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mydearlybeloathed · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! Can you do neteyam x fem!na’vi reader where they first start dating; it’s kinda awkward cuddling and kissing and it feels unnatural to the reader from not being loved on enough as a child and neteyam confronts reader saying like “do I make you feel uncomfortable?” And readers like “no im sorry I just was never showed this much affection.” And he reassures her abt, it if that makes sense!, Thank you <3

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you weren’t exactly used to the affection neteyam so easily gave you.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: neteyam sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mention of death, harsh parental figure

𝐚/𝐧: this was so fun to write. it kinda came out a bit more angsty than I intended. I hope its what you wanted :)

also i made up a na'vi word: Le'awtulant. its a combo of le'awtu (lonely) and lante (wander).

It hadn't been but a few months since Neteyam completed his rite of passage, going through each trial and coming out victorious. He was a man, the heir of Toruk Makto, and everyone had their eyes on him.

You'd completed your passage just before him, becoming an adult in the eyes of your clan, and quickly grew a reputation for being quite the hunter among the older Na'vi.

Despite what your guardian, Zet'ka, advised, you hadn't put any effort into searching for a mate out of the many young Na'vi in the clan. Thinking about it sent a rush of nerves into your belly. The most recent time Zet'ka brought it up, you'd gone quiet and stilled in the fixing of your bow.

"I'm just saying," she says, watching as your careful movements continued. "You are a beautiful woman, and you have a strong heart. You could have anyone you wanted if you stopped being so elusive."

You rolled your eyes, ears going flat against your head. Your tail flickered in annoyance, your hands not as gentle as before as you restrung your bow. "I have other things to focus on, Zet'ka."

"Like what?" Your ears twitched at the sternness in her voice.

Zet'ka was always firm, ever since you were a child, left with no parents after an accident in the Hallelujah Mountains. They'd happened upon an ikran nest full of eggs, and... it hadn't gone well.

A sharp tug on your braids had you recoiling from the woman. Zet'ka gripped your shoulder and put you back in place. "Still. Your hair is a mess, Y/N."

You sat and waited for her to finish, gripping your bow as every pull of her hands had you wincing. Zet'ka meant well, she always did, but she'd never smiled as far as you know, and raised you to be a warrior worthy to be counted Omatikaya.

It had been some time since you'd connected with the spirit tree, and you wondered if going back might do you some good. Maybe your parents would appear to you this time.

Zet'ka finished your braids by the time night had fallen, and the clan was beginning to tire from a day of work. The woman patted your shoulder before standing. "I raised you to be better than this. I raised you as a warrior, not Le'awtulant."

You flinched at the word, your hands tightening into uncomfortable fists. Lonely wanderer. Someone the clan doesn't know what to make of. A familiar outsider.

Zet'ka sighed. "You know I only want what's best for you, Y/N."

You stood and faced her with a rigid back, eyes and expression steady. "I know, Zet'ka."

She left you there, allowing you to relax under her scrutinizing eyes. Exhausted, you headed to your hammock high up in the trees overlooking the village. You'd made it halfway there when rain began to fall from the sky, causing your body to sag with the weight of the day.

With your ears flat and tail drooped, arms wrapped around yourself, you hurried for the first dry place you could think of: Olo'eyktan Jake.

It had been awkward, asking the chief for shelter from the rain. It was no secret you were one of the loners of the clan. So, he just nodded as he directed you to find his daughters' hut, just along the next branch of the large tree.

You gave him a grateful nod and headed over, rushing through the increasingly heavy rain. You thought you heard thunder in the distance, but it didn't really settle in. Because now you were standing in front of the entrance to the chief's daughters' hut, and you had no idea what to say.

Tuk and Kiri were nice. You often saw them around the village when you weren't out hunting with the others. Kiri hung out with the alien, the one they call Spider, an awful lot. Tuk could often be found making mischief anywhere she went.

But you'd never spoken to them before. Sure, you knew of each other, but only because you and Kiri used to play together as children, before your parents passed and before she clung to Spider like glue.

Pushing your hand against the flap of the hut, you peeked inside to find the sisters stoking the fire at the center of the circle room. Kiri's eyes darted to you the moment the flap came undone from where she'd tied it down. Her ears twitched curiously. "Y/N?"

You waved with an awkward smile. "Hi, Kiri. Uhm, Olo'eyktan told me to come here, since I usually stay in a hammock and... it's raining so..."

Tuk's face erupted into a bright smile. "Come on, come on."

Kiri pointed as you stepped inside. "And secure that flap."

You did as she directed and turned, fiddling with the beads around your neck. "I'm sorry to be intruding, I--"

"Don't worry," Kiri said, grinning just slightly. "We have room--"

All three of you jerked as thunder cracked against the sky. Your heart skipped as your eyes flickered over the ceiling, waiting. The rain only grew in power.

Kiri looked back at you, then at the roof. She waved you over as she sat down on the surplus of woven blankets she and Tuk had laid out. "Come 'ere. It's warmer near the center."

You wasted no time in making your way over, welcoming the warm feel of the flames as you accepted the blanket Tuk offered you. "Thanks."

The thunder returned, louder than before. Tuk flinched into Kiri's side.

Not even a second later, the flap reopened, this time letting in a gust of wind that nearly took out the fire. You and Kiri growled in unison as you whipped around to see two figures stumbling inside, bickering as they did.

"Neteyam!" Lo'ak hissed, trying to reach for the flap as it whipped around in the wind. "Close it! Close it!"

The elder Sully fell inside, literally, yelping as he tripped over his brother's feet. Tuk leaped up and ran to help, gripping onto the flap in seconds and having it tied back down and extra secure in seconds. No wind got inside after that.

The lot of you stayed in silence for a moment, before Kiri huffed and stood to swat at her brothers. "Idiots! Both of you!"

Lo'ak hissed when she slapped his arm, pursing his lips. Neteyam stood, his braids hanging over his face before he tossed them back. Both of them were soaking wet, getting water all over the floor. Neteyam caught your gaze, his heavy breathing calming as you darted your eyes away.

"What are you doing?" Kiri asked, incredulous, hands on her hips.

Neteyam turned away from you, straightening out his shoulders just for him to laugh bashfully under Kiri's stare. He rubbed at the back of his neck and shot Lo'ak a teasing grin. "Lo'ak--"

"We!" Lo'ak shouted pointedly. "We--"

"We," Neteyam continued, grinning. "Were scared."

Kiri rolled her eyes so far they could've disappeared into her skull. "Fine. Just don't fling water on me."

You couldn't help but snort at the exchange, hiding your smile behind your hand. Lo'ak noticed you then, tilting his head in question. "Y/N?"

Before you could even formulate a reply, Neteyam spoke up as he went to kneel by Kiri. "She sleeps out in the trees, Lo'ak. The storm forced her inside."

Your brows rose at that, tail flicking curiously. "Yeah, what he said."

The night dragged on, no one being able to sleep with the storm in full rage outside. Somehow, you'd been rearranged in your seats, so now you and Neteyam found yourselves side by side, some good space between you.

Though, every once in a while, his tail would brush yours, causing you to tense and wrap the excited appendage around yourself.

You didn't know how the conversation drifted to the subject of mates, but you wanted to change it very fast. But, unlike with Zet'ka, you weren't the one the teasing was directed at.

Lo'ak's eyes danced mischievously. "And then this real Cassanova--"

"Lo'ak."

"--he steps on her tail--"

"Lo'ak."

"--and says he's not interested." The younger Sully brother shook his head in amusement. "And Mom wonders why Neteyam hasn't landed a woman yet."

The man in question sits stiffly, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes narrowed at his brother. His tail brushes your side in its angry sweep across the floor. "Shut up."

Kiri rolls her eyes for what was probably the tenth time that night and scooted closer to the flames. "Leave him alone, Lo. He doesn't have to choose a mate if he doesn't want to."

Something about her words made you feel validated, and you found yourself speaking up for the first time. "If you're so concerned, Lo'ak, surely you've got your eye on someone, right? You've almost completed your passage."

Now with the attention thrown on him, Lo'ak didn't look so amused anymore. He grumbled something under his breath. "... No."

You tsked, dragging your gaze to meet Neteyam's next to you. "Ah, yeah. Too bad things with that one girl didn't work out."

Lo'ak's ears fell flat against his head. "You swore."

You ignored him, turning further to face Neteyam as his expression shifted from frustration to hilarity. "So I'm sitting up in my hammock, right?"

"Y/N."

"Just carving into some wood."

"Y/N."

"Hush. And I look down to see Lo'ak with the sweetest girl. Nali, I think." Kiri gasped, catching on, grinning from ear to ear. Lo'ak was burying himself in the blankets, probably hoping for suffocation. "He calls her pretty and gives her a flower, not listening to a word she tries to say, just for her intended to jump out and shove him away."

The laugh that escapes Neteyam is a hearty sound, light and easy on the ears. Tuk and Kiri laughed too, but you really only heard him. The sound made it difficult to look away from him, but you managed, if only to see the mess that was Lo'ak. From somewhere amidst his blanket tomb, he raised his middle finger.

Lifting your own three-fingered hand, you push down your first two digits and hold up the third. You stare at the gesture as Lo'ak emerges to find you squinting at your hands. "I don't understand your four-fingered gesture."

Your response only sent the other four into a fit of laughter that had you confused, but giggling along with them all the same. By morning, you were sad to see the storm fading, having had too much fun just talking with the Sully kids.

It'd been too long since you'd let yourself relax like that, you realized.

You thought that things would go back to normal, and you would stick to yourself like you always had, only talking to the others in your hunting party and Zet'ka on occasion, but you were very wrong.

Months went by where a day hadn't ended till at least one of the Sully kids had found you, wherever you were hiding that day. Sometimes it was Tuk who needed someone to force her siblings to let her tag along with them. Or Neteyam wanted to hunt with her. Other days Lo'ak invited her to explore with Kiri and Spider. Neteyam would ask to fly on the ikran together. Kiri would beg you to join in her healing lessons, hoping your presence would force away the boredom. Neteyam just wanted to talk sometimes. A lot of the time he just wanted to talk, or fly, or hunt, or just about anything of the like.

It made you blush to think about it.

The name Neteyam became as easy as breathing. You actively searched him out in a crowd, finding his eyes already having found you. You hadn't ever laughed as much as he made you laugh, smiled as much as he made you smile.

Soon enough, you couldn't deny the growing tension festering between you and the elder Sully brother. You couldn't deny it, not in your heart, but you could avoid it just fine.

That's what you were doing now as you stormed through the dense forest, paying no mind to the man trailing in your wake. Your heart beat more wildly in your chest each time he said your name.

"Y/N," he called, trying to reach for your hand. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing!" You exasperated, finally turning and throwing your hands up. "You've done nothing."

He didn't look convinced. "Then why," he demanded, "are you actively running away from me." Your tail swished defensively at that. "All I asked was if you wanted to stay with Kiri again. Rain clouds are rolling in."

In the quiet that followed, all you could do with cross your arms and look somewhere behind him, almost haughty when you said, "You make a good point, and I'm choosing to ignore it."

Neteyam cracked a grin, taking a step closer to you. You stood and watched, your ears darting forward at the sound of a twig underfoot. "Are you upset with me?"

