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tiredcowpoke · 4 years

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TITLE: Blank Spots [20] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Violence, kidnapping. NOTE: Chapter 20, damn. lol I’m not feeling 100% about this chapter but I wanted to get something out this weekend. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx @r4reland @itsnothingwithoutchaos

You knew there was some conflict in you about how everything turned out, the hurt Arthur caused still lingering somewhat but you knew you had to take that as it were.

Yet, you felt good. It felt good to finally cross that point with him--again. Perhaps things weren’t the same as they were in your memory, how sure you were in your relationship with him. However, things weren’t the same since Blackwater. You knew that even when your memory had been worse than it was currently, struggling to remember names and faces, let alone whole relationships. A part of you felt like you may never fully remember your relationship with Arthur, but you felt like you had finally taken a step in the right direction with your relationship with him currently.

Admittedly, it had been a little difficult to leave the small privacy of that beach where you had kissed him a couple days ago. To return to camp, to the dilemmas and course of normalcy you had found within. As normal as a group of outlaws could get, at least. For a while, you weren’t sure how Arthur wanted to approach this development, if it was worth telling people. You had realized that it would just be announcing what they already knew, but...well, maybe you were just overthinking that.

Really, it seemed like Arthur just took it in stride. Too exhausted to make a thing out of it, or if there was a point to doing so. A part of you was relieved.

Still, you did catch a couple eyes at the added bounce to your step, and the lingering touches when Arthur would seek you out as he was starting to move about on his own a little more frequently. He seemed to avoid outright public affection, something you had caught onto pretty quickly, but the two of you weren’t exactly hiding it. Still, nobody really felt the need to comment on it much outside of the odd question, which you found yourself not really minding.

It felt like you were allowed to let it go where it may without getting caught up in old expectations. Though, you weren’t too sure on where Arthur’s head was at, but he didn’t seem overly disappointed over that. You’d just have to trust him to tell you if he had an issue with anything.

Despite everything that happened to him, Arthur eventually seemed to return to his normal self after a while. A little thicker in beard and with a stiffer shoulder, but otherwise he seemed to have gathered himself back up after the whole ordeal with the O’Driscolls. You were greatly relieved at that, as much as you knew he would have to get back to gang business and what that entailed.

So, you weren’t too surprised to find him approach you one late afternoon with news that he had business in town with Bill and some other gang members.

“You sure you got the strength for whatever that will be?” you asked, Arthur rolling his previously injured shoulder somewhat.

“‘Bout as much as I’ll need,” he replied, “Can’t stay here forever, I gotta get back to what needs doin’.”

“I know,” you replied, giving him a small smile, “I just don’t want you hurting yourself again. I don’t think anybody can take you stuck in bed for another couple weeks.”

“Myself included,” he returned with a small huff.

As much as you had tried to cover it with a touch of humor, you really did worry he might injure himself again by getting back out there so soon. At all, really. You knew what type of life he led, what they all led, and the chance of a bullet to the skull was always high. You could remember the way Arthur had fallen off his horse that night, how he barely was able to move his legs to get to his cot. You had struggled with the feeling at the time, but you knew that regardless of how everything had developed after, you didn’t want to see him like that again.

Yet...well, there was always a chance that you just might.

“You’ll be safe?” you asked after a moment, glancing at him. Arthur shifted, glancing down for a moment before meeting your gaze.

“Hate to be the one to say it, but I ain’t afforded that luxury. Not with this life.”

He did have a point, as much as you didn’t like that answer.

“Hey, I’m gonna be fine,” Arthur said after a moment, “Bill’s probably just got some lead, nothin’ too complicated.”

“Because everything lately has been so easy…” you muttered, stepping into his side as Arthur reached out to wrap an arm around your shoulder, a small grin touching your face when you felt him press a kiss to the side of your head.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“Alright,” you replied with a nod, letting out a small sigh as you wrapped an arm around his back somewhat, “You know what you’re doing. Just be careful--for my sake, if anything.”

“I’ll try,” he replied, squeezing you to his side a little before releasing the embrace. You turned to face him once he had done so, watching as he seemed to glance off toward the horses for a moment before turning back toward you.

“Been thinkin’ we should head out to get the last of that treasure map,” he said after a moment, pulling a small grin from you, “Get outta here for a bit.”

“I’d like that,” you said with a nod, “Let all this play out first, though.”

“Yeah…” he replied, giving you a small grin of his own as you squeezed his arm somewhat before he turned to head out toward the horses.

You were worried, but you couldn’t fight the inevitable with Arthur turning his attention back to the gang. Perhaps it was a touch selfish, but you also knew everything that had happened had shaken you up some. Still, you were going to have to let that go. Some of it. You knew you had questions and a distrust of Micah that stemmed from what he did to you on that mountain and now what happened with Arthur.

That was a touch subject to approach, yet one you knew you would have to mention to Arthur eventually. It was just...hard to talk about. There was Micah himself, but even the memory of it filled you with such dread and fear.

Still, it couldn’t continue to go unsaid.

“Glad to see that fight you two was havin’ is cleared up,” a familiar voice from behind you said, turning to glance over your shoulder to see Abigail standing there.

She stood there with a cup of coffee, giving you a small smile as you let out a small huff.

“Yeah, and then some,” you replied as she walked up to stand beside you as she finished off her beverage.

“If only I could get John to see some damn sense. Ain’t from lack of tryin’,” she said around a sigh, you giving her a small nod.

It wasn’t the same screaming matches you heard from Dutch and Molly, and lord had those only gotten worse, but you knew Abigail and John had their moments in camp. Really, when you saw Abigail storming out from that tent they shared, you knew to give her some space. Still, you weren’t witness to the specifics of their relationship--well, if you had, it didn’t matter with your memory now.

“Grimshaw’s sayin’ Pearson needs a hand with dinner,” Abigail said after a moment, “Figure two hands might get us eatin’ all the quicker.”

Honestly, that didn’t sound too bad. You would need the distraction. You followed her out toward the food wagon once she had gotten her fill of the moment she had walked in on between you and Arthur. Still, even with the chopping of the vegetables and meat, you still couldn’t really shake this feeling that lingered at your back. You just...well, you were worried. That was what it was, and you were sure you would end up feeling foolish for it when they all returned back to camp.

Thankfully, your partial absentmindedness didn’t cost you a finger or injury. Though, you were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Abigail touch your shoulder, a look of mild irritation crossing her expression.

“Think I can wrap up the rest,” she said, “Think you can Jack for me? I think he’s playin’ in the woods near the edge of the river. Maybe the boy’ll listen to you quicker while I finish here.”

You let out a soft chuckle, passing her the last of the food you had to chop up. “We’ll see, but sure.”

Rinsing your hands in one of the washbasins nearby, you headed out toward the mouth of the river near the path leading out of camp. You didn’t see any sign of him from where you stood--he wasn’t tossing rocks into the water or drawing in the dirt with a stick like he usually was. You could feel a small twist to your gut, hoping that he was just in the tree line and you wouldn’t have to wander off to find him.

You dropped down onto the bank, following it along until you were able to step up and into the trees. You paused for a moment, listening for anything before walking further in.

“Jack?” you called out, pausing in your walk, “Your mama’s looking for you!”

Silence. More twisting in your gut. You really hoped he was just playing a game not wandered off or…

You moved with more purpose into the trees, calling his name once more before you heard some movement nearby. However, as you did so, you heard a muffled cry that sounded from very close nearby. Yet, as you turned to look in that direction, something very solid and hard jabbed into the centre of your back. The pain radiated up your spine, settling hard in your kidneys as you felt your knees hit the ground.

“Stay down!” an unknown voice hissed, your eyes lifting as someone stepped out from around a tree. He had his hand pressed against Jack’s mouth as he squirmed in his grasp. Instantly, you tried to stand up but you felt a hard kick to your side in retaliation.

“I said ‘stay down!’” the voice behind you said, hissing the words between his teeth before the man holding Jack spoke up.

“The hell’re you doin’?” he demanded, “We was just to get the kid.”

“What? Have her run back into that camp and tell everybody what happened? We’ll have them all on us ‘fore we can even get anythin’ outta this.”

What?

“We ain’t got time for this,” the man in front of you replied, “Take ‘em both.”

You heard Jack let out a cry behind the hand over his mouth, however you didn’t really get the chance to fully process what was happening before you felt a solid hit to the back of your head. Instantly, you heard ringing in your ears, before another hit sent you into darkness.

***

Your head was pounding, feeling the sway of a horse under you as you could feel the strain of your arms tucked behind your back. Blinking open your eyes, you saw the ground under you moving with the quick strides of the horse you were currently slung over the back of. You took in the breath before the events from before flooded into your head, causing you to jerk your head up. You could see passing trees as you were rode down some large pathway, seeing another rider ahead with an arm wrapped around Jack.

Twisting, you tried to see if you could roll off the horse but the tug at your shoulder told you that you were secured to the back of the saddle. Shit, no.

You thought about yelling, screaming, trying to see if anybody would catch on but with how fast they were riding up the path and how empty the area seemed to be, you knew it would only just make things worse.

It wasn’t long before you caught sight of the large structure at the end of the path--a plantation house. You squirmed as they stopped outside the steps, hearing Jack let out a yell as he was pulled from the horse in front of you. The rider of the one you were on the back off slipped off his saddle as the doors to the house opened, your world swaying somewhat as you were pulled to the ground.

You grunted as your face hit the gravel, likely leaving a couple cuts as you grit your teeth against the sharp and familiar headache.

“I told you to only get the boy,” a woman’s voice said from the stairs above you.

“She walked in on us,” you heard the man holding Jack say as you felt a pair of hands grip at your arms, hauling you to your feet. “Guess we’ll have to see what we can do with this one.”

“Damn useless,” the woman replied, your gaze lifting to see her beckon your captors inside. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you were shoved forward, catching the steps before being dragged up them and into the house.

You could hear Jack crying, a part of you wanting nothing more than to comfort the kid but you knew it would be only so fleeting if you didn’t get out of here.

“Bronte’s men are coming within the hour to pick up the boy,” she continued, “I don’t see why they would take her too, but I’ll have to figure something out. Separate them.”

“What the hell does that mean? Who is that?” you demanded, despite yourself, “H-He’s just a little boy! Please!”

“Shut her up,” the woman demanded, sounding much like she was done with the situation as Jack called your name.

