shared with Balin the last time he was in Mirkwood—the sheets smooth and soft, the blanket warm and soft. And yet, he couldn't sleep. 

His fingers moved of their own along Jasna’s bare arm, down along her equally bare back. She was soft as well. Warm. Fit against him as perfectly as if Mahal had made her just for him. He smiled into the darkness. His wife. When he’d first opened his eyes in the infirmary, following the battle with Azog, and saw her, he never dreamed this was where they would find themselves. All he knew was he was in agony and she made the pain stop. She made the nightmares more bearable. 

She made him whole, in every way possible. 

She sighed in her sleep and rolled away from him, tugging the quilt and blanket to her ear as she did. He smiled into the darkness and took that as his sign, moving to the edge of the bed to reach for his trousers. He slid into them as he stood and as quietly as he could manage, he moved to the far wall, to a courtyard of sorts that was just beyond their chambers. A low, stone wall ringed the courtyard, a hint of jasmine in the air, heady and sweet, and with a low sigh, he sank onto the wall. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wasn’t entirely comfortable in Mirkwood. He had no cause to not be. Thranduíl had been as welcoming as he knew how, and Thorin didn't feel as if they’d be shown back to his cell any time soon.

And yet, he just wasn’t comfortable. 

From where he sat, he could still keep an eye on Jasna. And so that is exactly what he did. He sank back against what felt like an actual tree trunk, and just watched her sleep from across the room. From Mirkwood, they would travel west toward Rivendell, and from there, possibly the Shire.

Thorin wasn't certain how he felt about venturing out to pay a call on Bilbo. On one hand, the invitation to come visit had been extended, but on the other? The last time dwarves alit upon the Shire, Bilbo found himself hosting a party he hadn’t planned on, and dwarves weren’t the best of houseguests.

But at the same time, he wanted to stop by and visit. He owed his life to Bilbo, as it was because Bilbo threw himself at an orc about to behead Thorin. Tackled him and ran him through as if he—Bilbo—had been a seasoned warrior when in fact the opposite was true. And then out on the ice, when Thorin faced off against Azog, Bilbo had stayed with him, talked to him to try to keep him conscious long enough for help to arrive.

With a soft sigh and and even softer rustle of linens, Jasna rose from the bed, drawing on a light robe as she padded toward him. “Thorin? What are you doing?”

“I couldn't sleep.” There was no point in lying to her about it. She knew him well enough by now to have seen how troubled sleep plagued him from time to time.

Sure enough, she rubbed one eye as she said, “Nightmares?”’

“Not this time.” He reached for her, catching her by the hands to draw her in between his knees. “Why are you awake?”

“I had an odd dream.”

“Tell me about it.”

She shook her head. “I don't really remember all of it, but we were on our way to the Shire and orcs were chasing us.” She looked up at him. “But, I wasn’t afraid. And when one caught up to us, I slapped him soundly across the face and told him to leave us be and he did… it was so odd. They all just vanished at that point.”

“Well, that is a good thing, for they rarely just vanish.”

“I wouldn’t know. I only ever met any right after you and your Company left Esgaroth.”

He sighed softly. “I had no idea they were still following us at that point.”

“They were determined to find you, I guess.”

“They were determined to end me.” He let his fingers slip lightly along her hair.

She snugged closer to him, letting her head come to rest against his chest as she said, “And I am so glad they didn’t.”

“You are not the only one, mesmel.”

Jasna picked her head up and smiled at him. “You should come to bed, Mr. Durin,” she murmured, trailing her fingers up his chest, along the curve of his neck.

His belly fluttered at the soft invitation in her voice, in her eyes, even as he asked, “And why is that?”

“Because I think I might find a way to make you sleepy.”

Her fingers danced lightly along the nape of his neck, the tingles she left in her wake sweeping through him, becoming warmth that soon grew into heat with a each light, teasing stroke. He gazed down, whispering, “Is that so?”

She nodded as she drew him down to meet her lips. As their kiss deepened, he carefully rose from the wall, scooped her up into his arms, and spirited her back to the bed, pressing her down beneath him. 

[drgarrisonandpaul]

My Issue With Mask De Masculine...

MINORS DNI, SOME OF THESE ARE NSFW BECAUSE I HAVE ISSUES

The issue is that I'm obsessed, and now I'm gonna dump headcanons on you in hopes it gets me in the mood to write for other characters

Under his mask is the same bright, baby-faced dude but with freckles, and I wanna say cerulean blue eyes. Just a nice vivid, mid-toned, same shade as gatorade-type of blue.

He has THIS hair. Short, messy mohawk, and in the back there's a little star shaved into it

Mans loves fighting but hates conflict, why be so dramatic about it? Just fight me!! I think that's why he (SPOILERS) gets so pissed and drops his act at the end of his fight with Renji. Renji is just DOGGING him, both verbally and physically, so much that it feels personal and he is NOT up for that

Mask and James sleep in bunk beds and treat their room like a college flat, that room is MESSY. I mean- sure, the floor is clear of items, but there's crumbs everywhere, it's darkened because they don't bother taking off their shoes, and the dresser, desk, and nightstand are very casually covered in dishes, papers (like the documents he doesn't read), and little items and trinkets that James brings around. The dishes get taken out once every few days, but that's the most of the cleaning that happens

Big boy loves a glitter beard (or rather, a glitter mustache), he does one every holiday. There is always going to be glitter on his bed, clothes, walls, carpet, everywhere. It is an eternal curse, and he finds it hilarious

Mask prefers a partner with chihuahua energy. Short and short-tempered, doesn't matter the gender. (because we love an Omnisexual king) This way, he can feel like a big, strong, masculine man, but also have someone fight his verbal battles for him (because again, he hates conflict but loves a fight)

More likely than not, he's gonna fall in love at the gym or during any sort of training. Seeing and hearing a small, angry person beat the ever-living shit out of their opponent just turns on the cheerleader in this man, which is more likely than not what he's gonna want in a relationship. You're his cheerleader as is he is yours

NSFW ZONE

However, that's not to say that falling in love is required. I can imagine Mask being pretty promiscuous when he wants to be because it inflates his ego and makes him feel wanted and attractive. If you show a certain amount of interest, dangling the proverbial line in his face, he's gonna take it HOOK. AND. SINKER.

Due to the aforementioned glitter-mustache obsession and the extension of his room and bed being constantly shimmering with residual glitter, if you sleep with him, everyone will know. There's only one class of people in the Silbern that shine brighter than the rest, and those people are just Mask's previous lovers

He likes to grip and grope. He feels like a very grabby person, not constantly, just randomly throughout the day, during sex, or during snuggling. He'll adjust rough/gentle depending on the partner, but either way, you best believe you're gonna get grabbed

AHEM. Size difference kink.