Though he smiled, the question in his eyes was desperate. He was desperate to fix anything he had done. It sent you into a tizzy of slight guilt and the urge to assure him he was nothing but perfect in your eyes. Your cheeks warmed at the sudden thought.

"No," you said with a sigh, your arms dropping to your sides. "I appreciate your concern, Neteyam. I think I'll see if Zet'ka will let me in. I don't want to burden your sisters--"

"You're kidding, right?" He was almost laughing at you now. "They love you. Kiri was the one who wanted me to ask, actually."

Your tail wriggled excitedly. "She did?"

He nodded, tilting his head as his braids fell over his shoulder with the movement. Then, his expression wasn't so humorous, thoughts racing behind his eyes. "Is it so hard to believe?"

You turned away from him, starting to continue your walk, pushing a large leaf out of your way. "Maybe."

In seconds he was walking at your side, his eyes on your profile. "Well, believe it. All three of them speak only highly of you."

"And you?" The words were out before you could stop them. Wincing, you made another turn, hopping over a fallen log.

His brief silence made your embarrassment worsen, but it was quickly--very quickly--replaced with a panicked jump of your heart. "A day has not ended till Lo'ak tells me to shut up about you."

Your hand froze in its path of pushing down a loose tree branch. Shaking your head, you surged on through the forest. Neteyam noticed the tension in your whole body; how your tail was alert and your back too properly straight.

Thoughts scrambled around your head up until you stopped at the bank of a river gently cutting across the forest floor. When you sensed Neteyam at your shoulder, you turned your face away from him, saying softly, "I have no one to speak to, but if I did, I'd speak only of you."

Hesitantly, Neteyam's hand found your wrist, gently sliding down to intertwine your fingers. You sucked in a sharp breath, not daring to look at him. The feel of his hand on yours, the way his soft exhale fanned your neck, it was almost too much.

Closing your eyes, you evened out your breathing. "You make me crazy."

"Funny," he whispered. "I think I was crazy till I got to know you."

You grinned despite yourself, recalling that little boy who used to tug on your tail just to make you angry. "You were."

"Look at me." You faltered at the words, not so much a command, but a delicately toned question. "Please."

Without so much as a pause, you'd turned, hand adjusting in his, and met his eyes that burned right into you. How long had it been since you'd befriended him? Three months? Four? It felt like a lifetime. You'd always known him, in your mind, known him as well as you knew yourself.

You knew his favorite hunting spot, the way he liked to string his bow, how he braided his hair. You think you'd memorized each stripe on his body with the way you so often gazed at his toned muscles.

It was terrifying, but Neteyam had fought his way into your heart, no matter how much you tried to force him out.

"You don't have to be so guarded... I See you, Y/N."

His hand moved to cup your face, drawing you out of your thoughts. You flinched away, surprised, suddenly stepping out of his reach. Your arms wrapped around you, shivering though the air wasn't cold. You refused to look at him again.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping further away from you. "I didn't... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's..." You sighed, frustrated with words and how they so often escape you. With a hand to your temple, you glance up at him, praying that Eywa will give you the right things to say. "You know what they call me."

Neteyam nodded. "I do." He ducked his head to catch your eyes when you returned them to the ground. "I don't care what they say."

"Neither do I," you snap. A sigh leaves you. "But they're right. I'm... not used to this."

He looks confused as you gesture at the space between you. "Used to what?"

"This! You." Your gaze interlocks with his. Your veins tingled, the forest around you seeming to still as Eywa answered with a supply of just the right words. "How kind you are to me. How much I care for you. How easily you just say things and mean them. I'm jealous."

Your heart was quick and your eyes were like a fire bearing your innermost thoughts in its tendrils. "And I'm scared. You will grow tired of me. A Le'awtulant is not a Tsahik."

In an instant his brows were drawn and his lips curved down into a scowl. "Don't call yourself that."

Ears flat against his head, he steps closer, leaving just enough room between the two of you. "You are Y/N. Not what they say you are. Not what Zet'ka says you are."

Never had you felt so see-through as his fangs bared at the sound of your guardian's name. Was her coldness so obvious, or was it the way you cowered from her, how you clung to her every word?

Either way, you felt a burn in your throat as Neteyam stepped closer still, yet not enough. "You are you, not a cruel label." His hand extended, palm up, his eyes losing the ferocity just enough for you to feel his sincerity.

"You are Y/N, and I See you." He watched you stare at his hand, silently begging you to believe what he was saying "You won't ever have to wander again, if you'll have me."

Swift, your hand slipped into his, and your body collided with his. You left his hand and wrapped your arms around his middle before you could lose your nerve. Cringing, you waited.

His touch was featherlight as he embraced you tightly. Your face relaxed as your temple rested on his shoulder and his own leaned against your head. A shiver ran up your spine as his tail wound around your leg, yours in turn brushing along his thigh instinctively.

So softly you feared he might actually hear you, you spoke, "I See you, Neteyam."

He pulled back, his movements slow, and touched his forehead to yours. A barely there smile rose to his face, and soon a matching one appeared on yours. Rain started to trickle down through the trees, sending the two of you into soft laughter.

You hadn't mated that evening. Neither of you were too eager to grow up too much too fast. For now, things were gradual, and just slightly more obvious to all those around.

If someone wanted to find Y/N, they were directed to find Neteyam. If someone was in search of Neteyam, they should find Y/N. You knew the whispers, and so did he. The future Olo'eyktan with a Le'awtulant? The both of you happily ignored everything anyone had to say about the matter.

Jake was shocked. He recalled how his jaw fell slack as he watched the pair of you from across the hunting party's bonfire. His son left a swift kiss on your cheek, and you shied away with a gentle smile, reaching to take his hand as your tails twinned together.

He was happy, just shocked. He always took you for the celibate type, so to speak.

Neytiri wasn't so surprised. She had a keen eye and even sharper ears. The mother saw how his son gazed at you with an air of fondness and longing. She noticed how your eyes always lingered on him a little longer than needed.

She knew it was only a matter of time before tensions and stares came to fruition.

As for Zet'ka, she never addressed it outright. But you could see from her approving glances and subtle nods that she was happy for you, or as happy as such a woman could be.

Time moved on, and each slight touch from your lover didn't elicit an awkward flick of your ears as often. After some time, it was you who reached up to kiss his face, littering featherlight touches to his jaw and brow and eyes--and then his lips.

You would tug on the end of his tail as you walked past him. You only giggled when he whipped around, fangs bared in a hiss, only for his whole face to soften at the sound of your laugh.

Mo'at promptly swept you under her metaphorical wing, saying her grandson's mate would have to know a thing or two about healing. If you were to be Tsahik one day, she told you, you'd have to know the job.

You felt honored each time she said something like that.

Slowly, as each day drew on, you found yourself being brought into the Sully family whether you liked it or not (you liked it more than you would admit).

Every night--the one's that weren't marked by a rainshower--you and Neteyam climbed up through the branches of the trees, up to the hammock you used to call home, but now called just a place, where you slept in the arms of your beloved.

The people who called you the name you didn't care to remind yourself of fell few and far between, till no one could remember the Le'awtulant of Omaticaya, and only knew Y/N, most likely to be Neteyam's Tsahik.

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fernclans · 11 months ago

Text

MOON 07. (part 2) (tw; blood, mentions of trauma, descriptions of injury, death??? )

Starring: Dashpaw (BuddingClan), Cliffstripe (BuddingClan), Amberpaw (BuddingClan), Flippaw (BuddingClan)

Dashpaw paced the camp back and forth, tail twitching anxiously behind him. In a small dip within the earth, Amberpaw lay crowded in a nest with three kittens resting beside her, relishing in her warmth. Beyond them, the moon crept slowly over the rolling hills tauntingly reminding the group of the passage of time.

“You’ll tread a hole into the ground if you keep that up all night.” Amberpaw chided playfully, concern showing in her eyes. “I’m worried about her too, but you won't be able to go with Cliffstripe and look for her if you wear yourself out here.”

Dashpaw grumbles something under his breath while he finishes another lap. He knows that she’s right; all he was doing was tiring himself out, even now he could feel his limbs begging for a break. He’d been up and moving since before sunfall, and if he had it his way he’d not stop until way after moonhigh and Flippaw was home.

“What was that?” The long-furred molly could tell by the way the tomcat stopped in his tracks that he was starting to take her words to mind.

“I said ‘yes Amberstar, whatever you say.’” He heaves a dramatic sigh while he turns around again to face her, lugging himself to the grass nearby and collapsing into it. “Better?” His eyes creep open just enough to watch the molly roll her eyes before finally allowing the smile to join him.

Cliffstripe seemed to have taken notice from his perch atop the Echoed Stones and descends from its vantage; though it was unlikely Flippaw would be finding her way home that night, it was even more unlikely that he himself would do the same after he’d been caught in the jaws of the beast, and so he took up watch once the kits had settled.

“They’re too young to talk, right?” The ginger tom asks, sitting down beside Dashpaw and looking at the litter nestled within Amberpaw’s fur. “Do they understand… you know.” In spite of being the eldest, Cliffstripe knew the least about kits, not having interacted with them much before taking up their care after the pack.

“That their parent is dead?” Dashpaw meows bluntly, saying what Cliffstripe felt unable to. He apparently notices the uneasy expressions of his clanmates and turns away from them. “What? We’re orphans too. Better to just be honest about it.”

There’s silence for a moment before Amberpaw speaks again. “No, you’re right. And no, I don’t think they understand- not really. I think they’re confused that their parent isn’t here, but I don’t think they realize they won't be coming back.” She frowns, amber gaze casting towards the three kittens dozing peacefully within her plumed tail.

Cliffstripe hangs on the uncomfortable silence before turning away from the kits and to Dashpaw. “You said you were in the outer-fields when you were attacked-- do you remember what direction Flippaw ran?”

Dashpaw furrows his brow, thinking hard before answering. “West. Towards the mountains.”

“Right. So we’ll head north-west from camp and start our search there.” Getting to his paws, Cliffstripe leans forward and stretches with his whole body. “In that case, I think it’s time we head out, don’t you?”

The brown and white tabby pulls himself from the cool grass and flexes his claws into the dirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

---

The night's chill sliced at the two cats' fur as they ran, the clear open sky above them allowed for the cosmos to illuminate the fields; something Dashpaw hoped was a good omen from StarClan.

With the wind carried a stale scent of blood and wolf, a stark reminder of their mission’s severity. Was Flippaw still alive? Could she have escaped a wolf all by herself? The task seemed to require a lion’s strength, but perhaps a cat’s cunning could be enough if she played her cards correctly.

Wordlessly, the toms followed the wolf's stench, the hair on their backs raising the stronger it grew. When Dashpaw looks to Cliffstripe, he can’t help but find himself reassured by the determined expression which remained on his scarred face. If he who had seen the beast's maw so intimately could be so resolute, so sure they were doing this right, then who was he to act otherwise.

“Stay low,” Cliffstripe meowed, dropping his elbows and strutting forward in a confident creep like a cat in the pursuit of a bird unaware. “Wolves are much taller than us, they can see farther in the tall grass than we can. The closer to the ground we can stay, the safer we’ll be.”