“It’s going to be okay, Jack!” you called out as he was carried away from you toward another room. You heard a chuckle behind you, a tug on your arm turning you roughly toward the stairs leading to the upper floors.

“Sure is,” your captor stated, “Boy’s goin’ to Saint Denis, but you? We’ll get you sorted out.”

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader

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bloodyblade · 4 years

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Tremble For My Beloved [2]

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader Summary: AU in which the daughter of a nobleman was running for her life after an orc attack, and after being welcomed under Gandalf’s wings, joins the quest to reconquer Erebor. Sort of. Warnings: Mentions of violence. Word Count: 3.006 words.

[Chapter 1] [Ao3]

Chapter Two.

Dark wood and stains covered the place, certainly making an… impression. You didn’t open your mouth to say a word about the place, you were in no position to demand anything and she didn’t quite trust the man yet. Or not man, whatever. He said he was a wizard, so that explains the clothing and interesting choice of accessories.

You did go back to your family’s state, but they got in through the servers door, wishing to avoid the scenery. Your heart broke to pisces knowing you would have to leave them there, not being able to give them a proper goodbye, ceremony and burial. They didn’t deserve to be found like this, and only Mahal knows how long it would take for someone to eventually notice something was amiss and search for answers. But you did what you had to do, walking too slowly to Gandalf’s liking, telling you to fasten your pace in case anyone came back looking for you, which you knew was very likely. But inside, you felt like saying goodbye at least to the walls and foundations you were raised in, it wasn’t likely that you were to ever see this place again.

A few paintings were hanging around your room, all done by your own hand, some doodles from your childhood who looked rather scary under the candlelights when it was dark, and several flowers painted separately as you tried to learn how to paint throughout the years. You never did get much better at it, but it didn’t matter much, it was something you enjoyed and proud yourself on. It looked much better than your needle work, anyways. Opening the wardrobe doors, you saw one of your first tries of embroidering a skirt, which earned a scolding from your father -that’s how ugly it was, yes.

The memories weren’t stuck to a place, but it pained you deeply having to leave all of it behind. Grabbing a fabric travelling bag, which Gandalf advised would be much well fitted for your travel, you separated essentials. Mostly. Some fitting and soft trousers and whatever was better for traveling on foot and on horseback. You did get some dresses, but they were not a priority anymore. Some bags of coins, soaps, basic necessity items and a diary. For the calendar, of course. You needed to keep track of time, not to reminisce at the pictures and drawings that remained there since childhood. And before the wizard could bolt in there and drag you from your room and on your feet for a few hours, you changed clothes. Boots, trousers and a lighter tunic, shoving another one fit for winter on the bag after remembering you didn’t know how long you would be travelling for. You didn’t have time to shower, but you did clean yourself the best you could.

With one last look, you blew out the candles and left with a heavy heart, hearing Gandalf mumbling to himself, probably complaining about how long you took. He didn’t say anything when you joined him again, just gave you a quick glance and started walking in long strides, making it difficult to keep up with him and his spidery legs. Thankfully he had a horse, a beautiful white one. You may have asked what its name was, only to receive no answer at all besides him telling you to climb behind him. Asshat.

And you obviously couldn’t tell how much time had passed, you only knew: you were moving to Mahal knows where and you should have got something to eat before leaving. The stars were moving at a good pace, but you were uncomfortable. Uncomfortable on top of that horse, uncomfortable behind that man and following him. Hopefully he wasn’t going to hurt you, at least not more than you already were anyway. He didn’t make any conversation and you didn’t feel like starting one, tiredness finally crawling it’s way onto your bones and making your eyes heavy. And even when your emotions were all over the place and feeling like you still had to keep your eyes open, you didn’t think Gandalf was bad. He helped you after all, it was just… things were complicated right now, your bottled emotions wanted to spill, in the form of tears, yells, spit, heavy and painful breaths. But knowing he was taking you far away from danger was enough.

With a sigh, you tightened your arms around the wizard and dropped your head softly on his back and allowed your tired eyes to close. Just to rest a little, trying to keep the gruesome images of the day away and burrowed your face deeper against his worn but comforting clothes. The beads on your braids clinked against each other, the only other sound besides the horse’s hooves hitting the ground and nocturnal animals. As if you were one with the night, your vision got darker and your thoughts silent. But before you could sleep you heard the wizard’s comforting words:

“Don’t worry dear, the inevitable doom of today is going to be over soon.” He spoke over your shoulder while patting your hands and letting you fall asleep, embracing the very welcomed darkness.

And it felt like you just slept for 20 minutes only. When you arrived it was still dark out, so you had no idea of how much time passed. It was a different town, something probably made for there were many passertroughts in the region maybe. What other reason could there be for an inn, if from where you stood everything seemed so small? The stars still shone brightly through the holes poked on the dark sheets of the sky. Your body felt heavy but you allowed Gandalf to help you down, much more gently than when he practically threw you on top of the horse before. Stumbling a little on your feet, you managed to throw a dirty look his way before stepping aside so a stable boy could take the horse to the safety of a roof over it’s head and lots of carrots and apples, hopefully. And by the gods, was this boy tall! Taller than you, anyway. Although there were people much different than you in the city close to where you lived, you never got to close. And maybe you shouldn’t be too close anyway, looking up too much would make your neck hurt.

But you were rather different anyway, somewhat. You didn’t have the facial hair other female dwarves seemed to have, which you dad said you should be thankful for, for mean wouldn’t be as likely to treat you as harshly as them. And even if you never met many others from your race, you felt like an outsider. Whenever you would be out on the city, other dwarflings would point at you and call you a half-breed and when returning home and trying as best as you could to persuade your father to talk about your mother, he would never indulge you, marching away heatedly. This happened way too many times for your liking but you could never let it go. Why didn’t your home have paintings of her? Why was your knowledge of her so limited, only through what others were willing to tell you, but you couldn’t go through her things, take a peek of her dresses and shoes and gloves? Of course, plenty of theories you had but tried not to jump to conclusions. You didn’t really know what to think of it.

Your shortness sometimes would be met with raised eyebrows by some, but mostly that was the end of that. Children were always more brutal and didn’t have a filter on their mouths, often being shushed by their parents. What would they say if your status was different? Maybe now you would get to know. But at home you were always treated kindly by those who were of the race of men. Such as Askell. He didn’t deserve the end he met.

Shaking your head you followed Gandalf’s steps inside the in, and everything was… big and brown and smelt of beer. In the entry was what could be called a reception desk, too tall for you to try to take a look at what was hidden under that and you would die before asking the wizard to pick you up. Mahal, maybe you were supposed to be born a hobbit, who knows. To the side a bar and tables with chairs on top of it were empty, which explained why your body wanted to shut down on the spot. The two of them exchanged a few words, the man behind the counter looking bored as ever, even going so far to yawn on the wizard’s face, who seemed unfazed.

You haven’t noticed they were done talking before Gandalf beckoned you to go with him, the man’s eyes trained on you. You quickly averted your eyes and hurriedly fell into step with Pointy Hat. How could you not lose yourself in thought when he barely talked with you and didn’t even bother to respond at times? Just because he helped you he really thought he could be so… rude?

He stopped in front of a door and handed you a key before opening it, walking towards the door besides yours. Peeking you could see a bed, a fire place and a chair. A tiny window that allowed the moonshine inside, but too tall for you to reach, even if you stood on the bed.

“You need sleep, dear. I’ll send for you at the ‘morrow and we’ll talk.” He said unlocking his own bedroom door. “I give you my word, if that counts for something” He said with a hint of humor in his voice, which prompted you to send a small smile his way. Oh, he was definitely aware of your lack of trust in him.

“G’night.” You wished and hurriedly closed the door behind you, not wanting to wait for his answer, although you could hear a chuckle from where you stood, planted behind the door. When you heard the door close, you finally allowed a relieved breath to leave your body. Locking the door and throwing the bag on the chair and falling face first on the mattress. You couldn’t wait for the next day. Well, you didn’t really want to know what was gonna happen tomorrow, but didn’t have much choice. Your body needed rest anyway, so you allowed yourself to close your eyes and let your body go numb before you fell into unconsciousness.

Maybe whoever designed that place should be fired, for waking up with the blazing rays of sunshine directly onto your eyes should be considered a major offense. You had a restless sleep, waking up in the few hours you had and turning around a considerable amount of times to try and make yourself comfortable on the thin mattress. Despite waking up a little disoriented as to where you were, you quickly grasped what happened last night. Screams, blood and guts, running, a wizard and a shady place you never heard of. It should’ve stayed that away, for the sake of your back. Would’ve been more comfortable sleeping on the grass. Ugh.

Sitting up, you ran your hands on top of your hair to access the damage- definitely felt like a rat’s nest, if you wondered how matted it was. Maybe running your hands thought it would be a bad idea, fingers might get stuck. Quickly scrambling for your bag, you fished for a brush to rey to make it as presentable as possible, knowing it would still look rather… odd. Would Gandalf be awake this early? You were dying to eat anything at all, really. Hopefully he would pay for you and answer your questions.

With nothing to do besides staring at the ceiling, you righted yourself to your best efforts and left the room, taking your belongings with you. You could hear chatter coming from the direction you came from last night. Well, the territory could be… hostile. So yes, of course you had reason to feel anxious and rather worried. Clearly a place made for the race of men, and you could tell. Their strides were long but not as long as the elves would have. They didn’t have the same height, they were similar, sure, but you still had to bend your neck towards the sky sometimes to talk to them. And if the woman who just passed you in the corridor you were standing for a few moments having your monolog was any indication, they either were very confused with your presence or thought you were a lost child. If anything, you were sure you were a very pretty and slightly dirtied child sneaking from the room you were sharing with your parents.

Inhaling deeply you made your way to the dining area, seeing a few people on the tables, including the wizard, smoking a pipe. Looking to the sides, no one was paying attention to you, too enthralled in their own conversations to pay attention to anything else. Making your way towards the table he’s chosen, he had his eyes on you. Diverting your eyes, you sat in front of him.

“Good morning” he said while the smoke dissipated from around him “I take you slept well? You seemed eager to go to bed.” He crossed his hands on the table in front of him, smiling slightly. Was he… making a joke?

“Uh, yeah… I did.” You cleared your throat awkwardly “Thanks for, y’know… That.” You tried again. Did he catch your meaning? “All of it.” You said with a nod. He seemed amused but just sent a nod back your way, before falling into a relative silence, if you ignore the chatter and clattering of cluttering. Servants were collecting things from tables and delivering fresh goods, now that made you realize how hungry you were before noticing a plate being deposited in front of you. Turning quickly to Gandalf, he simply inclined his head and arched an eyebrow -that made you delve right in, as gracefully as you could, but you were starving.