Speaking of size, I think he's average, between 4-5 inches and very proud and confident about it. You don't want this? Cool. Byyyyeee~

He likes it when his partner power-bottoms, getting to sit back and watch them do their thing with that big, stupid grin on his face

He especially likes it if said power-bottoming partner is inexperienced and clumsy, trying to climb over him and hoist themselves up by gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. It's cute

At the end of it, when it's more sloppy and tired, Mask is probably gonna hold you down for leverage, pressing your face into the pillows and letting out happy, growling chuckles at the sound of your muffled voice

Likes to make a show out of stripping down, flexing and posing around like a big goofy idiot as he shows you the real 'star flash'

Probably not great with his hands, but definitely good with his mouth. Again with the gripping thing, holding your thighs firmly around his face and laughing at the sight of your melted form once he's done

Definitely not serious in bed. It's just a funny act to him! Especially with all the sounds it can make and how cute you look when he makes you beg for it

Ok, that's all of my depravity, BYYYYEEE

[smokeybrandreviews]

Birthday Cake

X-Men ’97 is just over the horizon and I am mad hyped about it. I grew up on that show. It was one of the few cartoons which both my mother and I could watch together. I, being an unapologetic Marvel shill, was all over the Mutants while my mom was actually enamored with the narrative. There were a few cartoons from back that that caught her attention. The Maxx, Gargoyles, and Spawn were also favorites. Don’t ask why I was watching HBO’s Spawn as a twelve year old kid. Or reading his comics. Or even buying them.  Look, man, the Nineties were a different time. We drank out of hoses and watched ultraviolent anime because our parents thought they were “just cartoons.” We were feral, latchkey kids, back in my halcyon days. Good times. Tangent aside, X-Men inform a great deal about how I perceived Marvel Merry Mutants. It was my first exposure to characters like Apocalypse and Nimrod. While I had read The Dark Phoenix saga as a youngster, it was this show which adapted it perfectly. Live action is still chasing that high. Not only that, but it launched Marvel’s very first, and wildly successful, connected universe. Without X-Men, we wouldn’t have gotten that just-as-iconic Spider-Man cartoon, or the lesser known but equally excellent Iron Man, Incredible Hulk, and Fantastic Four shows. The Nineties X-Men cartoon was a watershed moment for Marvel and for Millennials as a whole. For us Marvels shills, it rivaled Batman: The Animated Series in popularity. So color me surprised that X-Men ’97 is being colored as controversial.

Out the box, it’s that tired ass argument that X-Men ’97 too woke. Everything is always too woke. What started out as people being frustrated they turned Rogue’s decadent, devil’s food, bunt cakes, into petite, little, tea biscuits, has spiraled into a weird fervor about who’s gay or something-something forced representation. Half-hearted kidding aside, it’s staggering to me that people are actually mad about this stupid sh*t. Do they even know what the f*ck X-Men is about? The entire concept of a marginalized part of the community, fighting just to be seen as human, is literally the wokest sh*t you can ever write and THAT’S the core of the X-Men mythos! The Uncanny X-Men started out as a very heavy handed allegory for the Civil Rights movement and, while this wasn’t Stan Lee’s initial intent, the characters of Professor X and Magneto became stand ins for the ideologies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. Just, you know, with super powers. The X-Men are the epitome of Woke so to complain about that sh*t seems like you don’t even understand the f*cking point of the narrative. I miss rogue’s big fat ass just as much as the next kid, but you’re f*cking pathetic if you feel some kind of way about Morph being pansexual or non-binary (They literally can change into anything. Like Mystique). There are actual things to be outraged about, like how the creator of this revival is pretty much a scumbag, or how Marvel Studios has been suffering in the writing department for years. That’s where my concern would lie, especially considering how well written the OG show was.

Is this show going to be Woke? Absolutely. That’s the entire goddamn point of the X-Men. It’s the core of who they are. Take that away and what do you have? A bunch of Capes with random f*cking powers who live in the same house. Where’s the hook? Where’s the draw? Where’s the meat? How are they different than the Avengers at that point? The Fantastic Four? The Defenders? It’s that sprinkling of social consciousness which really gets the juices flowing, really revs up those storytelling engines. I mean, tell me how you write something as profound as God Loves, Man Kills, without it being “Woke”? You can’t. That is a gut-punch of a read and it’s pulled right out of today’s headlines, even though it was written forty years ago. The fear-mongering is real, but instead of Nightcrawler, it’s Mexicans. Same goddamn energy, same goddamn racist ass narrative. Even when they are spiraling out into a world of sci-fi, deep space, time travel misadventures, the core of their narrative is how much they are hated. This whole Krakoa saga, some of the best X-Stories told in decades, is coming to a close because of that long held hate and fear. House of M? Role reversal, mutants accepted and humans forced into being second class citizens. Decimation? Wanda kills off the powers to ninety percent of the entire Mutant population. Utopia, Operation: Zero Tolerance, Genosha, the entirety of the Ultimate run: All derivative of that social pressure and general fear toward the different. That’s what makes an X-Men story, and X-Men story. Getting mad about that sh*t after decades of that being a core aspect of their stories, is f*cking dumb. Not as dumb as Marvel excising Rouge’s cheeks, though. Rest in Power, you doubled-up, delicious, pound cakes! You will be missed.

[thevindicativevordan]

Thoughts on the new Priest/Pagulayan Superman mini announced?

I did not see this coming!

Priest was expressing some frustration in recent podcast interviews he was on that he felt like he was getting pigeonholed as "a villain writer" the same way he had been pigeonholed as "a black writer". Now he gets the chance to write a straightforward hero, and one of the Trinity no less. Shocked it isn't Batman given that's the guy Priest has named as his favorite DC hero, but Kaminski is close to Priest since he edited Priest's Deathstroke run, which might be why it's Superman instead of Batman Priest ended up on.

When it comes to Superman himself Priest has said this:

I see Kal-El as a kind of buffed out Tom Hanks: an identifiable Everyman with whom I identify a great deal. As a minister and a person of faith, I try, every day, to do good, to be helpful. We live in a cynical world where people are perhaps rightly suspicious of strangers trying to help them, and it is frustrating to constantly be treated with suspicion. There are days when I tire of it, where I become anxious about it, where I throw up my hands in anger.

But, the next day, I just get up and start over again. That’s Superman.

Amusingly in that same interview he also said there was little to no chance he would ever write Superman because "his" Superman would bear little resemblance to the Rebirth incarnation of the time, and likely mock that status quo. Will this story retain that aspect? I know quite a few people who would love to see Priest take the piss out of that era, as a guy who mostly enjoyed Rebirth I'm game to see Priest take swings at Superman. We've got PKJ and Williamson doing the ongoings which are all about letting Superman be cool, Waid as the biggest Superman fanboy ever writing the character in World's Finest and Testament, even Russel is very positive towards the character in Space Age, no better time than now to let Priest deconstruct Superman before hopefully putting him back together.

Pitch reminds me of Joe Kelly's Superman story where he's stuck fighting demons with Wonder Woman for eons. He's tempted to cheat on Lois but stays true, that was a story all about Superman's willpower and fidelity. Here I expect the story will examine the emotional toll that comes with being Superman. If like me you've been waiting for a Tom King Mister Miracle-esque approach to the character as opposed to the love letter of Up in the Sky, then I think this book will give you what you've been looking for. Reuniting the Deathstroke team for Superman makes me very excited to get my hands on this come March.