Dashpaw follows suit, his brow heavy in concentration. “You don’t think it’s still nearby, do you?”

“I… I don’t think so, but we can’t be too safe.”

When a more fresh scent of blood started to overtake the old scent of wolf, Dashpaw could feel his heart quicken. It felt like there was a bird fluttering in his chest, his mind running wild with different horrific conjurations of what fate may have befallen Flippaw. Flashes of memories of biting through a rabbit's bone, the snap nearly making his stomach twist; memories he tried to bury of the masses of graves he and Cliffstripe had to dig for what scraps remained of their families.

He must have been away for a while, nearly walking past Cliffstripe, not realizing that the tabby had tried to stop him, to talk to him.

“Dashpaw, are you alright? You don’t have to-”

The brown and white tom is still for a moment longer than should be normal before forcing out a smile. “I’m okay.” He doesn’t dwell any longer on the moment, creeping quickly past the warrior. Cliffstripe doesn’t look like he believes him, but that doesn't matter right now. “C’mon, I think we’re close.”

Conifers loomed in the horizon, just barely visible against the darkness of the sky. The scent of blood laced with the distant perfume of the pine needles, it seemed almost a regular pattern at this point; all too familiar of the night he’d nearly been gored by only StarClan knows who. The wolf scent was strongest here, but from the best that either cat could judge, it had to be at least a few hours old.

It was small, but in the distance something catches Dashpaw’s eye; light glinting off of a reflective surface -- cautiously approaching, he confirms his grim suspicions. Blood.

“Cliffstripe, come this way!” His voice comes out as a hiss, claws tearing into the dirt, rushing to find the source. He can’t be too late.

The trail of blood lead to a larger, semi-congealed pool outside of a small burrow; one much too small for a wolf to be hiding in. Peering into the gap in the earth, Dashpaw feels his heart stop briefly when his eyes focus on what was within -- a small spotted apprentice curled up within herself, bloodied soil surrounding her. Cliffstripe freezes when he sees her too, only to heave a heavy sigh of relief when he notices her sides rise and fall with her breath.

“Oh thank StarClan… you’re still alive.” Dashpaw nearly collides with the dirt beneath him, finally feeling the fatigue of today.

A groan comes from the figure within the burrow, pale blue eyes coming to life when they land on what lay outside -- her clanmates had found her. “I remembered what you said… about the tunnel systems and the dens when I was a kit.” Flippaw’s voice is hoarse, and she’s hardly able to keep her eyes focused while she speaks.

“Are you able to get out on your own?” Cliffstripe asks, unsure of his ability to squeeze in there with her and still be able to pull her out.

“Think so.” Unfurling herself, the ginger tabby warrior nearly flinches at the sight of Flippaw’s right forearm. It was broken, there was no doubt about it, large punctures covering its entirety. She lets it hang limply, using her remaining arm to pull herself and leaving most of the work to her hind legs.

Cliffstripe waits to the side of the entrance, waiting to grab Flippaw’s scruff to pull her the rest of the way. By the time she’s fully out of the burrow, she’s passed out again from shock.

Dashpaw’s steps are unsteady on the walk home, and though he jokes about Cliffstripe needing to carry him as well and seems over-all jovial, the older tom can tell something was bothering him. Jaws full of scruff, he’s unable to reach out leaving the two ruminating about the day until they get back to camp.

END OF MOON 7.

WE DID IT FOLKS. WE MADE IT. thank you for sticking around <33 next is asks!! feel free to send asks to Cliffstripe, Amberpaw, Dashpaw, or Flippaw! moon 8 event will start after a bit of those :3

#moon 7 #buddingclan #buddingclangen #clangen #clan generator #warrior cats oc #cliffstripe #dashpaw #amberpaw #flippaw

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lindalofbroome · 9 months ago

Text

original sketches

DELTORA FASHION CONCEPT ART V2

hello i have finally coloured some rough sketches of some deltoran fashions, a redraw of some really old sketches from ages ago.

im a pretty amateur concept artists and i hate designing clothes so truly was a challenge for me hahah BUT it has given me plenty of time to think of headcanons. im not sure what i've already posted about or not so im just gonna go ahead and rant

these characters were originally just models for me to draw the clothes on, so i didn't need to draw a new person every time; although in some of my earliest sketches of different people groups i did a bunch of people. but naturally these characters have developed a little and some of them are my beloved adin-era OCs <3

[about 4,500 words]

⬜ JALIS

since the jalis are reknowned for their warrior prowess and their signature gold armour, i thought it'd be neat that even if when they're not wearing the full set, they are always wearing their arm guards. it's a sense of pride and identity, they probably receive them as a rite of passage into adulthood. not every jalis is a knight, but they value a heart of courage and great feats and they all have them, and would wear them always (or at least special occasions if one prefers not).

i headcanon that jasmine was gifted her own set of arm guards as an expression of their respect and admiration of her. her relationship with glock grew so much and was cut off, but she earned her "heart of a jalis" and we didnt get to see much of jasmine and gers together, but theres plenty of time post-DQ3. i think my jasmine and the jalis thoughts should be a separate post though, otherwise this post will never end 😂

i dont imagine that the jalis had special party clothes, i think they just turn up in their usual clothes and get drunk and dance their hearts out maybe start a brawl thats none of my business

i cant remember why i've been giving them this geometric sort of pattern tbh. i think i drew someone at some point and wanted it to look different to mcbride's design but im not sure if i like it or not. the plus is that i can make diamond motifs though!!

i also cant really remember how my brown skin gold hair came to be 🤔🤔 wait backtracking i think what happened is that i decided to draw del people as black latinx inspired, so it wasn't that big a step to make jalis also dark skinned since they're both in the south (deltora geography is weird tho so like it's not that deep) and then i think i made them blonde as i "why not??" situation but tHEN i thought maybe it's connected to their jalis gold?

my headcanon is that their armour is made of a unique metal that can only be found in diamond territory, it's super hard, tough, and light etc. so maybe whatever is In The Ground is also in them and their blood and shows in their hair????

🥳 fun fact 🥳 wasn't until i had to draw steven and glock side by side that i had realised what i'd done?? i.e. steven canonically has brown skin gold hair too¹. which now forces me to think about whether it should be a coincidence (like it is) or shall i headcanon that steven and nevets' father was jalis² 🤔 ¹ pretty sure it's about the dichotomy, to show contrast but connection between the brothers. i have many steven and nevets thoughts but that should also be another post ² i am.

🟩 DREAD GNOMES

these characters are adin-era, so unfortunately this would be when the gnomes still hunt the kin. whats weird is that i realised that i was picturing the caramelly brown fabric that this gnome is wearing was the kin pelt and not the big furry parts?? i usually picture the kin as more like velvetty. idk what the thicker fur parts would be though?? literally any other animal i guess 😅 i dont know it doesn't make sense and it's only occurring to me right now i shall have to think about it lmao

anyway made them green because why not. maybe they come in different colours idk. this gnome is pre-gellick so does go out in the sun, gellick-era gnomes would be waaaaay more paler they probably looked white. this could be similar to the jalis and like theres something in the grounddd

gla-thon claims that the dread gnomes knew that lesser gems had weaker but the same powers of the great talisman gems (sots), but im not sure if they knew it before adin. would be interesting if they did 🤔 and how they figured it out?? (side note but now im wondering about how withick knew what to write about the gems??) would imply that if they got the great emerald than they could deduce there are others surely. unless they thought it was a freak accident/miracle. anyway we know they love gems and gold etc etc so they obviously decorate themselves with heaps of jewellery

triangle motifs in homage to their mountain 💚

i gave them a sort of war paint ritual. i'm not sure if they all do the same markings, but this one was specifically to symbolise a bow and arrow (arrow going up the nose). you can see it a bit better here lol. i also decided that sometimes they wear it for purely cosmetic purposes. im not sure what the substance is exactly though. i think in my head i was imagining something similar to kohl, but maybe not.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 bre-tak and az-zure are lesbians (i make the rules)

🟦 MERE

oooooh baby this is my guy my babygirl my everything

okay so i think this headcanon developed recently when i last drew sky of rithmere and i thought that mere superstition encouraged them to wear their charms in random spots to avoid them cancelling each other out. it could be construed to be they were inspired by the night sky and the pattern of the stars perhaps. this led them to prefer asymmetrical fashions, mostly prominent in the armour i put badr in

🥳 fun fact 🥳 badr means "full moon" 👀

i think i originally decided the mere had leather armour just to give them something different iirc but the mere characters we see are usually the lithe, speedy, crafty type, so maybe light, mobile armour does work for them lol. anyway the main reason is that i had the image of studded leather, and i was like ohohoho STARS

i generally think of them with muted colours but sometimes they have a bold blue for their prized garmants. like zillah and co, the leaders of rithmere in adin's time were described with bright blue and starry cloaks. (i checked the wiki just to check zillah's name lol and apparently it's actually canon they have leather armour?? so not sure why i thought otherwise) anyway i do currently have minecraft brain but i did vaguely remember that people made ultramarine pigment from grinding lapis lazuli into a powder and im not sure if thats something the mere would do or if there's some strong blue dyes they can get from plants or something native to their territory 🤔

actually im liking that idea now? it would be incredibly time-consuming and labour-intensive but that would add to its value?? real world lapis lazuli has a horrible yield rate of 1kg lapis to 30g of pigment apparently, but it's a strong pigment (unless i misunderstand). alternative name for ultramarine is "permanent blue" apparently so. anyway ultramarine irl is more of a paint pigment, but in roddaverse maybe the mere make a lucky blue dye to use on cloaks and scarfs and shawls etc for good fortune?? me frantically checking that i put badr and luisa's wedding garb in bold blue lmAO oh i did but it's a little muted. they mix in oils and stuff to make the paint, so it doesnt seem like a stretch that they can mix different ingredients or ratio to make a cloth dye (to my very amateur understanding).

so im imagining now that they have a special (probably secret within the mere) process to create bright blue thread speckled with white (also gold to me. im pro deltora lapis with gold) and weave it into their beautiful starry night fabric. the amount of labour and the use of their prized lapis lazuli makes it very special, and maybe some people think it's the lapis that makes the fabric lucky or maybe some people think it's the work of love and time that makes it lucky, maybe both.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i forgot that "bless your lucky stars" is like a real saying until recently lol

a starry cloak is probably something only the really rich could afford, but i think that they are more like heirlooms and states of office? im not sure if these pieces are things that one would purchase or something they would receive. bit hard to imagine people doing it for free but maybe it's one of those staple things that they revere and everyone else works to support them as well etc like the cooks in noradz are prized. idk. but yeah like a poorer family couldn't get a new one, but they would have one that has been in their family for generations you know? and i think that there would be something about like. idk youre meeting up with your doctor or something and youre nervous and you put on your family's best clothes (the most lucky ones) and maybe youre cynical about the whole good fortune stuff but there's something comforting about wearing the cloak your mother wore and your grandmother and your great grandmother wore, who also had to do such things. something something gives you the confidence to make your own luck because youre no longer pessimistic and allowing avoidable mistakes to happen

this means that the mere giving adin a cloak was a REALLY big deal because they definitely dont just go throwing those around and they would probably only give it to an outsider in trade for a steeeeeeeeeeeep price. which of course means that there would be knock offs with bad quality dye. lmao thats perfect actually. like 10000% there would be merchants in rithmere trying to sell cheaper versions to people that are expensive but still affordable to the average person. some would be different shades of blue, but the more crafty might have dyes that are strong but not lasting.