After a few minutes of silence, he began “So... I’m sure you have some questions and I would gladly answer them all.” He adjusted himself in the chair, sitting straighter. “As you might already know, my dear, I’m Gandalf.” You nodded with a mouthful of food “Also known as the Gandalf The Grey, the wizard.” He finished and you smirked, with a nod of understanding you pointed to your clothes. He chuckled “Well?”

With a sigh, you put everything aside, mimicking his posture, inclined on the table as best as you could. “I have several questions, actually.” He gestured for you to continue “Well, first I would like to know how you knew my father.”

“That’s a rather easy question to answer, my dear.” He said with a smile “Sindel, your father, helped me in a moment of need in exchange of my word.” You gave him as someone whose patience was thin. “And that means that for his help, I would give him my help in return, a promise, if you will.” Okay, that made sense. Dad did help several people, that’s who he was after all. “A promise to keep you safe, when the time comes.”

“So that’s how you knew where I lived?” He agreed with a small of course. “Okay, but that’s weird, what you said. You said ‘when the time comes’. And when you found me, I was hiding from death. How did you even know about that? Also how did you find me and how did you know when to come for me?” You spilled the many reasons why you were suspicious of him. Well, there’s his chance of proving himself trustworthy. Even though he already saved your life.

“You know what’s interesting?” He said moving to the side, taking a folded paper and setting it in the middle of the table. “Every dwarf has a prophecy. Sindel, your father had one. Your grandfather Serill had one and so did his One and so did their parents and their parent’s parents. See, when you come of age, you are given your prophecy and have an elder versed in Moon-letters to translate it for you in a private ceremony. But, considering everything that happened and the amount of… loss dwarves had that fateful day, several prophecies were lost, along with the ones who could read Moon-letters.” You reached for the paper curiously. “Your father had his letter and had it translated, so he knew of his fate, shared it with me. He knew of his end but always dreamt with a family. That’s why he asked of me to promise to protect his offspring, when his prophecy was to be fulfilled.” He finished leaning back on the chair, staff on his hand.

Unfolding your prophecy you found… nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Are you playing a trick on me?” You mumbled angrily, trying to manage the most menacing look you could muster.

“Moon-letters can only be revealed by the moon at a certain time”

“Okay… but what does my prophecy have anything to do with you? I get it, my father gave it to you because of his prophecy but…” How am I going to say this without sounding like I don’t have manners? “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me that is related to it. Maybe something you want to know about it?”

“There is only something I want to be sure of.” He replied after taking a pause to think on what to say. Shaking his head, he continued “Regarding your prophecy, yes. But for that to happen, we have to go somewhere else that is not here.”

“Well, where are we supposed to go then?” You asked, folding the paper back and hiding it inside your sleeve, apprehensively imagining that you would have to go somewhere else, again. Further away from where you were born and raised, again.

“Our destination is Rivendell.”

#bb writes #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader

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buttonso · 4 years

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Work in Progress Wednesday: Hopeful Skies - first 1,033 words

Yeah the Fire Emblem thing is still happening.

Healer Harvey encounters something unexpected in the woods!

“Valora root… finally.” Tugging gently at the pink-stemmed plant, Harvey cleared away the rocky soil carefully until the dark red roots were exposed, then drew his knife and cut the plant free with delicate precision, leaving a few shoots in the ground so it could regrow. Wrapping the plant carefully in a piece of cloth, he placed it in his belt pouch and rose slowly, wincing as middle-aged knees creaked in protest. Brushing dirt from his gloves, he looked up and squinted through the gloomy canopy of trees overhead. The sky had taken on a noticeably purple cast.

~I’ve lost track of time. Damn.~ It would be dark soon, and the woods were no longer safe at night. ~I just need a few peppermint flowers…~ He could get those on the way back to town if he hurried. He knew these woods well, and was confident he could get back with no trouble.

This small corner of the kingdom of Ferngil had not been touched directly by the war yet… but it was only a matter of time. The traveling merchants were fewer and farther between these days, and every time one showed up, they brought dreadful news. Tales of Ferngil forces falling in battle, of her borders being eaten away by the ever-hungry Gotoro Empire, and of mages wielding Void-borne dark magic to commit atrocities. Rumors of monsters being set loose to roam the countryside and terrorize the people into submission. A year ago, such things would have been difficult to believe, but not now. Monsters hadn’t yet appeared in the little valley he called home, but he’d seen plants that had been twisted and warped, that shrank back from sunlight but were… much more aggressive than any plant had a right to be after dark.

The air around him grew a bit lighter as he reached the southern edge of the woods and approached the seaside cliffs. He shuddered a bit at their proximity, trying not to dwell too much on the sharp drop to the rocks and surging surf below. A pity he dared not approach the edge- the flowers he wanted grew at their thickest mere inches from the drop-off. But he could still find enough specimens at a safe distance if luck was with him.

And, praise Light, it seemed luck was indeed with him. A nice, thick patch of the star-shaped red-and-white blossoms awaited him just where he expected to find them, and he quickly drew a tiny knife from its sheath on his belt and knelt, almost immediately losing himself in the task of examining each and every plant to choose the ones that would suit his healing potions and medicinal teas best. As he was wont to do (knowing full well it was a terrible habit) his focus was so complete that he shut out the rest of the world, the pounding surf fading to mere background noise, and the dying light only a concern inasmuch as it made seeing the plants more difficult.

A warm puff of breath on the back of his neck made Harvey jerk in surprise, a startled yelp leaping from his throat as he scrambled to his feet, whirling around to face whatever beast he was certain was ready to devour him, his only defense a small knife and a pouch full of herbs… and his eyes widened further as he dropped both knife and pouch. For a moment all he could see was a wall of white, but as he pushed his spectacles up with a trembling, dirt-smudged finger, he blinked, hard, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

The enormous, winged horse snorted and danced back a pace on long, graceful legs. Bright, snowy white on every part of its body that Harvey could see, it seemed to glow in the dim surroundings of the forest. A real Pegasus… here, in front of him! He stared in awe as the creature’s wings twitched and a pale hoof pawed at the ground. It tossed its head and snorted again, eyeing him warily- it did not seem inclined to flee, but also clearly did not trust him entirely.

“Ah… hello,” Harvey said cautiously, heart racing. Where had the thing come from? Wild pegasi lived up in the mountains, not the dark valley forests, but this was no wild animal. It wore tack- a complicated looking saddle graced its back, with wide leather bands across its chest and a heavy bridle secured to its head. The reins dangled in front, and appeared to be broken… which begged the question, where was the knight that should be accompanying it? He held a trembling hand out, unsure of what he would do if the creature actually came closer. He’d always dreamed of seeing one up close, but now that it was here in front of him, he was very aware of just how big the winged horse was.

“Where is your rider?” He whispered, afraid to raise his voice and frighten it. But then… What was he going to do with it if it stuck around?? He took a cautious step forward and it shied away, snorting again. “OK… let’s see…” He slowly knelt and retrieved his lost herb pouch, opening one of the compartments and slowly drawing out one of the nicer peppermint flowers. Pegasi liked sweet plants, so presumably the flowers were what had attracted it in the first place. He did his best to fight down a surge of boyish glee, but having the graceful animal so close, almost within touching distance, was quite literally a dream come true. But as it drew closer, step by cautious step, his searching gaze took in other details that tempered his joy.

The dark blue and silver bands (Ferngil royal army colors) circling the horse’s chest were scuffed and marked, as if they’d seen hard use. And a splash of crimson on the creature’s side… an injury, or a sign of what had befallen the knight? Word had it that the kingdom’s aerial forces had taken quite a beating recently… had this Pegasus lost his knight and strayed from the herd? Or was she somewhere nearby, injured or… worse?

#sdv #stardew valley fanfic #fire emblem #fire emblem fanfic #my fic #wip #i did work on breathe with me a bit but its about to get interesting and i don't want to spoil anything :)#stardew harvey #sdv harvey

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Monster Match #22: Tikbalang

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @severedreamerbeard: You’ve been matched with a tikbalang!

Tikbalangs, or Tigbolan, scare travelers by leading them astray and playing tricks on them, such as making them return to an arbitrary path, no matter how far they go or where they turn. A superstition popular with the Tagalogs of Rizal Province is that Tikbalangs are benevolent guardians of elemental kingdoms. They are usually found standing at the foot of large trees looking around for anyone who dares to bestow malignancy on their kingdom's territory.

It is a tall, bony humanoid creature with the head and hooves of a horse and disproportionately long limbs, to the point that its knees reach above its head when it squats down.

In some versions, the tikbalang can also transform itself into human form or turn invisible to humans and they like to lead travelers astray. Tikbalang is generally associated with dark, sparsely populated, foliage-overgrown areas, with legends variously identifying their abode as being beneath bridges, in bamboo clumps or banana groves, and atop Kalumpang (Sterculia foetida) or Balite (Ficus indica) trees.

You met Bayani in your art class on your very first day. He had immigrated from the Philippines to attend college a year before you started school, and due to his unusual appearance, had trouble making friends. You hadn’t seen anyone like him before, and where that made some people uncomfortable, it fascinated you. He was such a sweet person that you couldn’t help befriending him.

It took him some time to open up to you, but once he did, you realized how homesick he was. His kind typically lived in the same grove they were born in for their entire lives. Moving away was highly unlikely, but to actually integrate into society was practically unheard of. As far as you knew, he was the first of his kind to attend college. Anywhere. In history.

The only reason he wasn’t in the news was because he had specifically requested not to be. In fact, his advocates had filed injunctions to prevent the media from reporting on it. He didn’t want attention for doing what millions of people did all the time.

His sweetness made you friends, but it was the shy humility and talent that attracted you to him. He didn’t think much of himself, often having heard the awful things people said about him, and you wanted him to think of himself the way you did: unique and intelligent and kind. You were nervous about speaking your attraction to him. He was new to society and you weren’t sure of his preferences, or if he was even looking for any sort of romance.

“What is it like? Your home?” You asked him once during class. The two of you were sitting a little bit away from everyone else to give his long legs enough room without kicking someone else’s chair or easel.