[smokeybrand]

Birthday Cake

X-Men ’97 is just over the horizon and I am mad hyped about it. I grew up on that show. It was one of the few cartoons which both my mother and I could watch together. I, being an unapologetic Marvel shill, was all over the Mutants while my mom was actually enamored with the narrative. There were a few cartoons from back that that caught her attention. The Maxx, Gargoyles, and Spawn were also favorites. Don’t ask why I was watching HBO’s Spawn as a twelve year old kid. Or reading his comics. Or even buying them.  Look, man, the Nineties were a different time. We drank out of hoses and watched ultraviolent anime because our parents thought they were “just cartoons.” We were feral, latchkey kids, back in my halcyon days. Good times. Tangent aside, X-Men inform a great deal about how I perceived Marvel Merry Mutants. It was my first exposure to characters like Apocalypse and Nimrod. While I had read The Dark Phoenix saga as a youngster, it was this show which adapted it perfectly. Live action is still chasing that high. Not only that, but it launched Marvel’s very first, and wildly successful, connected universe. Without X-Men, we wouldn’t have gotten that just-as-iconic Spider-Man cartoon, or the lesser known but equally excellent Iron Man, Incredible Hulk, and Fantastic Four shows. The Nineties X-Men cartoon was a watershed moment for Marvel and for Millennials as a whole. For us Marvels shills, it rivaled Batman: The Animated Series in popularity. So color me surprised that X-Men ’97 is being colored as controversial.

Out the box, it’s that tired ass argument that X-Men ’97 too woke. Everything is always too woke. What started out as people being frustrated they turned Rogue’s decadent, devil’s food, bunt cakes, into petite, little, tea biscuits, has spiraled into a weird fervor about who’s gay or something-something forced representation. Half-hearted kidding aside, it’s staggering to me that people are actually mad about this stupid sh*t. Do they even know what the f*ck X-Men is about? The entire concept of a marginalized part of the community, fighting just to be seen as human, is literally the wokest sh*t you can ever write and THAT’S the core of the X-Men mythos! The Uncanny X-Men started out as a very heavy handed allegory for the Civil Rights movement and, while this wasn’t Stan Lee’s initial intent, the characters of Professor X and Magneto became stand ins for the ideologies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. Just, you know, with super powers. The X-Men are the epitome of Woke so to complain about that sh*t seems like you don’t even understand the f*cking point of the narrative. I miss rogue’s big fat ass just as much as the next kid, but you’re f*cking pathetic if you feel some kind of way about Morph being pansexual or non-binary (They literally can change into anything. Like Mystique). There are actual things to be outraged about, like how the creator of this revival is pretty much a scumbag, or how Marvel Studios has been suffering in the writing department for years. That’s where my concern would lie, especially considering how well written the OG show was.

Is this show going to be Woke? Absolutely. That’s the entire goddamn point of the X-Men. It’s the core of who they are. Take that away and what do you have? A bunch of Capes with random f*cking powers who live in the same house. Where’s the hook? Where’s the draw? Where’s the meat? How are they different than the Avengers at that point? The Fantastic Four? The Defenders? It’s that sprinkling of social consciousness which really gets the juices flowing, really revs up those storytelling engines. I mean, tell me how you write something as profound as God Loves, Man Kills, without it being “Woke”? You can’t. That is a gut-punch of a read and it’s pulled right out of today’s headlines, even though it was written forty years ago. The fear-mongering is real, but instead of Nightcrawler, it’s Mexicans. Same goddamn energy, same goddamn racist ass narrative. Even when they are spiraling out into a world of sci-fi, deep space, time travel misadventures, the core of their narrative is how much they are hated. This whole Krakoa saga, some of the best X-Stories told in decades, is coming to a close because of that long held hate and fear. House of M? Role reversal, mutants accepted and humans forced into being second class citizens. Decimation? Wanda kills off the powers to ninety percent of the entire Mutant population. Utopia, Operation: Zero Tolerance, Genosha, the entirety of the Ultimate run: All derivative of that social pressure and general fear toward the different. That’s what makes an X-Men story, and X-Men story. Getting mad about that sh*t after decades of that being a core aspect of their stories, is f*cking dumb. Not as dumb as Marvel excising Rouge’s cheeks, though. Rest in Power, you doubled-up, delicious, pound cakes! You will be missed.

[monsterlibrarian]

Title: The Iron King

Author: Julie Kagawa

Genres: fantasy, ya

Source: overdrive ebook

Rating: 💩 💩

Comments: so i no longer trust the taste of the friend who keeps recommending julie kagawa books to me. yes, i think this was better than the dragon books, but that’s such a low bar and this still stumbled over it. it’s just a cycle of the main character being explicitly told “don’t do this thing”, her essentially flipping off whoever told her that because her character is misunderstood and therefore rebellious teen that people make demands of for no reason, doing the thing anyway and immediately experiencing horrible consequences for the actions she was specifically warned against, and then never learning or getting a clue or taking a second to think critically about her choices instead of just knee-jerk doing the opposite of any advice given to her. it’s boring, it’s frustrating, and likely will not ever stop. i won’t waste time with what’s becoming my standard takeaways of the writing in these books beyond a quick list: flat characters, repetitive text, inconsistent vocab, weightless stakes, and flimsy worldbuilding. it was disappointing to see all the insistence that faeries aren’t like humans and don’t have the same thoughts/values/emotions/rules and that the faery world is so incomprehensive to humans and everything and everyone is so dangerous in ways humans couldn’t even consider, and then absolutely none of that translates into the story at all. it’s repeatedly stressed that bargains and gifts and thanks are all weighty and dangerous to maneuver, but even after she faces repeated consequences for not being careful with this meghan keeps accepting gifts and saying thank you unnecessarily to the very end. and the faeries around her just shrug it off or forgive her or delay any real impact it might have. the version my library had to check out was some sort of box set with five books in it but i’m so tired of nothing mattering that even my insatiable need to finish a story isn’t going to get me through. i don’t want to read any more and of you haven’t read any please do not start. i’m going to see if i can find my copy of terry pratchett’s wintersmith and then use it to erase my memory of this book.

[heartandfangs]

18+ EN- Fics That Have Ruined Me In Some Form.

I tend to write fics more than I read these days BUT I’ve been meaning to do this little post series to show some love to fics that have been on my mind! Hope to do more of these in the future. 🖤⚰️

— P.

Kitten by @real-queena

This fic started this post that’s been in my drafts for months. I’ve never read anything related to Primal Play and I think it’s fascinating; I just straight up love it. Also down bad for Sunghoon’s character, this mf is cold but he cares for MC in his own lil’ ways.

Everything leading up to the smut put me on edge in the best way. Like, imagine being chased down by this motherfucker who’s 90% legs?? 😭 Even if he gives you a head start WHO ARE YOU KIDDING.

I love all the details; I mean all of them (like the bar in the woods bc I’d be all over that shit). The side characters— like the other Dominants— are interesting and their banter adds to the story. Personally, I don’t like putting idols from other groups as side characters in my fics, so I appreciated how they were actual oc’s. (Nothing wrong with not using oc’s, I just prefer oc’s unless it’s like Enha + HYBE Japan boys since they’re from the same “universe” and doesn’t break the immersion for me.)