oh also i headcanon that palace fashion was a conglomerate of aspects from all the tribes but this should be it's own post i think. but i just remembered that i put gold thread in badr's braids in the formal wear sketch. i did that to tie in with the veins/flecks of gold (technically pyrite) in irl lapis lazuli. as such, people at del palace were inspired to weave gold into their hair too.

also gives me another thing to ship badr and luisa lmao. badr can wear some gold and luisa can wear some blue as a treat for me <3 moon and stars ocs beloved

🟨 DEL

alright. okay so del is definitely very white western patriarchal coded (most just a bias of living in that type of society i reckon) but it sucks and i'm passionate about making del NOT that. i think i've said this a million times now but this should be it's own post too, but most succinctly del is a very vibrant, curious, and daring sort of culture (e.g. their recklessness, exploration, trading). they were already marrying non-deltorans before adin (i imagine that some might have dared to marry outside of del, but it would have been way more politically complex so it was rarer and often kept quiet and rural). people of del were moving to other countries (like dorne) and people were probably moving to del, so del is definitely a big mix of different people and languages and superstitions and stuff.

but anyway i wanted to set a sort of base for before that. i've had art on the wip pile for YEARS about this and i'd flesh this out properly when it's done lol (hopefully we see that day) but since the topaz has the power to summon spirits, i really wanted to develop an aspect of del culture around that? i was inspired by Día De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and i still want to do some more in depth research and explore it more properly, but i like the idea that del will celebrate their lost loved ones life, coming together to remember, if they were lucky the got to see and even talk to their spirits. maybe pre-talisman they did know about topaz properties and they had a big deposit of gems that they would wheel out for the festival and the huge pile under the full moon would be enough to allow the spirits and people to interact? anyway this is a longwinded explanation of why my sketches of del fashion could be latinx inspired.

circle motifs in homage to the moon. the trim decoration on luisa's scabbards are based on moon phases :D

i also arbitrarily decided that del people love swishy clothes. they're all about the drama of cloaks and twirling in sundresses etc it's fun. not sure if i will actually follow through with that lol or maybe that can just be luisa.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i think hearing luisa laugh would heal me

there's no particular reason for why i've been drawing a lot of del people as black, other than maybe spite lol. i think i drew jasmine and that got the ball rolling. del is a blank enough slate that they can be anything. im tired of white people being the front runners asldkjfhalsdf. bUT again del is multicultural, so there isn't a particular look for anyone in del. being del is more a state of mind and being part of community i think. you move to del and you participate in their society in one way or another and boom youre del now they adopted you.

🌈 PLAINS

hiran attire inspired by french aristocratic fashion. i cant remember who posted about it but pretty sure this was something that circulated around the fandom at least a little bit at some point.

added some subtle rainbow to harlow's outfits because he's the strong silent type. but i suppose there are so much more gaudier and extravagant outfits.

i was going to say this was just hira fashion and not like, rural plains fashion but i guess this is the same for all of them. it's just like a general direction for what someone might wear.

the swirly patterns?? i dont know. i drew them when i did adin's pre-battle speech as the last supper but i dont think there's a particular reason. i remember that i was trying to do something unique because lief recognises the cup in the city of rats as the same/similar to the one in noradz, so there had to be something to be recognisable lol but i probably just did it this way because it's relatively easy to doodle, just takes a bit of time.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 harlow was a cook before the shadow invasion. out of desperation, he and many others had to train to defend hira. he's big with natural balance and reflexes so he excelled and is a pretty adept warrior, but he will always think of himself as a cook first, warrior second.

now the armour!! freshest headcanon piping hot. yesterday when i was colouring i was sitting there like wow you look like a tin can man and you are so boring. we went from pretty colours to blank. im almost certain the hiran soldiers were described as silver with white plumes, so i was planning on doing that but they had intricate details on their armour because they are Extra, so it has the swirly patterns you can see on harlow's coat.

but then suddenly i was like. what if. pearlescent.

and honestly i loved it so much i didnt care i was setting myself up for some difficult work ahead lmao. but my general idea was that they're armour looked like it was silver, but if the light catches it at the right angle it exposes the rainbow in it. most of these headcanons i've had baking for at least a year, but this is very new so i dont any hard details yet. kira mentioned enamel or ceramic and lowkey interested in having a look into that so that theres another armour material. maybe it's gonna be like special jalis gold and special plains silver. maybe something else. i also just remembered bismuth exists (same boat as gold as very heavy and soft) but i think maybe it's too loud, i think im liking the more subtle pearlescent thing aLTHOUGH it's a good metallic rainbow reference 👀 maybe there is an esteemed plains warrior with a rainbow sword

ANYWAY pearlescent armour really hit my heart because oh my god once upon a time the plains had a shore and they could visit the sea,,,, lowkey ocean vibes without an ocean [screaming crying cat spinning in a void.gif]

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i have NO idea what food harlow has made. i think i had ratatouille on the brain at the time????

🟥 RALADS

⚠ PROPAGANDA ALERT ⚠

ruby territory best territory. ruby symbol of happiness. warns of danger AND antidote to poison. double helpful. ralads are so sweet and so smart. architectural and engineering marvels. living in harmony with the land and beasts. D'OR!!! manus and nanion friendship underrated and so special to me. horse girls. AND. broome. god theres so much i could say about broome that i cant say anything. anyway you guys know im normal about broome yes of course. separate post etc etc

i think technically this is a headcanon but it's not that big a stretch surely but as above i always picture ralads as in harmony with nature. never take more than they need, know how to work with not against, theyre not the main attraction but an equal part of the bigger picture.. this isn't even about how smart they are with engineering and their perfectly round houses with bricks that are cut perfectly. im thinking about their knowledge of their world is so strong and wide and diverse. they have the most vibrant and potent dyes and pigments around, they have the most colourful fabrics and clothes around. the plains has many colours but it can't compete, and they have different styles. i think that the hirans would trade for the dyes though (maybe undercutting pre-adin, maybe more equal post-unification). i think that they would also have a pretty decent blue dye but it is still inferior to mere lapis lazuli blue. it is probably a dye that could be used for a mid range mere garment?

maybe it's the anime fault but i do usually imagine ralads as barefoot but i also drew iris with construction tools and just the idea of ralads walking around a construction site barefoot was not fun to me. but it could be a hobbit tough soles situation. anyway i drew some shoes so i had a vague reference if i wanted to draw ralad shoes.

obviously had a problem drawing warrior attire for a non-war race. but i thought what if i leaned into the stories the hirans tell about how the scouts and soldiers they send into the ralad wilds never returned and were often found dead with broken bones or whatnot. definitely big watching but never seen vibes imo. so i decked iris out in some camouflage lol

🥳 fun fact 🥳 im sure the ralads can whistle and whatnot to make birdcall signals, but i thought it was fun for iris to be able to make birdcalls with her flute

HEY ALSO headcanon about ralad hair. i was making some dragon art from a doran pov that i was going to save for that but i cant wait now. but we know from Tales that the ralads had a good relationship with the ruby dragons, could even summon them (unless im misremembering and it was more like a premeditated calling) but i was thinking about how they nest with .. human? hair. and i was thinking what if they grow out their hair? and then they offer it to a dragon when they are ready? i dont know if there's a nesting season for dragons but it could be something like that? ralad-dragon ceremony and party time. this isn't a rite of passage type of thing, just something that they like to do. not everyone does it probably, but most do it once, some people do it several or many times in their lifetime. it's an honour, but not really a sacrifice to them. it's part of the world balance and theyre willing to serve the dragons as the dragons serve them as they water the plants and the plants feed them and they feed beasts and beasts feed them.

also dont remember why i did the hair so bright and orangey??? genuinely perplexed lmao. probably was leaning into irl ginger but like THEYRE BLUE so i could probably make them actual red. not sure if this is also like a "theres something in the ground" situation also that makes their hair red but maybe 😂😂

side note but it's lowkey so wild to me that rodda was like yeah these guys are blue-grey with red hair, and then everyone else is like an average person, BUT the mountain people are short. like they're all just some guy basically???

it does make return to del so so funny because fallow is like AYO look at these MONSTERS they are UGLY and WEIRD

but i guess thats part of the motivation to give the deltora tribes some basic unique traits.

🟪 TORANS

okay so toran robes as inspired by japanese fashion is definitely something that's floated around the fandom for ages. i can't remember if it was before or after seeing posts about it that i started my first concept sketches but i think it probably had a hand in helping me visualise what rodda was talking about when she described their robes as butterfly wings when they speed-travelled. like yeah big deep sleeves and floor trailing hems WOULD probably look like colourful butterfly wings in the wind,,

🥳 fun fact 🥳 azami be always hungry. if only she knew someone who liked to cook 🤔

i don't have much to say design-wise, kinda just did various doodling. they would probably be second in extravagance to the plains, but it's a different sort of detail? they are probably a bit more refined and elegant than the hirans who are probably more bold in their designs. torans grow to be vain and selfish (it's already started by adin's time) so they probably have a high value on the beauty of their belongings, and it probably began with imagery of beasts and plants and dragons in amethyst territory, "true" pictures. but as time went on it probably distorted a bit and became idealised and/or fantastical etc.