“It is beautiful,” He told you, starting to sketch on a fresh page. “I lived deep in the jungle on the island of Luzon, near a steam that branched from the Magat River. It was lush and green. It never grew cold there, and there were many birds. My whole family had lived there for hundreds of years undetected before we learned of the Mass Integration. I miss it.”

“Why did you leave?”

“We had only heard that non-human creatures had joined humanity a few years ago, but we were still nervous to reveal ourselves. I was the first to decide to leave and see what the world was like. When my time in college is over, I plan to travel for a few years, then return with what I’ve learned. The rest of my clan will then decide if they wish to leave or stay.”

“Will you stay home after that?” You asked him.

“I don’t know yet,” He admitted. Looking over, you saw him drawing the thick underbrush of a forest. “I suppose I will decide when the time comes.”

“What’s been the hardest thing? Was it difficult to get into college?” You asked him.

“No, actually, passing the test was relatively easy after I took that year of tutoring. And the scholarship I received has made it rather easy.” He stopped sketching and sighed, looking out of the window. “I… I suppose I… did not realize how… small… people can be. How petty. How… superficial? Is that the word?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s right,” You replied.

He sighed. “I thought, because non-humans felt safe enough to reveal themselves, that it would be… less…” He sighed again sharply. “I can’t think of the words.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” You said. “Humans have a long history of not getting along with each other, so it’s unfortunately not surprising that they aren’t exactly nice to other species of people.”

“I can’t understand that,” He said with a grimace.

“Honestly, I can’t either,” You replied sadly. “Are you drawing home?”

“Yes,” He said, his mood brightening. “See? I can’t get the shape of the houses right, though.”

“Oh,” You said, scooting closer. “What kind of houses are they?”

“Small structures, usually one room, nothing grand. Most had open sides with only one or two complete walls, built up off the ground in case of flooding. Since it gets very hot, it was better to have open homes where the breezes could blow through, and we didn’t mind the rain.”

“Like this?” You asked as you sketched.

“Sloped roofs,” He said. “And they’re all pointed toward the river, so that the runoff drains that way. Yes, just like that.”

After sketching for a few more minutes, you took your paper and laid it over Bayani’s sketch, merging the two perfectly.

“Ha,” Bayani said softly. “There it is. Home.”

“I’d like to see it one day,” You said.

“Perhaps you will,” He replied.

“Isn’t it closed to outsiders?”

“Ordinarily,” He said. “But we make exceptions for friends.”

You smiled. “Are you going to enter the art competition they had on the notice board?” You asked him after a moment. “First prize is ten thousand dollars. You could go traveling on summer break, like you want to. Get a head start on seeing the world.”

“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t think I’m good enough yet to enter. What about you? You’re a wonderful artist.”

“Thanks,” You said. “But I’m not exactly amazing either.”

“You’re incredibly talented!” Bayani replied, earning a shushing from the professor. He ducked his head and spoke in a lower whisper. “You’ve got to win.”

“I’ll enter the contest if you will,” You told him.

“But I don’t even know what to do for the contest,” Bayani said, their face scrunched. “The theme is comfort. I’m not exactly comfortable right now.”

“I know,” You replied. “But there are things that comfort you. Your home does. Do that.”

“Meh, that’s predictable. I’d have to do something original to win.”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

“You enter and I’ll cheer you on,” Bayani said, smiling. “Competition isn’t natural to my people, so I’m still trying to understand it.”

“That’s why you should enter!” You insisted. “You have such a unique style, it’s sure to win.”

“Well, if you’re doing it, then I will, too. If only to challenge myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” You said as the professor called for the end of class. You began packing up your things and getting ready to leave. Bayani always let everyone leave first, and you always waited for him.

“I do find you a comfort,” Bayani said. “You remind me of a friend I had back home. We were always together. Until he found a mate, that is.”

“And you?” You asked, attempting to be nonchalant. “No interest in a mate?”

“Mm,” He replied noncommittally. “Not really. It’s hard to be interested in people I’ve known my whole life. There’s nothing new to learn about them. I feel like discovering new things about your partner is half the fun of loving them.”

“But what about when you’ve learned all there is to know about a person? Do you stop loving them?”

“Not necessarily,” He said, contemplative. “When you learn all there is to know about someone, then you change the situation and learn new things. I like to learn, and there’s no end to learning, now that the world is bigger than I first thought. And now that I can see the world and all the people in it, I can find someone who understands. Does that make sense?”

You laughed a little. “Honestly, that makes perfect sense.”

“What do you find comforting?” He asked. “In terms of the contest?”

“It differs on how I feel at the time,” You said. “If I’m scared, I like being hugged. If I’m sad, I like hugs. If I’m lonely… Oh. Well, I guess I’m not as complicated as I thought.”

He laughed. “How do you convey that through art?”

“I have no idea,” You said, laughing too. “I suppose I’ll figure it out.”

“What will you do with the money if you win?”

“Dunno,” You said. “Maybe start paying off my student loans.”

“Money is another thing that is odd to me,” He said, his face scrunching again like it did whenever he encountered a notion that was foreign to him. “At home, if you needed something, it was given to you. Debt is not a concept we believe in.”

“I wish it was like that everywhere.” You replied wistfully.

Outside of the Arts building, he bid you farewell. “I should hurry. The bus will be here soon and I don’t want to be late getting home. Today is my host sister’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to her birthday dinner.”

“Oh, have fun!” You said, waving. “Tell them I said hi!”

He waved back and began to jog toward the bus stop.

You walked back to your car, fumbling for your keys, lost in thought. Comfort was such an amorphous thing. Everyone had a different idea of what was comforting to them, but they often overlapped. Music, physical touch, objects, food. Different things, similar themes. How would you find a way to convey what comforted you the most?

You thought back on Bayani describing his home, the soft look of fondness he had when he was drawing it. His expression was familiar, if distant. Maybe it wasn’t your comfort you should focus on. Bayani was homesick, that much was obvious. What could you do to help?

At home in your apartment, trying to work with your roommate singing drunkenly along with the TV, you stared at an empty page. You’d been sitting there for an hour trying to draw something, but nothing was coming to you. Banging your head against the desk hadn’t helped, though it did cause your roommate to rush in with a half-empty vodka bottle, convinced someone was trying to break in. After taking the bottle awawy from him and putting him to bed, you sat back down at your desk and sighed, the blank paper mocking you with its… blankness. Fuck you, paper.

Start simple, you told yourself. A tree. Draw a tree.

You began to draw, and progress was stilted at first, but after a while, you tuned out sound and focused on your work. Time blurred and passed as if you were asleep, and before you knew it, the sun was rising.

Well, you were going to be useless today.

Looking back down, you were a little surprised to see Bayani on the page, sitting on the porch of one of those open-faced houses of his home. He was crouched over paper, drawing an undefined sketch. His face was relaxed, his posture at ease. His legs dangled over the side of the raised platform, and even as long as his legs were, they didn’t touch the ground. There were no stairs, but you imagined his people had no trouble getting up and down. Surrounding him was the forest of his home as he had described it to you, with the tall trees and flowers and birds nesting in the branches. There were younger Tikbalangs playing in the background, the younger siblings he spoke of so often.

“So this is what comfort looks like,” You said softly. “I think I get it now.”

It took a week before you were satisfied with the result, but you entered it without telling Bayani. You weren’t sure how he would feel about you using him as the subject of your submission, and it wasn’t likely that you’d win anyway, so he would probably never see it.

Two months later, you got a letter in the mail from the contest and put it away in your backpack, not thinking anything about it. When you got to school, however, it fell out of your pack and Bayani picked it up.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Oh, I think it’s something from the art competition.”

“You entered?” He said. “That’s great, you didn’t tell me!”

“I figured I wouldn’t win, so there was no point.”

“It’s unopened. Didn’t you even look?”

“Nah,” You said. “It’s probably just thanking me for my participation or something.”

“Can I open it?”

“Feel free.”

As you were getting your stuff set up to start class, you heard Bayani open the letter and a pause, then a gasp.

“You… won.”

“What?”

“You won!” He offered you the letter. “Look!”

“You’re shitting me,” You said, taking the letter and reading it. There, at the top in big bold letters, was Congratulations! “Well, fuck me.”

“What did you submit?”

“Oh…” You cleared your throat. “There’s a copy here.” You handed it to him.

He looked at it, and was silent for several minutes. You watched him apprehensively, the din of the class fading from your ears and it seemed as if you were the only two in the room.

“This is me,” He said quietly.

“I hope you don’t find this offensive,” You said anxiously. “I just remembered everything you told me about your home and it sounded amazing. I didn’t even realize what I was drawing until I was finished.”

“It’s beautiful,” He said.

“Oh…” You replied. “Thank you.”

He looked at you with a sweet smile. “It’s no wonder you won. I knew you could.”

You smiled back. “Thanks. I was thinking… maybe I could use the money and take us on a trip to your home. I know how homesick you are.”

He shook his head. “You should spend the money on what you want, not on what I want,” He replied.

“That is what I want,” You said. “Although… if I’m honest, there is one other thing I’d like to do.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Take you on a date?” You said hopefully.

The smile widened. “A new experience. Will I get to learn more about you?”

“I’m hoping you’ll learn everything about me, but I also hope you won’t get bored.”

He reached across and took your hand. “I don’t think that’s possible. In fact, I think we’ll be learning about each other for quite a long time. I look forward to all of it.”

You squeezed his hand in returned. “So do I.”

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Match #Tikbalang #Phillippine Mythology

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seavoice · 4 years

Text

Horse Trading

(link to ao3 on title, or continue reading after the read more)

“Octavian was an asshole,” Reyna said, a contemplative look on her face as she laid on the floor of Hazel’s Praetor Villa, “but sometimes I think, can you really blame him?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, from her position on the floor next to her, where she was trying to sketch Reyna, a task made inordinately difficult by the older girl’s constant moving around. “I really can.”

Reyna sighed. It was a long and contemplative sigh. It wasn’t unusual to see Reyna with a brooding, thinking look on her face, but the relaxed and content expression added a new dimension to it. It was something structural; it somehow made her look younger yet more self-assured at the same time. “Octavian,” Reyna repeated, “was an asshole. But this Villa, Hazel. This Villa. I can see why Octavian was so desperate for praetorship. This house almost makes up for the stress of leading a child army.”

“It does not,” Hazel said. “It really does not, Reyna. Distance has just made your heart grow fonder. And delusional.” She sighed as Reyna shifted her position yet again. Reyna winced as a wordless apology. “Also,” Hazel said, reaching for her eraser, “Octavian didn’t want the praetorship for the house. He wanted it because he was a power hungry and blood thirsty politician.”