Love the how the fic takes place in the woods, and the expensive atmosphere; almost gives me Eyes Wide Shut vibes since the group of people feel like elites. Who know’s if they are though. (Anyone else fascinated by the occult?)

Idk if the author is active but I still think about this fic even months after reading it 🫶 I’d love to write something inspired by Primal Play in the future.

All For Me, All For You by @jngsngie

Honestly, I could put any of Astrid’s fics here. Actually I’m gonna put Always Make Me Feel So Good here too. Sub Enha Queen 🖤

I love All For me, All For You because of softdom!Jay (he’s just so sweet) and just the fact that he made custom lingerie for MC what a KING. Also, I just found it SO HOT when Jay licked through her panties.

Anything to do with licking or kissing through clothing I CAN’T DO IT. I AM MENTALLY GONE. Maybe because it’s just extra teas-y 🦋

Always Make Me Feel So Good has such a cute dynamic between MC and sub!Jake— I love that she had him write out his likes and dislikes because Jake is so adorable about it. My favorite line of dialogue is when MC rips her panties out of Jake’s mouth and the first thing he does is call her mommy and says she looks pretty 🫠 ALSO 💖 Sex Toys 💖

Invasion of Privacy by @bruh-changbin

This is the most recent fic I’ve read 🤪 Heeseung’s roommate occupation as a little panty thief had me choking like PANTIES FROM THE HAMPER. SIRRR🖐🫠 Hee having to listen to his roommate getting fucked by a rando makes me root for him.

His “I could fuck her better” attitude has me rolling, I’m just like— DO IT.

The day he finally gets caught by MC OR works up enough courage to approach her is the day I WILL FINALLY LIVE. 🤍 Will I ever get tired of sexual tensions between roommates? Probably not.

[dalishious]

The Whiteness of Rebellion in Dragon Age

The recent “Freedom Truck Convoy” nonsense here in Canada has made me reflect on how Indigenous peoples are treated like terrorists when we try to protect our lands and waters, but when white nationalists literally storm Ottawa, they are coddled like babies.

[Related Article: ‘We just get violence:’ Is there an inequality gap when it comes to protesting?]

[Related Video: Leah Gazan speaks on the Emergency's Act]

And now I cannot help but look at the way BioWare writes their different rebellions in a similar contrast.

I love a good rebellion story as much as the next cool person. When told well, they are a source of hope and inspiration. The world of Dragon Age is chalked full of rebellion, past and present. Heck, the largest religious organization was formed in worship of a woman who led a slave uprising against the Tevinter Imperium. And yet, most portrayals of rebellion in the franchise have been either angsty backdrop, or from a perspective where the rebels are at best “morally grey”, or at worst straight-up written as villains.

The big exception to this is The Stolen Throne novel, where Maric, Loghain and Rowan and the rebels serve as the heroic protagonists fighting back against Orlesian occupation. So why is it when Dalish elves fight back against Orlesian occupation, they are s*vages who “just need to forgive”? Why is it when fog warriors fight back against Tevinter and Qunari occupation, they are nothing but backdrop fodder for character angst, rather than ever given any agency or detail of their own?

The Stolen Throne tells the tale of how Ferelden wins back its independence from Orlesian invasion and occupation, which lasted from 8:24 Blessed to 9:00 Dragon. The Orlesian military controls Ferelden with cruelty and oppression against the native inhabitants. King Meghren rules with a fearsome fist, and delights in abusing his power. The rebels amass a large group of people who tire of this control, and join in the efforts to fight for their freedom and regain independence. It is a long and uphill battle, told as an exciting, classic kind of tale that hits all the beats expected of it. There is no black and white or “grey morality”; the Orlesian occupiers are the bad guys, and the Fereldan rebels are the good guys. Even when the Fereldans are put in a position to make tough decisions, like sacrificing people to save others, it is always written as holding the moral high ground over the Orlesians.

Both Ferelden and the Dales were/are occupied by Orlais. Both have rebelled/do rebel against the Orlesian invaders. But when it comes to the Ferelden Rebellion, no one ever begs the question, “maybe the Fereldans should just forgive the Orlesians,” “maybe the Fereldans should accept the past as the past, despite the fact that the occupation is ongoing,” or “maybe the Fereldans deserved to be violently invaded because they didn’t just let Orlais take over.” And yet, you cannot go three minutes without hearing those very notions about elves versus Orlesian occupation of the Dales. Sometimes written from the mouths of elves themselves!

What is the difference? One rebellion is coded as white, while the other is coded as Indigenous.

[Related Post: Indigenous Coding in the Elves of Dragon Age]

The Fereldans are brave freedom fighters with the moral right. The elves are trouble-makers who need to “get over it”. The Fereldans get to tell their own stories of struggle and are taken seriously. The elves are whiny complainers who need to “get over it”. The Fereldans win, because the good guys always win. The elves are put down time and time again, and need to “get over it”. “Just get over it.” How many times have I been told this myself? How many times have Indigenous peoples collectively been told we need to just “get over it”? It is no surprise this same rhetoric is used in the Dragon Age franchise, when the Indigenous stand-ins try to fight back against colonialism.

[Related Post: “Old” Wounds]

Another example of how whiteness is relative to the treatment of rebellion in Dragon Age, is the Fog Warriors. The Fog Warriors are a group of natives to Seheron fighting for independence from both Tevinter and Qunari invaders, who are in turn fighting each other for control over the island. (Being a northern island, they are coded as people of colour.) This is a long-time ongoing conflict, and yet despite this, we know next to nothing about them. They are only treated as backdrop flavour, off in the distance. We have even had three characters who have been on Seheron and interacted with the Fog Warriors! Sten, Fenris, and Iron Bull. But they share so little about them that they don’t matter much. Fenris speaks the most, having lived among them for some time, and yet even he says very little. It rings familiar of the “it only happens over there, so it’s not important” notion that permeates western nation views on real life violence. I’m not saying we need to be there for it—although I certainly would not deny I have a huge interest in visiting Seheron someday in the games—but there is so much untapped potential to flesh them out, even if just in lore texts, like the codex entries. There is one single codex entry told form the perspective of a Seheron native, over the course of three games. [Link]

There is an unfairness in the differences between how these rebellions are written about. The unfairness comes from the differences in the rebellions themselves. It paints a clear picture: Your struggle only matters if you’re white. What a lovely message. //sarcasm

[toonblabbers]

Balls to the Walls Random Headcanons

A/N: Just trying to flex and expand my writing with other characters: Ace Edition - Ushijima, Iwaizumi, Aran, Hoshiumi, Asahi, Yamamoto and Sakusa!

I didn’t write about my big sexy himbo Bokuto because my blog is like almost 90% him

This contains some mentions to smut so hey: minors DNI! Thanks!

 Ushijima:

Service top with a dash of Dom. Got a big cock but he doesn’t know what to do with it so please help him out.