OKAY SO my brain bluescreened just now for a moment trying to figure out how a people who use magic to make life easier, were also the ones known for their weaving, a manual hands-on task (lief's cloak is praised as being worthy of toran looms, implying high grade; pretty sure this was supposed to be a hint that his mother is not who he thinks she is also). some conclusions are 1) they weave with magic (sad, horrible), 2) they weave as a past-time, for fun etc (okay) but i took it to a third option

for a long time ive been thinking about toran magic as like, a balance and an energy thing (because i like that stuff lol) they cannot create something from nothing, only change things. they couldnt summon a fire, but they could change a piece of wood to fire and start a campfire, or those more advanced could even change the air into fire. but honestly it's left me a bit unsatisfied. like how does that explain the tora-del highway? hELL tora itself? what happened to the marble that got carved away? also how can that mountain have been so perfect there was no cracks or seams?? or did they carve those bits out lol. questions for another day.

anyway i was thinking about how hobbies are good for you, you dont have to be good at something but it's good to do stuff for fun and when you do crafts you get a cool thing at the end of it that you made. but it's also like skills you can develop? and i wondered what if weaving is a starter skill that they learn, some of them at least. maybe there are different activities, and they do the one that speaks to them the most. there were other types of artisans in tora, just not as talked about (i guess they're robes are pretty iconic so it's easy for people to go wow robes wow weavers who made fabric for the robes so soft) like i distinctly remember barda remarking about how tora was untouched and why bandits wouldn't have stolen the carved box that ended up holding the auto-reply letters from the palace.

so what im thinking is that maybe this builds a foundation to help torans visualise and perform their magic?

it actually solves a problem ive had in my headcanons i feel like ive got seven eyes open rn 😂😂 but in relation to del culture and traditions, i've been thinking about there being a physical and spiritual realm of course, and maybe it's the comfort of threes but it felt like something was missing.

i dont know what to call it yet, but im thinking the third thing is like the glue, it connects all things, it's in everything. it's like a third realm but also more of like a medium maybe? kind of sappy but we can just call this the magical realm for now. i actually used to think of toran magic as being like a subset of the greater deltora magic, but now im thinking it's more like torans are more receptive to the magic realm, as del are to the spiritual, and the ralads to the physical; theyre the experts in these things, which is why unified deltora is important 😂; likewise dread gnomes specialise in gems, jalis in combat, mere in cunning, plains in hope perhaps? literally never thought about it quite like this so maybe i will process it different later and designate different specialties.

so when the torans are young, they learn a craft and these skills help them sort of "tap into" the magical realm. so in the case i first thought of, when a toran weaver starts to see and interact with the magical realm, the easiest way for them to engage with it would be to think of it as weaving. they might see the magical realm as threads that connect everything, and weave things together to get what they want. a potter might see it as a malleable mass and sculpt what they want. a carpenter might see it as something to carve, something to break and put together.

the magical realm is not a concrete thing at all, up to interpretation, perhaps a unique experience to anyone who could glimpse in; don't strictly have to be toran, but they are perhaps naturally receptive to it or it could even be entirely a knowledge thing and that they are taught about it more; someone like verity who had her eyes opened to this realm, and learned to interact with it on instinct. does open questions to what the hell is up with the plains lmao but i think thats another post.

sorry about all the "i'll tell you in another post" i was attempting to stay on track 😂😂 also there's a 90% chance im gonna forget to come back and write about them so if anyone is dying to know feel free to send me an ask or something???

also if you want to know more about these OCs let me know 👀 i can find an ask game or something maybe. it's a case of i know a lot but will forget it all if asked to speak freely, i need specific questions. i have also developed the first four a bit more, but the last three are not without character so they can still be included. maybe it will be a group effort and they will have Background.

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rainydayz-nstuff · 1 year ago

Note

Hiya! Are you taking requests? If so Can I ask for a Finn fic where his s/o is Bubblegum's younger sister? Like Neddy she was hidden from the world until him and Jake accidentally met her. I would love how it blossom.

THANK YOU! I’m always taking requests! (until like… the end of October due to school reasons)

Here is Finn meeting his future s/o, who is also the secret sister to Princess Bubblegum.

Finn and Jake had always done odd tasks for not only for Princess Bubblegum, but many other royals and people of the Land of Ooo.

But this quest was one of the oddest ones yet.

Bubblegum had given Finn one of her holo-pendants which held a map. That map would guide the two heroes through the unkept cavern underneath the Candy Kingdom, ones that they never knew existed.

But the problem was, she never specified what she wanted them to retrieve.

With a single push on a brick, a secret passage opened up and Bubblegum ushered the two boys inside.

“Follow the map exactly the way it says to go. No shortcuts, no breaking down walls. We can’t have anything happen to these caverns.”

She tried to explain shortly and efficiently before leaving quickly.

“D’you remember what PB wanted us to get? I mean, we know where to go but what is this for?” Jake broke the silence while glancing up at Finn.

Finn hummed while holding up the glowing pendant. It’s bright pink hologram showed their two dots walking down a dotted path. At the end was a large room with an X over it.

“I… I can’t remember. I think it was something… pink? Or was it red? Whatever it is, she really needed us for it.” His enthusiasm made Jake crack a small smile.

While staring at the map, a sudden dot flickered in the corner. Finn stopped and just stared at the flickering mark.

Finn’s dot was a blue, Jake’s was a green, and this odd one was a bright yellow. It flickered before slowly moving around. It was way off track where the boys were supposed to go, but whatever it was it seemed like no good.

“What is that? Maybe…” Finn gasped. “Maybe it’s someone doing shady biz down here! I mean, nobody else knows about this place so something must be up”

Jake nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Let’s go find this thing!”

The two started to sprint down the long hall before they took a sharp right, which was way off from where they were supposed to go.

They found themselves standing in front of a door. But unlike the rest of the place, this area seemed cleaned and taken care of. No moss growing, no cracked stone, and no signs of damage anywhere.

The two boys looked at the hologram and they saw that whatever was inside had stopped completely.

They gave each other a knowing look before nodding. They then kicked down the door. Their battle cries echoed in the room while they posed, ready to fight. Finn had his sword unsheathed while Jake’s fists grew to be giant.

Time seemed to freeze when the door was kicked open.

Finn’s eyes were wide as he stared at the Candy girl who had a stack of papers in her arms. Her soft eyes were wide and her gummy hair bounced around when her head whipped around.

His lips trembled and his face grew warm. Whoever this girl was pretty and seemed to be no threat to him, to anyone in that matter. She wore a long dress which opened up fuller at the bottom, the skirt spread around on the floor.

It was a baby pink color with see-through sleeves which made her style seem airy and innocent.

Her lips pressed thinly while she stared at the two in horror. Her pink brows furrowed while she shakily opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Jake glanced at the two, sensing a weird connection between the two. He backed away slowly while Finn suddenly dropped his sword.

It clanged against the ground and his stance softened. The girl flinched at the sound and her legs shook while she took a step back.

Finn stepped forward while he gave the girl a crooked smile.

“H…. Hi-“

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

Her sudden outburst made Finn freeze while her papers fell to the ground. She had her right hand raised to point right at him in an accusing way.

“I’m-“

“Who are you?!”

Every time Finn tried to speak, the girl kept repeating the same question. She kept going till she backed up and slipped on a piece of paper.

Finn rushed over and was about to help her, but he too slipped on the papers.

They both groaned in pain while Finn propped himself up on his arms. He stared at her face which was even more pretty up close.

The blush appeared in his face again before he started to stutter. “Hi… I’m Finn. And you are?”

The girl sat up slowly while leaning back on her hands. She licked her lips and tried to soothe her dry throat. “I am Princess Y/n, second in line to the Candy Kingdom.”

Her voice was filled with authority, but her body language showed that she was nervous and frightened.

“Wow… you’re really pretty…” Finn melted at her voice. Her face also heated up and he snapped back to reality realizing what he said. “I didn’t mean that! I-well you are pretty! But we just met, and this is… I’m sorry”

Y/n stared at him while he rambled before she tried to cover a giggle. “Pfff!” She failed, and then her laugh echoed in the room.

Now getting a better look, the room was spacious and filled with instruments, art, and books. In the corner was a neatly made bed with a crown sitting on the pillow.

Finn slowly blink before he stood and offered a hand to the girl. “Second in line?” Her raised a brow while giving her a charming grin.

Y/n slowly grabbed his hand, her pink hand darkening under his tanned skin. She allowed him to help herself up.

“Yes, my sister is Princess Bubblegum. You must know who she is, right?”

Jake strolled back in, his hand going around to show his shocked nature. “Woah! Woah, woah, woah! Sister?! PB has another sibling?!” He yelled, his mind exploding from shock.

Y/n smiled. “Yes! And that means you know about Neddy!” Her hands pressed together while she grinned widely.

She then let out a gasp. “Oh, I do know you both. You’re Finn the human , and you’re Jake his magic dog! My sister talks about you all the time.”

Her eyes widened before she bent down and started to go through the fallen pieces of paper. She sat up tall once she found the one she was looking for.

On a single page was a very detailed drawing of what Finn and Jake might have looked like, just based off of her sisters tales. Finn’s picture made him look a little older than he looked while Jake’s made him look more like an ordinary dog than a magic one.

“Sorry if they’re bad, I’ve never really seen other people before…” She blushed while scratching the back of her neck.

Finn’s eyes lit up and he grabbed the picture. “Are you kidding?! This is mathmatical!” He cheered before hugging it close. “I love it!!”

Almost a year had passed since Y/n was introduced to the real world. The one she was meant to live in.

Being locked underground for years wasn’t good for her, mentally and physically.

The one thing she couldn’t take her eyes off every single day was the stars.

She never saw them in person until months after returning to the surface. Her eyes reflected all of the small and big lights in the sky.

Finn remembers the look on her face because he was the one to surprise her with them.

Now every night, no matter the weather, inside or outside, she stares at the stars that tell her different stories.

Her back laid on a cold grass, her candy hair sprawled out while she smiled contently. “Look at that one! Next to the Little Dipper.” She pointed up eagerly.

Finn followed her finger and he grinned. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a bright star.” He smiled before looking at her.

Her eyes stayed on the stars while he stared at her. Of course Finn had fallen for the sister of his original crush. But things were different.

He was older now and realized that this girl was meant for him, and he hoped she felt the same.

“It’s so pretty…” She whispered to herself, but Finn always heard her voice.

He stared at her awe-struck face while a blush softened his cheeks. “Yeah…. Really pretty…”

Y/n didn’t notice his gaze, but she intentionally scooted closer and laid her head near his chest while continuing to stare at the sky.

A faint smile ghosting her lips while she felt comfortable against the young hero.

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!! Thank you for requesting!!!

#adventure time #finn mertens #finn the human #fluff #romantic #romance #finn x reader #reader insert #female reader #x reader #fanfic #imagine #adventure time x reader #television #cartoon network #tv shows #cartoon #canon x reader

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aureliqs · 4 months ago

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night time sneaking out part 1.

pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!reader

content: fluff

summary: the marauders, or mostly Sirius, had the glorious idea to sneak out. Sirius heard rumours of a secrete passage in the castle leading to a viewpoint, which he wants to explore. Who would have expected it wouldn’t go according to plan? Oh right y/n did. Did she join anyways, because of Remus? Obviously. Y’all know this is a Remus story ;)

“Psssst, Dorcas shut up! I’m trying to hear if the anyone’s still in the common room” Lilly whispered in quite a passive aggressive manner. Dorcas just shot back an “I’m not the one talking right now!”

As I grew annoyed with their bickering, I silenced them with a long “psssst”, after which we could listen to the situation outside. Everything seemed quite silent to us, except for some hooting owls in the distance. Lilly went outside first, with Dorcas, Marlene and I coming after her.

As we’ve hurtled down the stairs, I could already see the boys from afar. Remus is in his usual brown knitted sweater. His hair was quite messy compared to his usual appearance, but I suppose it was quite late and he didn’t really bother with it anymore. It was like seeing a more intimate Remus, a side I didn’t know but wanted to explore. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Remus. When the boys asked me and he looked at me I just agreed without a second thought. Of course it’s a stupid idea. We might get in so much trouble, but I couldn’t let that chance pass.

He stood next to Peter, readjusting his sweater, and I couldn’t help but stare. Remus must have felt my eyes on him. In a swift turn his eyes darted towards me, and I felt myself growing red. I returned his bright smile with a fainter one, trying to hide my embarrassment. Oh Godric, please don’t think I’m weird Remus.