“At least you agree the bed is worth it?”

The bed was very nice, Hazel had to admit. Californian King, which seemed excessive, but was appreciated, and the fluffiest pillows Hazel had ever laid her head on. “Maybe. But I’m not agreeing with you when you literally opted for laying on the floor instead of the bed.”

“Fair enough,” Reyna said. She stretched on the floor, some complicated starburst. Hazel decided to give up her endeavour at drawing Reyna and flipped to the previous page in her sketchbook where she had been working on a drawing of Arion. It was half completed, and it was an attempt at drawing purely from memory, but Hazel enjoyed the challenge. “But it’s good for your back, believe me.”

“You’re an immortal Huntress now. Does that really matter?”

“Also fair enough,” Reyna agreed. Reyna rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and peeked at Hazel’s sketchbook. She raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, that’s certainly more...horse-y than I usually look.”

“I gave up. You move too much.”

Reyna inclined her head in acceptance. Still on her belly, she folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

It was weird to see Reyna so carefree. Weird in an undoubtedly good way, but weird nonetheless. Immortality had, perhaps ironically, taken years off her shoulders.

Hazel hadn’t invited Reyna to New Rome to draw her, but inevitably, that was what the visit had come to. She had written to her asking for advice — advice on running an entire city, advice on leading a quote unquote “child army” in times of peace, advice on not going crazy with stress — and Reyna had accepted so readily that a ventus spirit had brought her letter the very day Hazel had sent hers. Hazel had prepared for the visit with a single minded focus; she had brought a notebook for note taking, three different colours of pens, a highlighter, and her firmest handshake.

But then they had skipped the firm handshake and instead had hugged, tight, and Reyna had snagged a bowl of jelly beans from the Praetor office, and for the next few hours they had done nothing but lay on the floor of Hazel’s newly acquired Praetor Villa, swapping stories after stories, lazing around and sketching. Reyna had told her about the Hunt’s newest undertaking, some mythological boar or the other, and also about Thalia’s new obsession with 80’s rock. Hazel had told her about Lavinia’s latest shenanigans, and Gwen’s new job as a much valued mental health counsellor for the Legion. No notetaking had taken place. No praetor advice had been shared.

“It’s very good,” Reyna said, gesturing to Hazel’s drawing of Arion. “The likeness is stunning.”

Hazel beamed. “Really?”

“Of course!” Reyna scrambled to sit up. “It’s uncanny. This is really, really good, Hazel. It’s like…” Reyna made a hand gesture like she was pulling something; Hazel recognised it as an unconscious tick that Reyna had, one usually employed in Town Hall meetings when she was struggling to find the correct words to use for convincing reluctant denizens. “It’s like make a career out of it good,” she finished.

It was a warming compliment. Hazel’s smile grew wider; this was a pride unlike any other, something simple and easy and painless. Hazel had convinced herself to take pride in the smaller things more often. It made a dreary life just a little bit happier and easier when she could take pride in mastering her mist magic, in baking a sweet cupcake to perfection, in a good sparring session, in making a friend smile. But this pride in her artwork was somehow—brighter. It was something she’d dedicated long hours to.

“Horse artist?” Hazel said. “You think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Are you kidding me? Pet artist! Lucrative as they come.” Reyna laughed, an easy, lovely sound, and this too was unusual, this too was good, this too warmed Hazel. “People go crazy when they get pets. Put them in all cute little kinds of outfits and hire professional photographers, artists...I’m serious, Hazel. Business idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hazel said, with a laugh of her own. Then she sighed and set down her pencil. “I appreciate the business advice, though honestly, what I need more is Praetor advice. I feel I’m going insane.”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reyna said. “You don’t need my advice, Hazel. You’re a force of nature.”

This was a sweet sentiment, and Reyna probably meant it, but it didn’t help Hazel’s case. “Thanks,” she said. “Like—genuinely. But I do feel...I do feel like I’m going insane. It’s—it’s a lot.”

Reyna’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked older at once, older in all senses of the word. Like the Reyna of before the Hunt, and the break from her duties—Reyna in charge, Praetor Reyna, sixteen year old Reyna with the world on her shoulders. She sat up straighter. “Is someone giving you trouble?” Reyna asked. “I was joking about Octavian earlier, but gods, if someone’s coming up to take his spot as Asshole of the Year—“

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. That’s nothing. I could deal with someone like that no problem. It’s just—like you said...child army.”

Reyna exhaled softly and closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Hazel hated bringing the mood down, hated evaporating Reyna’s good cheer, but she set that uncomfortableness aside for the time being. She pulled up her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. And there was solidarity in this too, acknowledgment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything’s—okay, now, for the time being. Doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever.”

“That’s not really ever in your control,” Reyna said with a rueful smile. “But I do...I do get what you mean. I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Hazel said. “That’s why I wrote to you.” She’d thought of going to Frank with these thoughts too, and she was sure he’d give good advice, and be kind about it, but a part of her—a stubborn part, maybe, a conscious part, sure, but a valid part, nonetheless—hadn’t wanted to show a weakness to her co-Praetor, even one as familiar as Frank.

“I don’t know if I can give you any great advice,” Reyna said at last. “I don’t know if I can tell you anything you don’t already know, and you are doing a great job.”

Hazel tried to keep the sadness out of her smile. “Hm.”

“What I needed?” Reyna said. “What I needed when I was a praetor was...gods, just a ear. Just someone to bear it with me. Someone to understand. Jas—he was gone, and it was just me. For the longest time. But then with Frank, it wasn’t as hard again, because we could...we could switch off. We could share. That’s the only thing I can really tell you, Hazel. Only advice I can give you. Share. Share it with me, always. With Frank. Lavinia. Nico. Your friends. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” Hazel said. She’d been alone for so long in Asphodel she had thought she could survive loneliness, if she had to. But she didn’t have to. And she didn’t want to. “And you sold yourself short Reyna—you do give great advice.”

“Sounds like I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“But I think I needed to hear that from you,” Hazel said. “From someone else. You said it yourself—I just needed to know someone else understood. Otherwise it gets...it gets lonely.”

Reyna’s smile was soft. “You’ve got good instincts, Hazel. You’ll be just fine.”

Gods, she hoped. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. You probably were busy with the hunt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, and there was that strange new lightness to her again, a relaxed happiness. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got time now.”

Hazel picked her pencil back up. “You know, if you try sitting still, maybe I can still do a quick sketch. Before you leave.”

“Actually,” Reyna said, and was Hazel imagining things or did she actually look self-conscious? “I have a sketch request, if you’d accept.”

Hazel was intrigued. “Oh. Oh. Sure. Who?”

Reyna smiled a little sheepishly. “Don’t laugh okay? I miss him. Scipio.”

Pet artist...Hazel let out a small giggle. “Oh, so when you said people go crazy when they get pets, you meant—“

“I told you not to laugh!” But Reyna was laughing herself. It wasn’t sad, but it was sort of wistful. “I never dressed him up or whatever, but he’s been on my mind lately; I’ve been wondering when he’ll reform. Pegasi reform slow, apparently. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, but now that I’m a Hunter—holy Pluto, I can. And you drew Arion so well—“

“I think it’s sweet,” Hazel said. It was, exceedingly so. Hazel was trying to recall Skippy in her memories, and she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered him soaring above them during the War Games. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but she thought she remembered enough to manage a sketch for Reyna. “It might not be a perfect likeness—“

“I’ve got a photo.”

Now, Hazel absolutely couldn’t control herself. She smiled wide, a fond laugh bubbling in her chest. “Oh, Reyna—“

“Will it, or will it not make it easier to draw him?” Reyna asked, tips of her ears a faint pink.

“It’ll be perfect,” Hazel promised. “Where have you got it? In the Praetor office?”

Reyna reached into her pocket and brought out a worn out photograph. As much as it was hilarious, it was also heart-warmingly sweet, a touch melancholy. Hazel sympathised with her—she couldn’t imagine losing Arion. She probably would start carrying a picture of him everywhere too; it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure,” Hazel said, studying the picture. “I can do a drawing for you no problem. You can carry it everywhere along with the picture. A horse drawing in exchange for solid advice. My first political quid pro quo as Praetor.”

“That’s a terrible deal, Hazel. I can literally commission you, if you want.”

“I’ll settle for a refill of my jelly beans,” Hazel said, gesturing at the now empty bowl of jelly beans. They’d made fast work of it. It hadn’t survived the first hour.

Reyna sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Oh, I forgot,” she said glumly. “One more piece of advice, Praetor to Praetor.”

Hazel looked up. “Yeah?”

“Stock up on those beans,” Reyna said mournfully. “And never let anyone break into your stash. You’ll need them.”

#hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #pjo #heroes of olympus #voop fic #eh this is kind of choppy but i do really love these two and think they should be friends #also not relevant to this story at all but frank and hazel are very much NOT a couple here. just co praetors and good friends #goodnight I’m going to bed

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queakenstein · 4 years

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Mama Queaky ! :D Could you do a Hw Zelink or OOT Zelink (either one is fine) where Zelda is struggling with trust issues from a rumor & Link is reassuring her ?

Hey, my little baby Anon! ‘course I can! (also, I have no idea if I’m correct about how old horses should be before they “retire” so feel free to educate me because I did like a quick 5 second google)

Also, also: Let me know if this is too long for ya’ll’s dashes. I can pop a read more on it to help.

______________

The whispers and rumors that swirl around any group can always be an interesting mix when it comes to romance. Especially, when in particular tiers of royalty. Zelda has learned to disregard them and, in some cases, to use them for her advantage should she need to. She has learned there is almost always a kernel of truth to even the most blown out of proportion secret. The Queen ignores the unnecessary information but the temptation to dive into the world of words orbiting around your own life can prove difficult.

“Your Highness is everything all right?” A young girl, new to the staff, asks as she picks up the tray of tea mostly untouched. She shuffles with nervousness and averts her pretty, brown eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry to ask but... I’ve heard... rumors.”

Zelda lifts an eyebrows and smiles, gently. “Birds like to twitter around and sing. Pay them no mind.” She closes the book she was reading, an old tome brought home by her favorite green clad knight, and sighs. “Thank you for your concern though.”