Had one (1) partner before you and they told him he can be too rough so now he’s the literal definition of Gentle Giant. Again tell him what to do and how you like it

He on the other hand…Well he’s got a hard body from years of strength and endurance training. He has very specific spots where he’s super sensitive, but he’s easily embarrassed about them

One spot is right behind his earlobe. Sit in his lap, pinch his ear and gently rub it between your fingers. The sight of Ushi’s eyes fluttering closed as his breathing picks up is truly a sight to behold

Another spot is his wrist; stare him in the eyes and kiss his wrist before a match to have his knees quake a little and shorts feel a little tighter

Actually loves to discover new kinks with you. He finds it more romantic than having a quiet dinner with you in an expensive restaurant

Can be a big ole needy baby during the off season of volleyball. Tugging on your shirt when you leave the bed, follows you into the bathroom, stands behind you in the kitchen or when you’re doing laundry. He’s not vocal with his words but more with his body

Don’t tease him though; it’s still a very new feeling for him to express

 Iwaizumi

Hates fighting with you but loves to pull you close and soothe you with a hot kiss

Has big Dom Daddy energy, but there are a few ways to make him start to crumble under you touch

If you use any piece of clothing to pull him in closer to you like his collar, his tie when he wears one, or his belt. Lean in like your gonna kiss him, stare at his lips then his eyes and then just walk away like nothing happened. You bet your sweet ass he’s gonna follow you to get that kiss

Another way that he refuses to admit he likes: play with his nipples. He’s got some fairly big and dark nipples compared to his friends and they get hard easily. Brush your fingers over them when you lean in to kiss and he’s got diamonds poking through his polo shirt

One way that he will admit is ass play. Now he’s not ready to full on take a cock in his ass, but things like your fingers, anal beads, or a vibrator? Makes him practically cum on the spot

Loves it when you get rough on him. Not like in a “I’m gonna slap you” kind of way but in the “grab him by the hair and demand he fucks you properly when he’s taking it too slow” kind of way

His cock pulsing hard inside of you and his eyes dilating is a dead giveaway of how much he loves it

 Aran

Admittedly, he doesn’t have a monster dong (sorry not sorry, not all fucking black guys have a big cock so stop fetishing it thanks – from a black woman) but it does have a nice curve to it

He’s a disgusting romantic so full on he will bust out the candles, the rose petals, and the silk robe waiting on the bed for you. He saw it in a movie once as a kid and wanted to try it ever since

He so cute though because since he is a big romantic, he’s always cooking you breakfast and singing a little song in the morning for you. He even does a little dance while carrying the tray off food just to see you smile in the morning

He’s also such a soft Dom dude. Admittedly a little scared to try an bottom for you but man does he make you feel loved when he’s in between your legs

Loves to hold your hands or hold you close when he cums. Wants you to feel how his whole body shudders because of how good you make him feel

Big ole cuddle bug so it’s best to have some towels and water bottles by the bed cause neither of you are moving unless he says so

He’s a man a of quality and not quantity, so yeah you guys only go one round of sex cause he’s bone tired after he cums. That doesn’t mean he can’t make you cum multiple times though

Hoshiumi

 A short King. We stan (I’m 5’9 so he’s short to me)

He is a meeeeessy boi dude like if ya’ll in a hurry to fuck, he’ll quickly slobber all over you and use as much spit as he needs to slide home. Loves how tight you are, but he’s careful enough to make sure it doesn’t hurt you…..too much

Loves. To. Fuck. You. Both. Dumb.

Did you just cum? Well he’s not stopping until he cums. Did he just cum? Well he’s not stopping until you cum. Wants to keep it equal

Please sit on his face. He loves it. And if you play with his balls like rolling them in your hands and squeezing them? He’s whining and panting while eating you out like a mad man

He adores it when you play with his hair when you’re cuddling. Just don’t be surprised if he starts humping against you. It just feels so good

He’s very competitive so god help you if you’re with his friends and they start talking about their sex stories.

If there’s a friend there (Hinata) that talks about the kind of kinks they do with their partner and it’s something you guys haven’t tried before? Guess what’s on the list tonight

 Asahi

God just hold him. He needs it. Another one that's is a great service top for someone who loves to lead from the bottom (me @ me)

Not the biggest set in the world but he's got passion so sex is almost always soft and sweet

He's still hot in his own ways like the way his deep grunts start to turn into softest and sweetest moans

Or the way he stares at you; eyes swirling between lust and loves with tears threatening to spill

Please don't be mean to him unless he asks. It's evident that he holds a lot of insecurities and he's trying his best for you. Love and dote on him because his aftercare is top tier

Even if you guys don't do anything special or crazy. Just some straight vanilla sex, he always makes sure that you're comfortable before you go to bed

Also he helps you establish a nightly routine with him so what's not to love about that?

Yamamoto

SIMP ALERT. Be ready for one of the LOUDEST simps out there. 

I'm talking a bigger simp than all the setters for Hinata or all the captains for Daichi

You can fit so much passion and respecting people juice into this boy right here

I don't see him being a wild boy but if you're into it then so is he. Want him to spank you? He's gonna ask how hard baby.

However if you want to do something that he seems a bit hesitant on, he’s gonna try to be overconfident with everything. Make sure you talk to him and make sure you have a solid agreement with with him. Communication is key with him!

He's a little sloppy and lazy with his aftercare but you know what, it's always fun with him

I don't know much about him but he gives off that vibe of a man that runs on pure fiery passion and motivation. Like if he’s feeling like loving on you tonight? Be ready to not do a damn thing cause youre gonna be his precious pillow gem (idk if there's a gn term for ‘pillow princess’)

Sakusa

Ooof. Where do I begin with this beautiful man. Pretty body with a pretty cock to match for starts

He’s sexy man but he has these cute little moles all over his body. He personally doesn’t like them but please kiss each one even the one on his butt. He may not voice it but he loves it so much

He will gladly do the same for you; kissing you every part of your body that you may not like about yourself.

Doesn’t have a high sex drive, but when he’s in the mood, damn you better clear your plans. He believes in both quantity AND quality so you will be thoroughly fucked out when he’s done with you

I see him as the kind of dom that goes for the kind of pleasure that benefits you both. Not a selfish lover but also not an absolute giver like the others

Yeah there are nights where he wants to treat you but others nights he’s gonna make you work for it

Tagging: @hiddenbluee, @kou-taro, @justcoffeewithoutcaffeine​

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

A scene in the infirmary shakes Jasna up and later on, she joins Thorin for dinner with the others... 

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Dís, Ormir (Iron Hills dwarf), Narnerra, Óin, Balin, Dwalin, Bilbo Baggins

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,672

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

The infirmary seemed different without Thorin in it and while Jasna knew it was only her imagination, she couldn’t help but think it was quieter as well. It wasn’t, in reality, as Thorin was anything but noisy and in fact, the four dwarves from the Iron Hill were far noisier than of the dwarves of Erebor. Noisy. Boisterous. Crude. Jasna preferred to not have to work with them, as they were not nearly as friendly as Erebor’s dwarves.

Still, she smiled as she greeted Ormir. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

He did not return the smile, but instead just stared at her with hard, dark gray eyes. “I feel the same I do every day,” he said, his voice short and terse. “I’m tired of being here.”

She tugged the small chart from the foot of his bed. He’d come in with a penetrating chest injury from an arrow, and had nearly a dozen wood shards pulled from around the wound as well, as well as several wounds from an axe and a serious head injury. “I kn-kn-know but we’d r-r-r-rather n-n-n—”

“R-r-r-rather n-n-n-not wh-wh-what?” He arched a dark gray brow. “Jus’ say it already! Spit it out!”