I’ve reached the end of the steps and Sirius switched on his natural charm. “Ladies” Sirius sing sang in an excited demeanour. “I will show you something unseen, even unheard of. You won’t believe your eyes, if you see the viewpoint I am about to show you”. It felt like Sirius was about to go on forever, but James put a stop to it and interrupted him. “Mate, let’s cut it short” James eyes were focused on Lilly so much, you could think she was like a golden snitch in a quidditch match. You’re in for a great time.”, with a wink to Lilly that was rather obvious to everyone around.

It was James usual demeanour of trying to pursue Lilly. As her friend, I know she’s falling for it, though I would never tell James. That’s on her.

Still, sometimes I wonder if anyone would pursue me like that. Well, no I’m just lying to myself again. I wonder if Remus would. I want that Remus would. I was so lost in thought. I was just walking along, not knowing what to expect from this night. I’ve got a feeling it won’t be boring.

“Ouch!” Remus blurted out as you see the ground moving closer to your face. Merely moments before I hit the ground I felt hands wrapping themselves around my waits, and as I opened my eyes again I was hovering over the floor.

Someone pulled me up, and as I looked at my saviour my face began to burn bright red.“Y/n, are you alright?” Remus asked with Puppy eyes. I love his kind and caring nature, but for some reason I couldn’t shake off this feeling of underlying nervousness. What is it? Why can’t I shake off this feeling ? Doesn’t matter right now. Y/n speak! Say something! I’m so dumbstruck

“I…uhm…I’m fine” I’ve stuttered. “Thank you for catching me. Sorry for stepping on your foot” I felt the redness fading away mostly.

“If you’re gonna be this clumsy all night I’m in for a ride” the fluffy hair boy chuckled. “Don’t worry though, you didn’t hurt me”

I am a bit relieved. Of course I only join this stupid trip for Remus, and the first freaking thing I do is step on his foot and nearly knock myself out. He’s right. If I am this clumsy all night I’m really in for something. I need to pull myself together.

“Alright, again I am so sorry. I..I was just lost in thought”, but before I could continue he interrupted. “Hey, it’s really fine. Come along. We don’t wanna loose the others”

I swear his smile can melt all the ice of the earth. I just followed him and got back to the others, but all I could focus on was Remus. I am just a lost cause I suppose. For now though, I can just enjoy the night. We’ll see what happens

Let me know if y’all want a part two <3

Is this idea worth containing ?

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin drabble #young remus lupin #the marauders era #the marauders

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completeoveranalysis · 6 months ago

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In a small desert kingdom 🎶 hot wind in my hair 🎶 sweet smell of paryu 🎶 rising up through the air 🎶 up ahead in the distance 🎶 I saw a shimmering shape 🎶 my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim 🎶 I had to stop the passage of time 🎶

There Sakura stood in the reservoir 🎶 beneath Clow Palace 🎶 and I thought to myself 🎶 "I know this story well" 🎶 then she held out a lantern 🎶 she showed me the way 🎶 lead me down into the water 🎶 and I heard her say 🎶

"Welcome to the Tokyo Metro Building!" 🎶 such a lovely place 🎶 with a familiar face 🎶 any time of year 🎶 the timeline led us here 🎶

#IT'S THE PARYU FOR ME #replies #fieldofclover #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 212 #'welcome to the tokyo metropolitan building' i am lying down forever

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kankuroplease · 6 months ago

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could you please do a Hc for Frédéric to get to know him a little, for example his character..., I like the fact that he looks like Kawa and Kota😎👍

Frederick was the most laid back and easygoing baby of the pack

Never really cried unless he was hungry and preferred to sleep in his basket or on one of the ninken to being rocked to sleep

He did like crawling into their laps for cuddles though

Bees terrified him as a baby

He took a liking to his mother’s taiko and would copy the rhythm she would use. This became a regular occurrence until he was able to memorize them and make his own

As he grew, his vibrant and compassionate personality started peeking through and set him apart from his shyer older siblings

If there was dancing, he was in the middle of it; showing off and getting the other kids to dance too

Usually his grandmother Ebba or some wallflower of his choosing were his dance partners, but he’d occasionally would cut between his parents to dance with his mom too

He was the recipient of a wolf pups that he named Heofon. She’s his pride and joy 🥹

He would serenade the ninken has they all took baths in the river (Wolfgang found it easier to bathe the boys and dogs at the same time 💀)

As a teen he was rather notorious for having the habit of jumping rooftop to rooftop barefooted, his jovial demeanor, risk taking, great dancing (ofc), and hunting skills

Always helped his father butcher the meat for his mother (partially because it got him praise for being a good kid but also his mom was always cooking something and would let him sample the food before everyone else for helping)

He was in direct competition with Asahi in academics and tracking. He knew his older brother naturally more gifted in those areas, but it didn’t stop him from trying to keep up

Him and Kuri use to argue a lot as little kids over dumb things, but got closer as teens and are each others best friends

He brings Mika and Sena hang with the older guys so they could learn the ropes and stop clinging to their mother’s apron

Always helped Leonie braid her hair (even if he complained about it)

Reluctantly took Elke and Arashi on his ninken whenever he somehow got stuck with little kid babysitting duty

Although he was still lively, he mellowed out again in his early adulthood and took up tradesmen as occupation

Heofon is his wingwoman and gets the best cuts of meat for being such a good girl

He usually has to pay extra for passage on ships with her tho

He’s still the barefooted life of any party after a drink or two

Which lead to him traveling quite a lot and meeting many new people both old and young that he considers life long friends

He always made sure to write his family regularly when he was away and stock up on gifts for them

He was the first of their children to see the land of fire, which he highly recommended they his siblings stay away from

The main Inuzuka clan were nice and their Uchiha relatives seem to be doing well, but it’s far from a peaceful place in his opinion and he can see why their parents left it behind.

#ask #kpz naruto founder au #naruto ocs #knfau 🖼️#my art #Wolfgang x ringo #kpz pack 🐺

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thelampisaflashlight · 1 year ago

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Siúil, a Rún

[Tonight you get rewritten Mountain lore because it's humid as hell and I needed something to do. Hinted Drywall. Mentions of past infidelity (like centuries past) and possible murder.] Below the cut.

For all his strange otherworldliness, Mountain was, at his root, a man.

A man born of mortal parents who tangled and fled from each other.

A child born of an affair.

And from birth his life was set upon a tragic course, for fate is unjustly cruel to those whose only sin was to breathe.

He'd been young when the abbey was built.

A lad of twelve, who watched as the monks set about their work, hauling stones and taking axes to ancient trees.

He'd been cast out by then, four years since his mother vanished and his grandmother was rid of him, and found himself begging for his meals, so when the monks approached him offering food, it was only natural he'd accept.

From then on, the monks were good to him, and he was good to them.

They taught him to read, showed him how to work the land, and told him all of God's wisdoms.

Indeed, for some time Mountain was a devout follower of the church, though, as he grew older and wiser himself, he found reason to doubt the monks followed much of what they preached.

Whilst tending the gardens one afternoon, Mountain had caught sight of a lovely maiden with hair like fire, adorned with green ribbons that stood out amongst the flames, and eyes so blue he felt no clear sky could compare.

She had been weeping, and Mountain, kind soul that he was -but awkward to a fault- had approached her with the purest red rose he could find and offered it to her, a stutter to his voice as he tried to console her.

"I've plucked away the thorns, it will not hurt you."

I will not hurt you.

And from then on, ah, from then on Mountain found himself often in the company of that fair lady until her shift grew tight in the middle, and he knew, lord below, he knew, it could not of been his.

Still, he could pretend, for the sake of his own heart, that he was -the babe was a boy, and Mountain had considered him his son- and because it was the way of the times, he married that fair lady and tried his damnedest to make them a proper family.

But even though he had it in himself to love his wife, to care for his son, there was something nagging at him whenever he looked at the boy's face.

Too familiar to a man in his memories, from his days living in the abbey.

And too familiar still was the winding road upon which he followed his wife, who'd sworn to be loyal, down into the valley to the gates of that accursed building.

Though even then he did not confront her.

Did not ask to where she went when the days were long and the sunset well into the evening.

When winter came, he had to wonder which would claim him first; The cold of winter, or the chill of an empty bed.

One night his wife did not return, and no body along the road nor in the woods could be found, so with a brow heavy with burden, Mountain made for the abbey, bidding his son care -now not much older than he had been when left for the last time- but not before telling him plainly...

"If I do not return, do not linger here nor seek to find me. Go to the town, to the baker or the blacksmith, but for all that is good in this world, do not seek shelter in a house of God."

The descent into the valley was tiring in the snow, and Mountain could see his breath thicken in the air.

When he arrived at the abbey, he made not for the main entrance, but instead crept in through a side door, and the sight that met him there...

...Shockingly easy to forget with the passage of time.

Indeed, the exact scene he had witnessed was long faded from mind, replaced by better memories of more loyal friends and lovers, but there are times when he does recall bits and pieces.

And as Mountain licks the trickle of red from his fingers, having thoughtlessly dragged his hands through the thorns of newer blooms, he recalls his first taste of blood.

Flexing his fingers, Mountain uncurls his fist to gaze upon the treasure he'd pulled from the roses; A singular green hair tie that he deposits into Dew's waiting hand.

"You should really wear gloves." the ghoul gently scolds, casting the hair tie into a small bag filled up with lost and forgotten things, "Even I'm not dumb enough to stick my hand in there."

Mountain huffs a little laugh and plucks a rose from the bush -blush pink with a white center, less grand than the passionate red of yore- and does away with the thorns before tucking it into Dew's hair.

Half teasing, half to admire the way the faint burst of color stands out amongst the white strands, "I've plucked away the thorns."

I won't hurt you.

"You're such a..." Dew puffs his cheeks and a bit of steam flutters his curls, "...Just be careful, yeah?"

Please... don't hurt me.

"I will be from now on."

#Lamp writes #nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #sheetrock is a brand of drywall #mountaindew

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thewatercolours · 6 months ago

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King's Quest Fic: "Paths" (Part 3)

Previous instalments here

Perhaps a single sleep-in morning couldn’t fix everything.

In the three days after coronation, Graham racked up an impressive record as king. First, he managed to shatter an oil lantern in the oldest, yellowest, crispiest part of the castle archive, bursting with looseleaf waiting to be bound. They’d saved most of the stacks.

He’d written greeting letters to his fellow monarchs, including the queen of gigantic Serenia, the cloutiest player on the political stage. By some oblivious genius, he accidentally filled the whole thing with scathing double meanings about their countries’ future relationship, with a postscript that amounted to a casual declaration of war. The uncomfortable scribe had said nothing to Graham, but rushed off to check the letter with Royal Guard Number One. You could have knocked the new king over with a feather when the guard scornfully read the worst passages back to him.

Twice he groggily (and purely automatically) showed up for his old night shifts, embarrassing everyone. He was late for half the meetings on his agenda. One evening he signed nearly two hundred documents he was supposed to void, before someone stopped him.

But nothing compared with what came to be known in Mannerly Stove in years following as “The King Graham incident.”

Graham’s century old carriage rolled up the switchbacks. He drummed his listless fingers on the window. He knew at least two shortcuts he could have taken, if only they had let him ride his surefooted Triumph. But his old buddy was not a suitable steed for a king, or so they said.