The girl nods and turns to leave but pauses. “It doesn’t bother you... though?” She seems torn between speaking so casually to the regent but the curiosity overcomes any desire to be quiet. Zelda’s familiar with the rather informal relationship she has with her ‘servants’. It’s something that she worked hard to achieve. “I don’t know that I could stand having anyone talk about me like that... I-In fact, I know I can’t...” Her hands grip the tray hard enough Zelda is a little shocked to see the white of her knuckles.

“Is there something you would like to say?” She urges, softly. Clearly, this was something that truly was bothering the young woman. “Or is there something I can help with?”

She wiggles her lips in an odd, quirky way as if the words are fighting just behind her teeth. “I... I’ve heard rumors.” The maid swallows and musters up a little more courage to shake the tremors in her voice. “That your husband has been seen... getting close with a ranch girl some ways away from town.”

‘Malon.’ Zelda thinks but does not interupt.

“M-My issue isn’t as serious as that... but... I heard... that there might be a bet among the guards on who... can... bed me first.” She says the last part so quietly that Zelda almosts asks her to repeat it but she’s shivering so badly that she doesn’t dare. “H-How do you ignore things like that? Mean things!”

The Queen gets up from her table and moves forward to take the tray from the girl’s hands. She puts it down and then takes hold of the girl. “It can be difficult and I remember when it used to sting. Hurt and cut so deep that I would agonize over it.” Zelda squeezes the girl shoulders and smiles. “ I have worked hard to value my own worth and words. I’ve surrounded myself with friends who are quick to ignore these kinds of things and who work to support one another. I would advise you to do the same.” She releases her and then laughs. “I have also gotten pretty brave and tend to track down those being particularly nasty to give them a piece of my mind.”

“R-Really?!”

“I wouldn’t say for you to do the same... but,” Zelda shrugs, “I can make an arrangement that the guards are reminded they are supposed to be noble and righteous.”

“Thank you!” The gratitude that shines in those brown eyes warms Zelda’s heat but it isn’t too long after they’re quick goodbye that something cold slithers it’s way in.

Her room is warm and inviting which is only enhanced by the fact that her favorite person is sitting in his old armchair by the fireplace. Link has his legs draped over the arm and seemed to have only managed removing one boot before getting lost in tracing the lines of the map he’s inspecting.

“I would have come to bed earlier but I got lost in the library.”

Link snorts and folds the map down so she can see him snicker at her. “You mean, lost in that old book I brought you.” He wags his eyebrows at her as she begins to undress for bed which is met with an eyeroll.

“Says the man studying his next adventure.”

“Heh.” He drops his map onto the end table next to him and reaches down to finally remove his shoe. “I am merely keeping our beloved kingdom safe from monsters.”

“And treasure.”

He grins. “If I must!” Link stands to begin removing his own clothes long since in need of a good cleaning. He drops across the bed and reaches his hand out to draw her against his chest. His merry mood dims and he looks sad all of a sudden. Link caresses her cheek when she props herself up to look at him with a questioning expression. “I, uh, talked to Malon the other day and she thinks it might be time I retire my girl.”

“Epona?” Zelda ignores the sting in her chest at the rancher’s name and focuses on the sadness in her husband’s voice. “She’s nearly 18, love. Not quite young enough for adventures any longer... ” She pokes his chest. “And neither are you.”

He pouts. “I’m not yet 30.”

“30 is old enough to start thinking about settling down... eh, dear?”

Link shrugs. “I don’t know.” He laughs. “Marriage is a being commitment.”

She gently smacks his chest and sits up. “Terribly sorry to inconvenience you.” Zelda sighs and, after just a moment or two of quick contemplation, decides that she doesn’t like the heaviness she feel in her chest. “Darling?”

Link pops up behind her and brushes her hair to the side so that he can kiss the curve of her neck. “Yes, my beautiful love?”

“Do... you...” She feels silly, suddenly, asking him something like this while his hands encircle her. “Um.”

Link places his chin on her shoulder and then titles his head so his head lightly bumps hers. “Zelda, what is it?” His voice is soft, encouraging, and she wonders if he will laugh at her question.

“You’ve been spending more time at Lon Lon... and... it’s come to the attention of the court--”

“Ah, yes, the spymasters.” Link pulls away to lie back against the headboard.

“Well.” She pushes on though she misses the reassurance his bodyheat gave her. “They’ve noticed how close you and Malon have become... again.”

“Again?” He asks and she turns in time to see the puzzle she had not even fully laid out click together in his eyes. “You think I’m cheating?” Link’s voice tries very hard to remain even and calm but she can tell there’s more complicated emotions swelling in him.

“N-No!” Zelda holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I-It’s just that you used to be close--”

“You can say engaged, Zelda. It’s not a curse.” Link frowns and crosses his arms. Zelda knows that’s the sign he has upped his mental guard. “That was ages ago. We were teenagers.”

“I know.” She slumps and curls her legs up to her chest. “Sometimes, when I hear the whispers, I think that maybe you regret becoming my husband.” She sighs. “It is hard when our relationship has been so complicated and I think about how easy a life with Malon would be.” She meets his gaze and shrugs. “I would not blame you if the temptation be--”

“Nope.” Link moves forward and seizes her face in his hands. He kisses her fully and hard against the mouth. “Listen,” He says presses his forehead against hers, “there isn’t a day that goes by that I am not so incredibly happy that I have you. That we chose each other. That I have this, right here, until that day that I die.” He kisses her more softly this time. “Malon and I were kids... there is always going to be some affection there. I cannot deny that.” Link smiles so softly and genuinely that Zelda feels her heart skip a beat. “But, I love you. I love you and there is no one else that would be able to fill the space you would leave if I were to lose you.”

Zelda smiles and is a little shocked when his thumb brushes away a tear. “I love you too, darling.” She kisses him and allows herself to be pulled into his lap. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Don’t be.” He chuckles. “Sometimes, it’s nice just to be reassured.”

#queaky writes #zelink #legend of zelda #fanfiction #zelink fanfiction

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saidelia-draconis · 4 years

Note

Word drabble prompt: Sacrifice

Sitting streetside at the quiet café Saidelia often liked to spend her mornings, she was greeted by the aging woman who smiled warmly, steaming pitcher in hand as she poured the paladin a hot cup. Behind a frame of wispy blonde hair, her eyes met the paladin’s. A warm, glowing smile painted her thin lips, pulling the wrinkles of her mouth tight. Saidelia smiled back in her typical, muted fashion.

“Good morning, Saidelia. Hadn’t seen you lately. I was starting to worry.”

“Thank you, Maria. How did you get my order out so fast?”

The woman smiled, a lighthearted laugh slowly ringing from her as she passed Saidelia her coffee and a light, vaguely fruit-smelling pastry. She sat down, procuring a mug from her apron. She poured herself a cup as she perched at the edge of the wooden chair, carefully doling out milk into her own coffee, leaving it in the middle of the table, knowing Saidelia would pass it by.

“Well. I wouldn’t say your order is complicated. Coffee and a pastry. You show up just about the same time every day. You’re very... Regimented. Or if you don’t show, I have a cup and pass the rest to the kitchen boys.”

“Hmm. Sorry to disappoint them. I wasn’t aware I had such a schedule. You really know when I show up?”

“My husband sets his watch by it. Funny, I had thought you did it on purpose.”

“Oh, dear. And what does he set it by on the days I don’t show up?”

“I’m not sure it matters. Poor man can’t keep time for his life. Odd quality in a baker.”

Saidelia snickered as she took another sip of her coffee, nodding as she thought about her interaction with the little café. She seemed slightly concerned. Predictable. On a Friday, her day from here was already planned into the late evening. She frowned. Was she boring? The awkward silence between the two hung long enough for the woman to notice, finally speaking up.

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know. That’s not what I meant. Yes, I’m fine. But do you mind if I ask... Am I boring?”

“Boring? Saidelia, I hardly know you. Hard to tell from your breakfast order. Half the city starts with coffee and a sweet.”

“Well, maybe. But I was just thinking that I do pretty much the same thing, in the exact order every week. And from what you said, apparently the same time.”

Maria thought for a moment, her eyes roaming over Saidelia as she took a sip of her coffee. She crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair, an inquisitive look lingering on her face. Finally, she sat back up, placing the nearly-empty cup on her table to refill.

“Well... You certainly don’t dress like anyone boring. Though I’m not sure what makes you wear armor to a café. Perhaps you get your internal clock from your time in the service? What’d you do?”

Saidelia scowled slightly. She had been coming to the same café on and off for over a year. Somehow she hadn’t managed to share anything more than her name. Her tongue slid across the inside of her cheek as she thought about her answer.

“I was in the Crusade when I was younger. Guess I picked it up there.”

Maria regarded Saidelia from across the table for a few moments, her expression contorting into one of disquiet. She took another sip of her still-hot cup, a scowl on her face when she lowered it to the table.

“Saidelia, forgive me for asking, but you don’t look much like an aged veteran. How old were you when you joined?”

“I want to say somewhere around ten. Why?”

Maria gave pause as her eyes lingered on the paladin. It was hard to imagine the armor-clad woman as a tender young squire. She smiled with a hint of pity, trying to hide her expression with the cup. Saidelia recognized it almost immediately, bristling. While she mentally prepared herself for the kindly woman’s reply.

“That’s awfully young. I’m sorry you had to give up your old life before--”

“It’s fine, really. I was actually the one who had the idea of joining. I wasn’t surrendered, or orphaned, or whatnot. I chose it.”

“Well still. You were still just a girl. That’s such a sacrifice to ask a child to make. Especially for the work you did. You hardly knew your parents. I couldn’t bear the thought of my child--”

“Maria. Please.”

Saidelia’s voice was bold, even commanding. Nevertheless, her expression was much more pained. Having weathered the same, or a similar conversation many a time, her patience was thin, especially before having finished her first cup of coffee for the morning.

“I’m sorry. I understand that you respect my work. I appreciate it. Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it was a lot for a child. Yes, things could have been different. I don’t want to sound ungrateful for your company, but I can’t do this over breakfast.”

The weary paladin sighed, taking another small sip of her acrid coffee before placing it down, gazing over the disheartened woman. Her expression softened slightly as she noticed Maria avoiding her gaze. She felt a pang of guilt. She made an attempt at mending fences, topping off the other woman’s cup.

“I’m... Sorry, Maria. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I wasn’t trying to offend.”

“I... I know. They never are. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve got my own problems to sort out.”

“Saidelia, can I ask you an honest question?”

“I owe you that much. Ask away.”