She swallowed hard as her heart sped up. “I am, Y-y-y-you just n-n-n-need to be pa-pa-pa—”

“What do I need ta be? Papered? Pampered? Óin!” His voice burst from his mouth like a thunderclap. “Get me a healer who isna total idiot, will ye?”

Her face grew hot as he glared up at her. “Did ye get dropped on yer head when ye were a wee one? Is tha’ why yer so stupid now?”

“I be-be-beg your p-p-p-p—”

“Ye beg my wha’? Speak ye great bloody fool!”

From across the infirmary, Óin shouted, “Ye watch yer fool tongue, Ormir, or I’ll see to it yer given a rectal before ye take yer leave of us! Ye leave off my lassie, understand? She’s smarter than ye’ll ever be!”

“I find tha’ ta be utter tosh!” Ormir’s eyes narrowed as he glared up at her. “Dinna even think about touchin’ me, ye idiot. Go away.”

“Very well.”

“Oh, tha’ ye can say! Well, look a’ ye go, then!”

Óin marched over and took Ormir’s chart from her. “Go and see if Narnerra needs ye, lassie. I’ll take care o’ this fool for ye.”

“Fool?” Ormir turned his glare to Óin now. “I’ve got more brains in my wee toe than tha’ turnip has in her entire body!”

“Ye haven’t the brains Mahal gave a rat,” Óin told him flatly. “And I’ll no’ have one of my brightest students wastin’ her time on yer sorry carcass.”

“There’s only one use for a lackwit like her and tha’s on her back in dark room!”

The other Iron Hill dwarves burst out laughing at that and Jasna’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment now. She ducked her head as she hurried away from their corner of the room and as she neared Narnerra, who sitting at Fíli’s bedside, they both looked up with sympathetic eyes.

“Oin s-s-said I w-w-w-was to s-s-s-see if y-y-you n-n-n-needed my h-h-h-h—“ The word clogged in her throat and her lips and tongue refused to unjam it, which made her eyes sting worse. To her horror, they overflowed, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I b-b-b-beg your p-p-pardon,” she whispered, hurrying around Narnerra, around Fíli’s bed, and straight for the door leading to the courtyard. 

The sun sparkled brilliantly off the snow, which had frozen over during the night, crunching as she strode across the courtyard to the far wall, where she stood, staring at the skeletons of what would be trees come the spring. She couldn't halt the tears, hot shame pumping them like her heart pumped her blood. No one had ever laid into her that way, and for absolutely no reason whatsoever. 

Her hands clenched into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms as she tried to control those blasted tears. Her cheeks grew colder by the moment, so she wondered if perhaps she might be able to freeze them, to freeze every hot, angry emotion surging through her. 

She leaned against the stone wall, a heavy sigh rising to her lips. Not even an entire day had passed since she was on top of the world, in Thorin’s arms, with him kissing her until she thought she’d faint from it. 

And now? Now, she wanted to go back into the infirmary and punch out a certain Iron Hill dwarf, no matter how much trouble it might get her into. 

But, she couldn’t do that. Her shoulders slumped. She’d tried since she was a child to smother her stammer, had tried everything either she or her mother could think of to convince her tongue, to convince her voice, that words should just flow. But no matter what, the speech knots simply would not loosen and it only worsened when she was upset. 

A soft wind skimmed through the tree branches, lifted the topmost layer of snow to send it powdering through the air. Several drifts had already formed in the courtyard’s far corner, swirling like frosting on a cake along the granite wall. 

“Are you all right?”

She turned to see Narnerra in the doorway, her forehead creased with concern, her eyes filled with sympathy. Slowly, Jasna nodded. “More or l-l-less, I suppose.”

“Ormir is obnoxious and always has been.” Narnerra crunched her way over to stand alongside Jasna, staring out at the naked trees. Her blonde curls floated on the gentle wind. “Dáin will see to it he regrets ever opening his fool mouth toward you.”

Jasna turned to her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dáin likes you. He thought you were very thorough with his thumb.” Narnerra smiled as she briefly looked over at her. “And I think he thinks you’ve a soft spot for Thorin. And they are cousins, so it stands to reason Dáin also has a soft spot for him.”

Jasna couldn't help her smile, even as she hoped the warmth in her cheeks didn't betray her as a blush. “His Majesty is very kind.”

“He is. Thorin is a good man. He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man. One could do far worse.”

Jasna’s spine stiffened. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m simply saying that he is a good man. I know some would hold what happened against him, but they are fools.” Narnerra turned toward Ravenhill. “He almost lost his life to save his people, but few would acknowledge that.”

“He does not speak of Ravenhill,” Jasna replied slowly, also looking at the stark, looming tower. 

“Nor will he, I think. He came too close to losing everything. Still,” Narnerra sighed softly, “he deserves to be happy, with a family of his own.”

“Everyone deserves th-that.”

“Aye, they do. But, I think Thorin would be a wonderful father and I would love to see him with little ones. He used to spoil Fíli and Kíli to the point where we thought Dís would throttle him.”

Jasna smiled. “It’s difficult to imagine.”

“Aye, he’s so stoic and stern now. Still, I think children would be good for him. Would show him that he is allowed to experience joy instead of sorrow and not feel guilty about it or fear losing it.”

“He’s known much sorrow, hasn’t he?”

“Oh, he has, yes. But, that is not my story to tell. So,” Narnera clapped her hands together. “Take a few more minutes to collect yourself. We are almost ready to discharge all but Fíli.”

“Oh, I hope he doesn’t grow l-lonely.”

“We will be starting a new treatment for him, trying to get him back up on his feet, both literally and figuratively, so he’ll have little time to dwell.” Narnerra smiled. “And do not let Ormir get to you. He’s a jackanapes. Always has been and always will be and nothing terrifies that dwarf like a smart woman.”

“Thank you,” Jasna replied softly. “I think I n-n-needed to hear that.”

“You are one of the brightest students to ever pass through our tutelage. And while there haven’t been very many, you are still one of the brightest. I know Óin is very proud of you, of how far you’ve come in only a matter of weeks.”

This time, the heat in Jasna’s cheeks was a pleasant one. She bobbed her head. “You’ve both been excellent teachers. And I thank you both for this opportunity.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Narnerra crunched back toward the infirmary door. “You’ve more than proven yourself. Don’t freeze out here.”

Jasna smiled. “I’ll try not to.”

“Good.”

Thorin moved through the Great Hall, mindful of the cane in his hand, and took great pains to neither trip himself nor anyone else with it as he stumped through it. The dinner hour couldn't come soon enough for him. 

“Thorin? Where are you off to?”

He bit back a sigh and held off an eye roll as Dís sidled up to him. “That is not of your concern, little sister.”

She offered up a smug smile, her blue eyes dancing with merriment. “It looks to me as if you’re heading toward the infirmary. Wounds paining you?”

“Dís, just…” He sighed, leaning on the cane’s handle. “Very well, I’m going to pay a visit to Miss Stoneham.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Dís.”