He tugged at this collar. The carriage might have been spacious, if his honour guard hadn’t stuffed in with him. Did they think they had to form a defensive perimeter even inside the coach? The air outside was damply hot enough, more like the stillness before the summer storms than a September day. And inside with the five guards? Every inch of armour fogged up like a mirror after a bath.

“I’m not quite sure what the point of this is - ouch!” His temple struck the window as the carriage lurched wildly onto its two right wheels. The brow of his crown dug bluntly into the same place it dug every time.

“A little more caution on those sharp turns, Number Two?” the captain called, banging a fist on the ceiling.

“Righty-oh,” came their driver’s muffled voice.

The king groaned. He shoved aside his seatmate, who had toppled right over him. His sharp armour bits were all caught on Graham’s formal black and red outfit. “I mean,” he grunted, righting his crown, “I have been to Mannerly Stove. Every time I’ve been sent on a quest outside the kingdom, in fact. I get my lunch at the Olde Yarblesnoof. I know half the people by sight. Is this visit really necessary?”

Number One fanned himself with his notecards. His voice was flat and already tired. “Sir Graham visited. Sir Graham is not here today. You are Daventry.”

“Yeah, but, to an ordinary villager -”

The guard’s tone grew sharper. “Ever have the landlord knock on your door up in Llewdor?”

Graham swallowed. It had been a long time. Yet he was astonished how clearly he remembered his mother panicking, plastering on a smile for him and his sisters, rushing them out the backdoor, and telling them to play by the brook or in the woods. Just not near the house. She’d pat her hair and set her jaw, walking determinedly to the front door. He could not remember what the landlord looked like, except that he was really big. He had to stoop to get in the door. Graham frowned. “Yeah, occasionally.”

“It means a lot to an ordinary villager, wouldn’t you say?”

Graham didn’t answer.

Number One went on, a little less sharp, a little more didactic. “You are about a hundred times all that the landlord is, and more. So today you are going to calm their worries. You’ll smile and mingle, and let them show you whatever they’re proudest of - probably the Tickle Rock. You’ll declare three months’ tax forgiveness, and call for a cask of ale to be opened for the people. And all this will be code for, ‘You’re just as much a part of Daventry as the people down in the valley, Mannerly Stove. I’ll show you I’ll be good to you. You show me you’ll keep my mountain pass open, my only real road in and out clear of snow, catch my brigands, warn me of invaders, ensure food and tools and supplies flow into into my country without trouble, and keep me connected to the outside world.’ So yes, unless you fancy dining only on lavender for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of your reign, we could call it necessary. ”

“But does that also mean - agh!”

The carriage slammed to an abrupt halt. Graham and all the guards on his side were thrown into the laps of the guards across the way. The coach became a writhing tangle of arms, legs, and everyone’s favourite curses. Graham’s boot toe somehow caught on the overhead luggage rack, while his nose wedged in the crook of Number One’s elbow. He thought he heard the captain mutter under his breath, “Really?”Then at the top of his lungs, “Open the door, for pity’s sake!”

Someone found the latch. Half the guards tumbled out in a dust cloud.. Graham could not look anyone in the face as Numbers Three and Five extricated him, and lifted him out of the carriage like a child - into the midst of a throng of chuckling onlookers.

Get it together. Think of lavender for every meal!

Graham stepped away from the guards. He reached desperately for his dignity, or even just his coaching. Something came to hand. He lifted his chin, clenched his teeth into the most carefree smile in his repertoire, and waved a great big wave at the crowd of a hundred or so. “What’s shakin’, Mannerly Stove?” he shouted cheerily.

Number One slumped, but the crowd whooped and applauded. Some were still laughing, but that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Imagine if everyone had fallen silent.

A man of great girth, with a pentagonal hat and chain of office round his neck, strode forward importantly. As he stepped closer, Graham recognized him as Hector. He was more or less mayor, but spent most of his time selling artisanal cheeses over the border. Graham had stayed overnight at his house and beat him at hangman, back when King Edward had sent him to defeat a banshee.

Hector’s grin was enormous, but his eyes were humbly downcast as he swept off his hat with a flourish, and sank to one knee. “Majesty,” he boomed. “Here is a day that will not soon be forgotten in our lowly township.”

Graham sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his cuff, and pulled out formality. “The pleasure’s all mine, Lord Mayor. And thank you all,” he said, raising his voice, “for the warm welcome. It’s my honour to continue the strong relationship between the throne and this good village.”

More cheers. Well, that wasn’t too bad. Graham tried to resist, but he could not help sneaking a peek to see if Number One approved. But by this time, the captain was standing to inscrutable attention in a row with the other guards.

So they began. Speechlets, bouquets, a whirlwind tour of the town which Graham honestly could have led himself. A headache began as he boiled alive in his expensive outfit, but he soldiered on, oohing and ahhing dutifully.

At last they took him over the crest of the road and down into the mountain pass itself. In the distance, Graham could make out a colourful blur (zards, was his eyesight worse compared to his last visit? No, no, surely not,) which he knew to be the Serenian flag hanging over a small border fortification on the other side. Halfway between them, close to the mountainside waterfall, stood the first thing Graham did not recognize from before. Something glinting here and there with metal, and painted in red and blue.

“Er, what’s that?” he asked, as Hector led the way, walking backward.

“That,” said Hector with relish, raising his voice to be heard above the crash of the waterfall, “is the reason we insisted your people schedule your visit for today. We only finished putting it together last night. The pride of Mannerly Stove. This way, sire. Only, keep to the middle of the road. Safer.”

“Safer?” asked Graham, but the crowd was already bustling him down the slope toward the object. As it came into focus, he could make out sandbags, gears, a series of weigh scale bowls suspended from chains, and a long winding slide, about the right size for a marble. But none of the bells and whistles disguised the thing completely.

“A… tollbooth?”

Number One somehow shot him a pointed look, despite his eyes being disguised beneath his helmet. “A very fine tollbooth, I’m sure.”

“A groundbreaking tollbooth,” said Hector. “Like no one has ever seen before, my king. Let us demonstrate.”

To Graham’s annoyance, the excited mayor yanked him toward the window by the wrist, where a giggling assistant demanded five shiny gold coins. A scowl escaped him at the price, but Number Three leant over his shoulder and murmured something about how after all, he was really just dropping the money back into his own pocket. She asked whether he were smuggling anything, checked something off a list, and turned a crank.

The striped barrier began to rise. There was a shifting and creaking that didn’t seem to come from the mechanism, but out of the earth itself. Graham could have sworn he saw the pebbles on the road rolling slightly. For a moment, an unnaturally straight crack formed in a portion of the road, swallowing dust. Almost as suddenly it disappeared, and all went still. The barrier stopped, at full height.

“Have a nice trip!” the assistant rattled off. “Just have a word with the Serenians at the checkstop on your way through.”

Graham took a few wary steps over the invisible border, but it all seemed solid enough. He threw an uncertain glance back at the beaming group. “But I don’t actually, right?”

Hector chuckled. “Better not. We’d give the Serenians a good gossip if we sent the king himself through. On foot. All by himself and unprotected.”

Indignation flared in Graham's chest unexpectedly. He was seized by an impulse to power-walk over the frontier and give the people of Daventry something to gossip about. All by himself and unprotected, indeed. But he slapped that thought away, and ducked to slip under the re-lowered barrier.

The entire crowd gasped as one. The assistant’s mouth went round as an O, and the mayor waved his hands wildly. “No, no, no!” he cried. “Back up! Back up!”

Graham scooted backward, his black satin cloak billowing round. He instinctively checked the ground, but nothing seemed to be moving.

Hector placed a hand over his heart and heaved a sigh of relief. “Never,” he said, articulating every syllable, “ever try to pass while the gate is still shut. Or go around it. Or climb over it. There are weight sensitive plates everywhere, and if you did -"

“Raise that gate again,” commanded Number One with a firm nod at the assistant. She hurried to obey. The road began groaning again.

“- if you did,” Hector went on, “the entire border defense system would be triggered. Walls, saws, spikes, you name it. And if something of sufficient weight passes over one of those plates, like a cart, it can even set off two small landslides to block the pass on either side.”

“Retrieve the king,” said Number One hurriedly.

As the barrier locked into its highest position, Graham’s six guards charged forward. They seized him by the shoulders, and precisely maneuvered him to the very center of the road. They all but shoved him back to the Daventry side, even as they tiptoed, lightly as possible, on their curly boots. “Excuse me,” Graham growled so the crowd wouldn’t hear. “I am perfectly able to walk.” He dug in his heels before he could collide with Hector.

“Landslides?” Graham said aloud, righting himself and shaking off the guards. “That seems like a lot.”

Hector shook his head and waggled a sensible finger. “Nature’s trap for intruders. You see, a few months back, we had some trouble with bootleggers sneaking past this stretch of road. The late King Edward gave us a grant to tighten security. This Domino Effect Tollbooth was our most brilliant minds’ answer.”

Graham rubbed his chin stubble. “But I mean, smugglers aren’t limited to this route. You could actually sneak into the valley from any direction, right?”

“But NOT through Mannerly Stove,” proclaimed Hector, thrusting out his chest pompously, as though that settled the question. “But you haven’t seen the really droll part of it yet, sire. You might be thinking that an offender might get through the defenses anyhow. That’s why we installed these.” Hector indicated a row of thin, brass pipes protruding from the underside of the toll booth. “These swing out, and blast the scoundrel with sixteen bright colours of paint! Good luck blending in after that!”

“Wow.” Graham scratched his temple under his crown. “You figure it needs sixteen?”

“Naturally! Two or three colours could just mean housepainting, or an artist having a clumsy day. But the odds of sixteen? I think not. In fact, our designer’s original plan was for two-hundred-and-fifty-six colours, but there wasn’t room in the budget. But,” (his smile broadened again - how was that physically possible?) “if I may make so bold, things have been looking up since you got those treasures back. And we, we have full confidence you’ll make the very best use of them. You see, sire, the taxes your officials have us down for are shockingly heavy for such a small town. It's something I’d hoped we could chat about before you leave - possibly expanding the grant.”

“I see.” Graham couldn’t quite stop a smirk from creeping over his face. “So you can have the two-hundred-and-fifty-six colours.”

Hector bobbed the slightest of bows. “That would be a start.”

The smirk spread as he mirrored the mayor’s bow. “Of course. It’s so… great to know the kingdom’s money would be put to such excellent -”

A gauntleted hand clapped over the king’s mouth. “Bless you,” said Number One brusquely from behind him. “Just as you say, sire. Great to know security is being taken so seriously.”

Really? In what world did Number One imagine that was subtle?

Graham spluttered as the guard released him, but before he stepped away Number One poked him sharply between the shoulder blades. Muscle memory kicked in. Graham found himself straightening up and putting his shoulders back, as he always did on the training ground when Number One corrected his posture. Then he turned and glared, meeting the guard’s gaze. He deliberately slumped his shoulders and let himself fall into the easy bow-legged stance Number One was always giving him grief for. Zards; what was even the point of dragging him out here if they were just going to be embarrassed of his existence? Maybe they should just put the crown on Number One’s head and send him round to smile and wave at smug villagers. Stars knew he wouldn’t mind taking it off for a while. The headache was morphing from a gnaw to an ache.