There was a pregnant pause. Maria ruminated on the question for a few moments as she stirred milk into the fresh coffee. Finally, she gazed back up at Saidelia, drawing in a breath.

“Without waxing poetic on your selflessness again; you were a kid when you left? What made you want to grow up and do what you do?”

The tension hung in the air as Saidelia watched the café owner pensively. She lapsed deep into reflection, her eyes glazing over as she attempted to collate her thoughts. When she finally spoke, there was a warm, almost rosy hint to her tone as she gave her reasoning.

“Well... You mean aside from not exactly loving the home I came from? I don’t know. When I was a kid, I heard a few stories about my grandfather. When my father was sober. Or from the townsfolk had time to put up with some snot-nosed kid. I don’t know if it’s fair to say everyone loved him, but it at least seemed like he changed the lives of those around him for the better. Even halfway across the Eastern Kingdoms. I even still have his old sword and shield. I wanted everyone to remember Saidelia Draconis the same way they remembered General Oreyn. The hero who gave his life helping refugees out of Stormwind after the Dark Portal. I didn’t want to waste away in some stable like my father, reeking of horse shit and rotgut.”

“I... See. How noble of you. And if you don’t mind... Was it worth it? Do you regret any of it?”

Saidelia breathed a long, weighty sigh as she considered the question. Her eyes widened as she mulled it over. Her lips pursed as she failed to contain a rather obvious frown. She lost her focus, drifting into a different place. The friends she had gained, some now lost. The myriad of scenarios she had imagined her life could have ended up. The ways she wished it had ended up. She watched her cup with a dull lidded gaze, staying dormant until Maria uncertainly laid a hand on her gauntlet.

“Saidelia?”

Finally, she spoke, her voice sounding weary and forlorn

“You could fill a book with the regrets I have. But no, I wouldn’t change it. There are more important things than myself. Or my comfort. I’d do it over again if I had to.”

“Thank you, Saidelia. I think I understand. I suppose I’ve taken enough of your time. Breakfast is on me today.”

(I see what you did there @zeehva. Thanks for the ask. Even if I’m multiple weeks late)

#Asks #Prompts #Writing

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lightningarmour · 5 years

Text

Some more weird shit from like 4 years ago I don’t remember writing

DING Steve minimized his game of solitaire to check his inbox. A new req-wish-ition had come in under the designation "Deneb." He skimmed over the notice, looking for the meat and potatoes. "On thursday the 25th, at 1:13 am, blah blah blah" he muttered, passing over the formalities until he found what he wanted. "Blah blah blah, formally wished for a..." Steve blinked at the next word and let out a strained sigh. "Son of a bitch!" He said, now going back to the top and reading each line carefully. Trevor leaned over the cubicle wall which was allegedly there to divide their work stations, not that it was very effective at it. "What's up Stevey boy?" Trevor asked in with a level of genuine curiosity that only morons could posses. As much as Steve hated talking or even looking at Trevor, he was relieved that he had someone to vent at. "You will not believe the ridiculous wish I just got." He said, baiting Trevor to take a guess. "Oh man, must be something rough... Uh, world peace?" "No, what? No, The Wisher is an eight year old girl," He looked back at the screen, "Cindy Benson," he said with a sneer, "she wouldn't know what world peace means." "Oh, uh does she want to be a princess or like a vampire or like a vampire princess or something?" Steve squinted at Trevor "What kind of eight year old girls do you get wishes from?" "I dunno man, what is it then?" He asked. "A Pony, Trevor. A god damned Pony." Steve shook his head in disgust, but Trevor only looked more confused than he usually did. "That's it? C'mon man, Ponies are easy!" Trevor replied with a chuckle, like this was all some kind of big joke. Steve rubbed his eyes and said "No, Trevor, Ponies are not "easy", they're common, sure, but that's what makes them such a pain in the ass." "I don't see what's so difficult about a pony." He said. "How many Ponies have you granted, Trevor?" Steve asked him. "Uh, I don't remember off the top of-" "Didn't think so, Trev." Steve said, interrupting him. His patience was wearing thin with Trevor's obliviousness. "It's not like a puppy or a duck or something like that. The dog could be a stray, or a rescue from the pound or whatever. You can practically drop a duck on a kid's head and be done with it. You can't drop a Pony on a little girl, Trevor." "Well, maybe it could have fallen off a-" Trevor started. "Off of a what? A pony truck?" "Or it could have wandered off of a farm or-" "Farm? FARM?" Steve began to raise his voice, but then lowered it again, not wanting to cause a scene and draw more of an audience. He scanned the email again before saying "Bangor, Trevor. The girl lives in Bangor, Maine for Christ's sake. In the suburbs no less. Is a Pony just going to wander into her back yard?" Steve leaned back in his chair and spun around his cubicle, Trevor's stupid face blurring by every two seconds. He came to a stop and looked back up at Trevor. "This is going to be a month and a half of paperwork at least. I'm going to have to set up a radio contest or schedule a Circus or something to roll through town, but it can't just be any old day, I'll have to look up regional holidays and festivals and all that crap, then I dunno..." He sat in contemplation for a moment. "Maybe one of their ponies breaks a leg or something and they're going to put it down, but then I can get the Mom and Dad in there to make an offer or-" "You're gonna give a little girl a pony with a broken leg?" Trevor asked. Steve looked at him and saw an expression bordering on revulsion. "Hey, look this is a complicated fix to put in, okay? The kid should be glad to get a damaged pony, I could just as easily send her...." Steve's face brightened into a smile, and Trevor's slumped again into confusion. "That's it, Trevor, I can get her a stuffed pony!" "Stevey, the only thing worse than an injured Pony is a dead one, man!" Tevor said in disgust. "No, idiot, like a stuffed animal, or like one of those wooden rocking horse things" "Oh." Trevor said. He tilted his head a bit and fixed a blank stare on the photocopier for a few seconds. "That seems a bit disingenuous don't you think?" He asked. "Oh, please, don't make me recite policy. The kid didn't specify that it had to be a real living horse, so implementation of the wish is up to the granter's interpretation." Trevor raised an eyebrow. "I guess so." Steve let out a sigh. "I mean, she's eight. She doesn't understand the logistics of owning a pony. Even if I make one magically appear in her bedroom, her parents won't let her keep it, and it'll end in tears anyway. At least like this, she can still play pretend and it won't end with Precious taking a trip to the glue factory, eh?" Trevor considered Steve's words for a moment and then cheered up and said "Yeah, I guess you're right." "Exactly," Steve said, turning back to his computer, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pony to grant." "Sure thing Stevey boy!" Trevor said, retreating back into his own cubicle. Steve rolled his eyes and made violent gestures at the cubicle wall. "All right Cindy, your wish is my command.

#I think this must have come from a writing prompt of some sort #Like #write a story about someone granting a wish #and I was like hey wouldn't it be funny if granting wishes was a really boring desk job #where you have to actually like #fill out requisition forms and allocate resources to pull off the wish

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asgardian--angels · 6 years

Text

Noodle’s Involvement in #FreeMurdoc

There’s a lot we don’t know right now about phase 5 and the #FreeMurdoc campaign. But it’s clear that hints are being dropped, peppered throughout recent press releases, photos, interviews, etc. It’s difficult right now to interpret everything we’re being given - what’s important, what isn’t, what we should be paying attention to. I’ve been talking with @sampersandman a lot and one thing that’s stood out consistently is Noodle’s reaction to the #FreeMurdoc campaign.

The first official, publicized mention of #FreeMurdoc is here, a photo for the Vive Latino concert in March 2018, with Noodle:

(the phrase Free Murdoc is on the blimp. And feel free to correct me if I’m wrong here about this being the first public mention, I wasn’t a fan yet. But what’s important is that it’s Noodle in the picture.)

This is only about a month after it was made known at the Brit Awards that Murdoc was in prison. A week later, another picture featuring Noodle and FreeMurdoc:

(his face is on the sign)

Then, in May, we have Noodle and Ace at the Kentucky Derby, where it’s said that one of the race horses had Free Murdoc written down its leg.

When confronted about this during the Noisey interview, Noodle responded

She then proceeds to dropkick the interviewer, causing him to change the topic. (This has already been pointed out as suspicious by others here on Tumblr!) Noodle even follows with “For now, Murdoc is in a place with lots of bars and locks.” (bold mine) In light of the other band members seeming not to be concerned with Murdoc’s freedom, and them even trying to disperse Free Murdoc protesters at concerts, this seems an important word choice. Noodle seems confident that Murdoc’s predicament is temporary. She also speaks to the importance of the band sticking together. Perhaps she knows Murdoc is needed for some larger purpose.

The above photos put Noodle at the center of three separate Free Murdoc related posts. Now, she isn’t alone in any of these pictures, but what’s significant is that she is the constant. Russel is in the first two, and Ace in the third, but Noodle is always in the forefront (and more than that, she’s placed on the side of the photo where the Murdoc-related item is).

I would also argue that the Muds Mug (as I call it) seen on Instagram belongs to Noodle.

In the posters that come with The Now Now, Noodle can be seen with a similar Frankenstein mug, and Jamie posted several other drawings of items seen at Noodle’s bedside at the same time as the mug, which upon inspection is shown to be just out of shot in the final art piece (the cushion and arm line up exactly). Therefore, this acts as yet another direct connection to Murdoc, and shows that she is still thinking of him while he is in prison.

Now, let’s move on to Murdoc in prison. Disregarding for now the info we’re given about HOW Murdoc got there (deserves its own post, probably will write one soon) we can just examine what we learn about Noodle through the chat bot and the rest of that Noisey interview.

Noodle has frozen Murdoc’s bank account.

Noodle is the only member of the band to contact him, sending him a single thumbs up emoji. (2D said that he accidentally sent Murdoc a cake, but Murdoc has made no mention of this, so it’s likely not important)

We don’t know why she’s frozen his account, but the emoji is definitely significant. Nothing says suspicious like a cryptic coded text, right? All we need now is neon flashing lights. However, the fact that Murdoc readily shared this information suggests he is not privy to whatever Noodle may be doing. He seemed just as confused as us (he was not aware of the Free Murdoc campaign until he was told by the interviewer either).