“What? If it’s business, I hope you’re feeling better quickly. If it’s pleasure, I hope you have a lovely evening.” She patted his shoulder. “Go on. Don’t let me hold you up.”

He tried to glare at her, but couldn’t hold it, giving in to his urge to smile instead. “Thank you.”

She winked and he continued on, pausing only when he caught sight of Jasna at the far end of the infirmary. He stood there, leaning on his cane, and just watched as she tucked a loose curl behind one ear as she leaned over and said something to Fíli. She smiled and in that moment, he forgot how to breathe. 

His heart sped up as he took the first step over the threshold, his mouth dry, his gaze riveted on her. Óin looked up. “Thorin? What brings ye in here? Are ye all right?”

“I’m fine, Óin,” he replied without taking his eyes from Jasna. “I’ve come to borrow your student, if it won’t cause trouble for her.”

“Jasna?”

“Do you have another?”

A slow smile crept over Óin’s face. “Take care with her.”

“She is in the safest of hands. I promise you. I am but taking her to dinner.”

“She is over there.”

Thorin smiled, bobbed his head, and wove his way around to where Jasna stood with her back to the room, stocking the cupboard before her. He crept up behind her and pressed a kiss into the top of her head, whispering, “Walk with me?”

She jumped and gasped at the same time. “Ah!”

“I’m sorry I startled you,” he murmured, stepping back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn't so sure he believed her. Her eyes were slightly red and her smile seemed forced. “Jasna?”

“I’m fine, really.” She set down the bottles in her hand. “I was just doing an inventory, is all, and I lost t-track of the t-time.”

“Finish what you need do and then we can go.”

“Are you cer-cer-certain this is a w-w-w-wise i-d-d—” She pressed her lips together, her eyes growing redder now. Her gaze darted around him, across the room, and when he peered over his shoulder, he realized she looked in the direction of the Iron Hills dwarves. His gut tightened. Something happened. Something to do with one or all of them.

“Jasna?”

“I’m f-f-finished.” She hastily stowed the bottles in the cupboard and offered up that same too-bright smile.

“What’s going on?”

“N-n-nothing. Shall we?”

“Jasna?”

“Please, I’m c-c-curious to s-s-s-see wh-wh-wh-what d-d-d-dining with you and your k-k-k-kin is like.”

“Jasna, please tell me.”

“It’s n-n-n-nothing. Now, pl-pl-please…”

He sighed. Her eyes had gone redder still and she looked almost nervously in the direction of one particular dwarf, whose name he didn't know. But, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her further, so he just said, “Very well. Come with me.”

Jasna tried to ignore the curious eyes that all slid in her direction as she entered the Great Hall on Thorin’s arm, tried to ignore the roar of her blood through her veins. Instead, she concentrated on the firm arm beneath hers and the low voice that whispered, “My arm is growing numb.”

“Oh, my…” She loosened her hold on him immediately. 

He let out a low laugh. “There is no need to be nervous. See? They’ve all gone back to their conversations.”

She looked about. Sure enough, the dwarves had returned to their own chatter and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

That relief was short-lived, however, as he led her to the table at the front of the hall, where Dís and Kíli sat along with Dwalin and Balin and the halfling she’d seen only from a distance. Her belly churned like the lake did before a storm and her mouth went dry as Thorin approached the table and said, “Good evening, all. I believe you know Miss Stoneham? She will be joining us this evening, so behave yourselves.” 

Everyone looked up at her with friendly eyes, with the exception of one—a man who was at least a head shorter than the dwarves and bore no beard. His reddish brown bushy hair poked up in all direction and although he smiled, she didn't miss how it didn't quite reach his eyes. They weren’t unfriendly, but they certainly weren’t exactly friendly, either.

“Ah, so you are Miss Stoneham,” he said, his voice only slightly warmer than his eyes. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, as Thorin has spoken of you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you all.” She turned to the halfling. “You must be Mr. Baggins. His Majesty has spoken of you.”

At the mention of Thorin, the hobbit’s dark eyes warmed. “He has?”

“Oh, yes. He told me you aided him at Ravenhill, after he was wounded.”

“I did, indeed, or at least I tried. It was the she-elf who actually offered aid. She had a bit of kingsfoil on her person and apparently that did it.”

“It did,” Jasna smiled at him, “for it is a wonderful herb. And it was quick thinking on her b-b-behalf to use it."

“Miss Stoneham!” Balin smiled. “It’s good to see you come out of the infirmary finally. We wondered if Óin was afraid you’d run if he let you out.”

She shook her head. “I’d do no such thing. I’ll stay as long as he will have me.”

“Or possibly longer,” Thorin said, to her surprise. But before she could say anything, he led her around to the two empty chairs between Dís and Dwalin, and pulled one out. “Please, Miss Stoneham, sit and have some wine and enjoy your rare evening off.”

“I almost f-f-feel guilty,” she admitted sinking into the chair. 

“You needn’t.” He sank into the chair beside her, between her and Dwalin. “We all know how hard you’ve been working since you came here.”

“It’s been a f-f-f-far cry from what I’m u-u-u-used to. But, I’m glad I was able to h-h-help in any way.” 

She settled back as Thorin filled her goblet and after those initial, curious stares, the conversation resumed around her. She was just as happy to listen to the others rather than try to join in, because she knew she’d only end up with her tongue tied in knots and everyone looking at her the way Ormir did.

Throughout the meal, Jasna had the feeling she was being watched and more than once, she looked over at the hobbit, who quickly averted his gaze. And while he was friendly enough, he wasn’t overly welcoming and she had the distinct feeling he was jealous of her, of the attention Thorin seemed to be paying to her as dinner wore on, as Thorin made certain to include her in the conversation whenever he could and it seemed he used every reason he could think of to brush her hand with his. 

After dinner, he leaned over and murmured, “Walk with me?”

“To where?”

“I don’t quite know yet.” He pushed his chair back. “But, I’ll figure it out as we go.”

She smiled. What would Mama say, if she saw this, if she saw her only daughter strolling arm in arm with the King Under the Mountain? Would Jasna be in for a lecture on allowing herself to be alone with him? Or would Mama warn her to not let her hopes grow too great, for she was not a dwarf and the time would come when she would be asked to leave Erebor? 

She didn't want to think about that. Over the last few years, she’d known so much unhappiness, she didn't want anything to mar this moment, and as Thorin led her toward the doorway leading further into Erebor, she glanced over at him. His was such a strong, handsome profile, she couldn’t help but wonder—and not for the first time—how it was no maiden had snapped him up. How was that even possible? 

He led her out to the main staircase and carefully made his way down to the landing overlooking the treasure hoard. He set the cane against the railing, then leaned against it with a low sigh.

“Does s-s-something t-t-trouble you?”

“No more than usual,” he replied without turning around. 

“Then what is it?”

Now he glanced over at her. “What happened earlier? You looked upset when I came to find you.”

Heat climbed into her cheeks and she let both hands come to rest on the cool stone railing. “I’d r-r-rather n-n-not speak of it. If y-y-you don’t mind.��

“Jasna,” he turned to her, one elbow braced on the railing, “tell me what happened.”