Number One held his gaze. And Graham noticed suddenly that everyone had gone quiet.

Hector laughed nervously. “Perhaps your majesty is tired. The heat of the day, naturally. Maybe…” He glanced at the brook rushing by the wayside, and upward at the roiling foam of the falls. “I know just the thing to cool us all down. There’s a staircase carved into the rock that starts just over there. It leads up to a little cliff about halfway up the waterfall. The view is really spectacular.”

“Great idea!” Graham cut in. Anything to shift focus.

The slate-blue steps cut from the side of the mountain were puddle slick most of the way up, pooling mist into water.. More than once Graham nearly lost his footing and had to grab at the fiery-orange foliage of the bushes that lined the way. The second time, Number Two had to give him a shove to get his center of gravity back.

“You all right?” he whispered in Graham’s ear.

“I’m managing,” he said, trying to put some pep into it.

But Number Two didn’t pull back just yet. “Don’t think about who’s watching,” he murmured. “Not us, not them. Just think about one day when you’ll be old and stuck in bed all day, and can't climb mountains no more -and have fun with it now. That’s how it’s done.” He patted Graham lightly on the shoulder. “Sire.”

At length they reached the narrow shelf - Graham, the guards, and Hector, who immediately pointed out that you could see his house from there. In fact, Graham could see all of Mannerly Stove from there, and a good stretch of the kingdom below, decked out in autumn glory. He was fairly sure the shimmering bit of white light was the castle pinnacle. But it was the falls that really stole the show, rushing down in magnificent sheets, and casting up snowy white froth. Graham gratefully stepped into the spray and let it play over his face and hands. He rubbed the cool water into the corners of his eyes. Who cared that his good clothes got a trifle wet? Anyone with an ounce of compassion would give him this. He wondered what temperature the guards had reached in their armour, and whether they were envious.

Hector swept another needless bow. “I thought your majesty might find it refreshing. Now, while we’re up here, it would be a crime not to show you the Tickle Rock. How do you like that?” He pointed a brawny finger toward the cliff’s edge.

Perched near the brink sat the most top-heavy rock Graham had ever seen. As tall as he was, and rather wider than his arm span at the top, it dwindled to a narrow point at its base. He could have wrapped his fingers round the bottom. This, at last, was something to see.

“Perfectly balanced, as you see,” said Hector, taking a moment to hold his handkerchief under the waterfall and dab at his forehead. “It was the pride of our village long before the tollbooth. So, you see, it can never fall down. It’s been here as long as anyone knows. When the winds blow, it rocks a little, but it goes on standing.”

“And it can never fall down?” Graham asked, genuinely enchanted for the first time since his coronation.

“Never.”

“That’s incredible!”

“Miraculous,” the mayor agreed. He considered a moment, then seized off his hat and held it under the water to fill it up. “Stars bless us, but it is a hot day,” he muttered. “Yes, miraculous. It can never fall down, because if it did, we’d lose half our fame. Although if you come to think of it, the really miraculous thing, even more so than the Tickle Rock’s perfect balance, is that no idiot has ever climbed up here and given it a good…” He looked up from his hat, and froze. “Sir Graham! No!”

A shining-eyed Graham had closed the gap between himself and the rock. To Hector’s horror, even as the words formed on his lips, Graham raised his hand. Pointed a finger. And poked the stone.

It wobbled.

“What?” said Graham, glancing back over his shoulder in honest bewilderment. “Didn’t you say it can never fall?”

The rock lurched toward the precipice’s edge.

Hector screamed. The crowd below screamed. Nearly every guard screamed.

Graham’s blood froze, and his stomach turned a cat’s cradle. “No, no, no no no no no!” Without a thought in his head, except that the Tickle Rock must not fall, he clambered to get a hold of it, catching frantically at the air. His arms closed round its sides. He heaved backward, realizing just a moment later that if the stone came with him, it would land on top of him. But it didn’t. It wedged itself on the end of his boot, just a fraction away from his toes. It tottered - tottered further - and righted itself in his arms.

Oh, gods. Oh, merciful gods. That had been unthinkably close. He heaved a sigh of relief, and could have sworn that sigh echoed through the whole mountain pass.

Then something shifted, and Graham and the rock hurtled over the edge.

He cried out. For a moment someone seemed to be tugging at his cloak, but they must have let go. He pulled his arms free of the rock, and found himself spinning somersaults and cartwheels in freefall. The crown flew off his head. He reached, reached for something to grab hold of, but nothing met his grip.

Then he thudded into the earth.

The wind was knocked out of him, but his arm raised itself on reflex. With perfect timing, he snatched the crown out of the air. Well, at least he had that.

Five spinning skies resolved into one as he gasped breath back into his lungs. Dizzily, he raised himself on one elbow. He was laid out on his back, mere inches from the shattered chunks of the Tickle Rock. And on the other side of him, the tollbooth.

The ground began to creak and rumble under him.

Graham closed his eyes. “No…”

He launched himself into a roll just as the ground beneath where had been lying fell away. From the breach burst a circular saw, spinning so fast it screeched. He broke his roll just in time, for an identical saw split the ground and rose from the other side. Earsplitting bells and horns rang out. He staggered to his feet, only for something - a spinning jousting target? - to swing at his head. Throwing himself into the arms of instinct, he ducked and weaved as more and more threats appeared, some from the ground, some on metal fixtures that came out of the tollbooth, some from who could say where. He swerved to avoid a procession of five tremendous wooden mallets, any of which could have sent his head flying like a croquet ball. Finally, a great wall of black iron, lined at the top with vicious spikes, leapt out of the ground, cutting off his escape toward the Serenian side. Graham dashed wildly toward Daventry, even though the spikes of the second wall had already climbed a good three feet. Throwing all his momentum into it, he leapt wildly to clear the wall. But the spinning jousting target snagged his cloak, and threw him back into the middle of the fray.

He flattened himself against the ground, covering his head with his arms, and waited for something to squish or slice or stretch him. Somewhere, the rumbling grew even louder, until it roared.

Everything stopped.

He waited, then waited longer. But nothing more came. Slow as molasses in winter, he got to his feet and looked around. The saws were still, the mallets had fallen to the ground, inert, and the walls, while very much standing, seemed to have reached their full height.

He tilted his head back to look up at the cliff. Only Hector remained by the waterfall. His eyes goggled out of his head, but he said nothing. The guards were nowhere in sight, though he thought maybe he could just make out Number One’s voice raised above the crash of the water. “Pockets!”

“I’m -” His voice sounded weak and hoarse, and not nearly loud enough to carry. He tried again, a bit louder. “I’m here, Number One! I - think it’s all over.”

A blast of neon yellow splashed violently into his face.

He shut his eyes just in time. The paints soaked him with such force it was hard to keep his balance. He gritted his teeth, folded his arms, and leaned against the metal wall for support. Just stand and take it, and think what on earth you’re going to say to them all.

When at last the paint melee stopped, he cracked an eyelid and looked down at himself. If he hadn’t needed glasses before, he certainly would after an eyeful like that. Lime green, sherbet pink, tropical orange. This outfit was single handedly going to set the royal laundry on strike.

A helmeted head popped over the wall. “Sire!” cried Number One anxiously, already grabbing onto a spike to vault over. “Are you hurt?”

The ground had already spat so many things out; if only it could swallow him. He forced a limp, rainbow-coloured thumbs up.

Number One was there in a moment, seizing him by the elbows. “Are you hurt at all?” He sounded beside himself.

Graham shook his head, grateful that his sopping blue and white hair hung down over his face, so that his eyes were hidden too.

“Can you speak?”

“Uh huh.”

Number One’s grip relaxed, and if it was a wave of relief that washed over the guard, Graham could feel it roll over him too. Just for a moment. Because the next moment the grip turned severe. If Number One had been any stronger he would have crushed Graham's elbows as he leaned in and whispered furiously, “What in bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?” Then he stepped back, and shouted clearly, “His majesty is not seriously harmed. Numbers Two and Three, prepare the carriage to take him home at once. My lord mayor, on behalf of the royal guard, we are deeply, deeply sorry for this unfortunate accident. Numbers Four, Five, and Six, we’ll be here overnight to… deal with all this.”

Up on the clifftop, Hector shook himself from his stupor. “Uh - uh - uh, well,” he stammered, “well, I don’t think anyone’s heading home tonight. The, uh, the rock was, um, heavy. The landslides, they worked perfectly, on both sides. So you’re probably stuck here until, um, we can get the rubble crew in.”

Number One twitched, almost imperceptibly. “How long will that take?”

Hector began twisting his hat into a helix. “I don’t think the team has been, um, precisely organized yet. We - we only finished the tollbooth last night. Um, there’s a signup sheet on the town board. Can someone run and check on that?”

The last time Graham had stayed overnight at the mayor’s house, he’d slept on the sofa. This evening the two housemaids rushed about in a frenzy to get the master bedroom ready. They changed out the bedding, set up a side table with a pitcher of water, mints, and a bell, and covered the floor and armchair with towels and tarps, so the splattered king could drip as much as he liked.

Exhausted, he eased into the chair sorely. If his muscles were feeling that fall now, what would they be tomorrow? As for the headache, it had apparently decided to split expenses and housemate with a few other headaches. But a splitting head and aching muscles were things he could get over. He wasn’t sure about the rest.

The wash stand was just within reach. A linen towel hung over the edge. Improper it might be, but his handkerchief was a sodden mess of paint. Graham grabbed the towel and blew his nose hard. Even the mucus seemed to have all sixteen colours in it.

Number One marched into the room with the most precisely by-the-book march Graham had ever seen from him, but he only stopped the door from slamming at the last second. He stepped carefully around the colourful footprints, placed his helmet on the dresser, and stared at Graham. He didn’t exactly look angry. Graham didn’t quite know what that look was, except that it was intense. “What are you?” asked the guard slowly.

Graham shrugged. “An artistic masterpiece,” he said dryly.

“No. What are you?”

“I know. I know. I’m an idiot.” He dragged a weary hand across his face, and it came away purple and brown.

Number One took a step forward. “No!” He emphasized every word. “You are Daventry. Daventry! You cannot be Sir Graham any longer. You cannot be an island, or a maverick, or whatever you think you are. And you cannot be a rebellious schoolboy.”

Couldn’t he give it five minutes? “It’s just when he said it couldn’t fall, I took it in the sense that -”

“Daventry tumbled and scraped its way down a mountainside today. Daventry fell on its face in the dust.”

“I was actually on my back…”

“Daventry walked away wet, unsteady, and foolish, gagging up paint in front of the whole town, who will spread it round on our side of the border and over it. And the fault is completely mine.”

That got Graham’s attention. He looked up. “What?”

“You are as far from ready as you could be. And you nearly got yourself killed today.” Number One looked as though he might go on, but he abruptly stopped himself. He seized his helmet up, replaced it, and muttered, “I should be publicly flogged."

This time, he let the door slam.

#Pretty sure that tollbooth was made by the ACME corporation.#This story is all leading up to Chapter Two - so I canonically have to slam him with some disheartenment.#Don't worry - it's not the end of the story! I put characters through the wringer but I don't do it for nothing.#king's quest #king graham #my writing #fanfiction

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