His voice was low and soft, but brooked no argument. Still, embarrassment swirled through her as she stared out across the sea of gold and silver, and gemstones that all either glinted or sparkled in the torchlight. How did she even begin to explain how horrible Ormir’s insults made her feel? How it brought back every last taunt she’d ever been subjected to? He couldn’t possible understand. He was Thorin Durin. A prince, then a king. He was handsome and strong and brave and when he spoke, people listened to him, they respected him. They loved him.

He didn’t sound like an idiot. 

“Please,” she whispered, shaking her head, “do n-n-not make me answer that.”

He didn't say anything at first. Then, he pushed away from the railing with a sigh and her stomach twisted as she waited for him to declare he would see her back to her chambers instead.

But, he only moved to come up behind her, easing his arms about her. Her eyes closed as his warmth engulfed her, as he tugged her back against him and pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Tell me, mesmel,” he whispered.

Her eyes closed. She pressed her lips together as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Jasna,” his voice was barely a whisper, “what happened?”

“The s-s-same thing th-th-that always happens.” Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes stinging with tears. “And I h-h-h-h-hate it. But there’s n-n-nothing I c-c-can d-d-do about it.”

“Who?”

“Does it m-m-m-matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?”

“Because it matters.”

She slowly turned toward him. His eyes were dark, glittering with annoyance. “It’s n-n-nothing new.”

“As if that makes it better?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t, you know. So please, tell me who it was.”

“One of the Iron Hills dwarves. Ormir.”

“I will have a word with him come the morning.”

“No, pl-pl-please don’t.”

“Jasna, I—”

“I cannot l-l-let you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but just arched one heavy brow. Then, with what seemed like all the incredulousness he could muster, he said, “You cannot let me?”

The heat of idiocy burned through her as she realized her mistake. “I—that is, y-y-y-you—“

“I do not answer to you, you know.”

“Th-Thorin… I b-b-b-beg your pardon. I did not mean to—”

He caught her face in his hands, tilting it up toward his. His thumbs swept gently along her cheeks. “I will not allow anyone to mock you, Jasna. I care not who they are.”

“I am used to it.”

“I do not care.”

He bent to her then, his lips soft and tender as they pressed lightly against hers. They moved against hers, slow, teasing, the tip of his tongue nudging between them. She parted her lips, caught him by the wrists as his tongue slid slowly along hers. It sent a delicious heat streaking through her, one that grew and swirled through her veins with her blood. Her head spun from the heady pleasure in his deepening kiss, small knots twisting deep within her. 

She melted against him, needing to feel his solid body pressed against hers. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, curiosity mingling with arousal to have her sliding her hands up his forearms, along his upper arms. She wound her arms about his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair, which was far softer and much silkier than she would have guessed. Her fingers slid through the loose curls, twisted into them, tugged ever so gently if it seemed he tried to pull away.

But he did no such thing. He released her face to slip his arms about her waist, one hand sliding up over her back, the other curving down over her bottom. He clasped that cheek, pulled her hard against him as he’d done in the courtyard the night before. 

He broke the kiss, then brushed his lips along her jaw, over her ear, and whispered, “Come along. There is more to see than this hall.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll see.”

As they moved deeper into Erebor, the air grew cooler. Jasna hugged Thorin’s arm tighter. “Wh-where are we going?”

“There’s something I wish to share with you,” he replied, glancing down at her. 

“What?”

“This.” 

They rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and Jasna’s eyes almost bugged from their sockets as she stared down at the solid gold floor in the middle of the room. “What is this…?”

“It was the Gallery of Kings.” He pulled away from her and stumped out onto the shimmering floor. “When we were trying to retake Erebor, trying to defeat Smaug, our plan was to drown him in gold. To let what he coveted so badly become the thing that killed him.”

As he spoke, he gestured to the far wall, where she saw a cracked and crumbling pedestal with nothing upon it. “My grandfather, Thrór, was sacrificed, for all the good it did.”

She carefully stepped out onto the floor. At first glance, it almost looked liquid and fluid, as if she’d sink like a stone the moment she breached the surface. But, of course, she did no such thing. “And it didn't work.”

“It didn't work. But, by then, it was too late. I was already falling under the hoard’s curse. A dragon slept on that gold for a century and a half. To say it was tainted would be an understatement.”

She looked over at him. He stared down at the gold, shaking his head as if disgusted by his own memories. A low sigh rose to his lips and when he looked back up at her, regret flooded his beautiful blue eyes. “I was perfectly willing to sacrifice the hobbit. My own kin.” He met her gaze. “The people of Esgaroth. You were all fair game, because what is in this mountain was mine. It was my birthright. I owed nobody a bloody thing.”

“I understand dragon sickness,” she told him, shaking her head. “You didn’t choose to be ill, Thorin. No more than I chose to have this blasted stammer.”

“I didn't choose it,” he murmured, also shaking his head, “but that doesn’t absolve me of the guilt. It doesn’t change how I am responsible for my decisions. For my terrible decisions and selfish blindness. You should hate me, Jasna. The last thing you should have agreed to do was come here and save my sorry hide.”

“Why? I just t-t-told you, I understand the illness. And it is an illness, you know.”

“I lied to your people.” He met her gaze once more. “I looked all of you in the eyes and lied. I knew before we even left Esgaroth, I would not uphold my end of the bargain. Why should I? This is, as I said, my birthright. Why should I give it to anyone?”

“Thorin.”

“Do not tell me you understand. I’m not even certain I understand it. Why did you agree to help Óin? Why did you think to come and help the very people responsible for all you lost?”

“Because I wanted to continue my training.” She shrugged, then offered up a slight smile at his incredulous look. “What? Did y-y-you think I’d g-g-give you a n-n-noble reason? My actions were j-j-just as selfish as yours. I wanted to complete my training. You, Fíli, Kíli—y-you w-w-were but just a m-means to an end.”

He just stared at her for a long moment and she wondered if perhaps she’d said too much, that perhaps she should have offered up the noble reason, even if it was a fairy’s tale. 

“Jasna?”

“What? I did. And I admit, I was angry with you, with your company, for what happened. At least, I was at first.” She glanced back at the empty pedestal, at the other, smaller statues on smaller, still crumbling pedestals, before looking back at him. His eyes narrowed slightly, his forehead furrowed and without thinking, she moved closer and caught him by the hand. “But, then I came to know you. And y-you were no longer the gr-gr-greedy dwarves we’d been told you were. And when I s-s-s-see what this city, what your kingdom and your people mean to you. And what you m-m-mean to your people… I’m glad I could help.”

His fingers tightened about hers. “I am, too, Jasna. And not only because it meant I didn’t die out on that floe. I’ve a second chance to make things right now, and I plan to do just that.”

“I know.” She smiled. “And that’s how I know I made the r-r-right decision.” 

His thumb grazed hers. “I’m glad you’re here. And I don’t mean here, as in Erebor. I mean here, as in right here, with me, at this moment.”

She met his gaze. “So am I.”

He drew her into his arms. “So, perhaps we might see where this leads?”

“I thought we already were.”

His lips hovered above hers. “Will you come with me, back to my chambers?”

She nodded. “Yes.”