So three questions remain. Firstly, what IS Noodle’s involvement with Free Murdoc? They maintain that it’s fan-started (which is not true - at the very least they coined the phrase, publicized it, and let it take hold, and then the petition was started - for the phase to work, Free Murdoc had to come into existence). But could Noodle have started it? She has been following the Free Murdoc instagram since its inception, which certainly raises questions. But if nothing else, it appears she is secretly supporting it, and may be involved in some sort of ploy to free him. Are there inconsistencies? A couple. Namely, the Now Now Youtube Q&A, where, when asked about her memories of the band growing up, she says ‘2D was like my brother/pet, Russel was my uncle, and Murdoc I try to forget.’ Whether this was intentional, perhaps even to throw us off or make it seem like she doesn’t care, or is just bad writing due to whoever was answering the questions not being aware of the lore or upcoming plot, I am not sure. But for the most part, the official interviews and art seem to support the idea Noodle has something planned.

Question 2 - Does she have accomplices? Out of the band members, Noodle is the only one showing anything more than total disregard or annoyance at the prospect of the Free Murdoc campaign. 2D claims to have better things to worry about, and says he is happy to be free of the ‘demon’ that plagued him (and of course, trying to decipher where 2D is at has been the focus of much of our theorizing as of late). Russel has made his position clear, that he does not want Murdoc back. He has been the most aggressive on this front. It’s very unlikely Russel has anything to do with Free Murdoc. During the chat, Murdoc calls him a traitor and a wanker, for reasons unknown. But there are no fuzzy feelings between them right now, that’s for sure. Ace has no comment. Now, we still know very little about Ace, and more likely than not, that’s intentional. I’ve seen all kinds of theories about Ace’s intentions, his role in all of this, and it’s just too early to tell. Noodle is on friendly terms with him, that’s all we know. Maybe she’s trying to get him on her side, or secretly manipulate him, maybe they’re in it together, maybe Ace framed Murdoc himself and is using Noodle, WHO KNOWS. But the one mistake we could make is to underestimate Noodle. Never do that. She can take care of herself. (As for who framed Murdoc, a possible clue could be found in THIS chat response. He seems adamant that 2D and Noodle are innocent, but Russel and Ace are up for grabs)

Lastly, what would Noodle’s motives be for breaking Murdoc out of prison? Let’s turn to the lore. It is well-established that Murdoc and Noodle have something of a father-daughter relationship. Murdoc especially feels this bond deeply - listen to literally anything from Plastic Beach, Pirate Radio, or these tweets - and has attested to this as recently as the chat:

(from here)

Noodle is the only band member that Murdoc speaks positively or neutrally of no matter what you ask him on the chat (so far as I know). The other members usually receive negative responses unless you use specifically worded prompts.

After El Mañana and Plastic Beach, their relationship certainly became more complex, and is something Murdoc still feels guilty about (see this interview, where Noodle says how Murdoc has doted on her for seven years now). But Noodle has acknowledged that she does not hate him for it, rather that the situation is complicated, and that she is there to comfort him (after a bad acid trip, same difference). Noodle has shown to be more tolerant of Murdoc than the other members, possibly because he already treats her better and she knows that she holds a special place in his heart. Whatever the specifics, they are close, and this may be playing into some hidden motive she has for breaking him out. Loyalty to her surrogate father probably isn’t enough to fuel a whole prison breakout plot, but it could be a start to something bigger.

I would keep a close eye on Noodle in the coming months.

That’s what I’ve got so far. Only time will tell if we get any more hints! Let me know if I’ve missed anything! Thoughts?

#gorillaz #murdoc niccals #free murdoc #noodle #the now now #my meta #should i have put this under a read more? probably #tune in next time for MURDOC WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT RING WHAT DID YOU SMUGGLE YOU GREEN MUPPET

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kosmicdream · 6 years

Text

Your Comic Baby

You know that comic or story that you made when you were a teenager (or sometimes even younger) that propelled you to really WANT to create it. FOR REAL. You put all your energy towards it, for years, determined that it was going to be the one you HAD to make. But then something doesnt go right because, comics are hard-- so you start over and over and over and each reboot gets a bit more discouraging because you have SO MUCH planned out for this thing and you’re just stuck in the loop of redoing the first 5 pages every couple of years. But something about that story, you just cant let go of. You still want to make it happen because you’ve invested and dedicated so much into it. I know that feeling. I call those stories.. your Comic Baby.

You might have a lot of babies. I know I do. But there’s always this one certain comic baby that i struggle with more than the others. Its a difficult baby because I first made this baby when I was 13. And over the course of my highschool years, I was very outspoken about how i was going to really make this a real book for everyone to read. I was constantly working on it, even taking sketchbooks and clipboards to draw it or the characters in class. People were waiting to read this story because they could see how passionate about it I was. But comics were a lot harder than I thought they would be in my mind. I mean, i knew they would be difficult but it was like my art wasn’t as good as I knew it could be when i drew comics. I didn’t get it. And I’d learn so much and so fast that once i got one chapter finished and ready to read, i didn’t like it anymore.

This process went on until i graduated highschool. This dream of making a comic. Specifically THIS comic. I had a lot of stories i was planning on doing, but there was this one comic i really REALLY invested just. My maximum comic energy into. It was different from the other comics and stories. Not that the other ones werent good, they just didnt have the same bond with me that I had with this story. This comic baby was gonna be the thing i was going to be known for and be the first comic i would presented into the world. And in the end.. it actually wasn’t.

I mean, it was, in a way. Eggshells is a prequel to that baby comic. Set in the same universe. Part of the same story, more like a mini test version reboot of the One True Baby Comic. I decided to give the comics thing another try and started to work on eggshells in August 2011, then to ink in Febuary 2012 and finally started to post it in 2013.. sometime.

I took a really long break from comics between finishing highschool and starting eggshells. I would try here and there, but not getting this baby comic out when i was still IN highschool somehow made me feel like a failure of an artist. I was very hard on myself. I didn’t really know if i was even capable of BEING a comic artist because my comics weren’t coming out how i wanted and I couldn’t finish anything. Besides that, I didn’t even know if I could even make them as a career. (I still don’t know if I can but I know I’m going to continue to try.)

When I decided to start Eggshells, i decided that it would be another attempt at my favorite baby comic because I knew that if any of my stories had the emotional legs to motivate me to get through to the final page-- it would be that one. That special baby comic. I poured so much work into planning and preparing everything in a very tradition sense. Scripts, thumbnails, drawing layouts and props and character turn arounds.. ect ect.

Then the fire happened and I lost my ‘comic bible’ of sorts. The rough draft sketches of the entire thing. It was very sad.

But even before then, actually inking pages was not very fun. Because the process i made for it was .. not very fun. I was running into the same walls that I always had when rendering comic panels. It just was too slow and I couldn’t get a consistent look that i wanted. I wasn’t sure where to put detail (or balance the detail) so I would over render constantly. I would zoom in too much. I didn’t know how much to shade and word bubbles annoyed me. I wasn’t very satisfied and I would spend way too much time on each page.

I felt pretty exhausted after trying to ink it for one year and not even getting through the first chapter. Doubt and old dread of not being capable of a comic artist weighed on my shoulders. Of course then, when the fire happened, i just decided to put all that aside again. My life kinda was.. thrown in a loop.

Similarly, my life has been thrown in another one of those loops. A different kind but still, the same sort of disoriented “where the fuck should i live” kind of things. Some of these feelings have come back, the anxieties and unsureness but.. mostly just remembering about them rather than feeling the SAME things. I have acquired a sense of accomplishment in my art .. just with a totally different comic that came out of no-where. (the worm one, you know.)

My relationship with my art has changed so much at this point and I’m so.. not.. what i had predicted for myself?? Not in a negative way. its just odd. FFAK is such a different comic than i thought I would make too. I would describe the experience of working on FFAK as like, im in a shitty junkyard car and ive decided to slam on the gas as hard as i can and see how far it’ll go. Then it just didn’t stop. It took me on a fucking journey but at 90 miles per hour. No careful consideration, so much explicit violence and sex, aggressive confrontations and social commentary. Sex hat jokes. I really got to see a side of myself that this story continues to bring out. And as I worked on ffak more and more, I would sometimes look over at the passenger seat at the Comic Baby. Crossing their arms judgmentally at me and giving me a look like “Having fun? What about ME? Wasn’t I the important one to you?? Am I not special anymore???”

So sometimes i’d feel bad. And try to work on that one again.. but it didn’t make me feel good. I felt like i had to ride the FFAK wave because that was what was happening in the present and I was discovering too much about myself to go back to this older thing that i had a frustrating history with. It wasn’t that I didn’t LOVE the other story, it just didn’t feel right to work on then. So i just let myself focus on where my energy was wanting to go: The Worm Fucks. And the worm fuck comic is the one people read first. Its the first comic of my own i really got to.. read and experience more than just the first chapter. Its been amazing but its so weird. I feel like its a different kind of artist that makes it sometimes.

I don’t regret the worm fuck comic being the one I’m known for but its still funny to me how easily it might have never happened. If the fire hadn’t taken away so much of my work, I probably would be still slowly pushing out pages for eggshells. Or maybe I would have given up and moved on to do something else with my art career? I don’t know. All i know is what I ended up doing was this weird worm comic that is still going on for .. thousands of pages! and has no end in sight! I didnt even expect eggshells to last 1,000 pages but now I can tell my page-pacing is different than how i expected. I still haven’t even finished a comic yet. Its weird? Am I able to finish comics? I guess I don’t know yet because I haven’t. i might “know” endings to my stories but its very different when actually getting it done. I understand that life is more complicated than that and things like fires can change the circumstances in 10 minutes.

So I’m feeling a fear about this uncertain future I’m facing, I’m seeing that I have to make a lot of huge life changes for where I am going to live and what I have to do to make money to support myself. I’m scared that my routine ive established with FFAK will have to change. I wonder if I’ll never be able to replicate the same exact “throw it all into the wind” energy of working like I was able to.. at least I know I can’t right now, because I need to be careful and calculated again. My surroundings arent stable enough for me to dive headfirst into my projects.

With that I’ve noticed I’m drawing eggshells a little bit and enjoying it like I haven’t before. Is it what I need right now? It feels weirdly comforting to know that, no matter what the history i have with this comic, I’ll come back to it and continue to pick at it a little. it makes me feel like, no matter where I’m going to be in this world physically-- my comics will come along with me and they dont have to leave. they arent a product of circumstance. I can get right back on the horse. Its just part of my life that doesn’t have to go away or be taken away from me. Its a nice secure feeling that there’s this art thing isnt something I have to start over. I’d rather build on what I’ve got and it might take me a long time but I enjoy the journey. That feels good to me.

Anyway, even if I’m scared about where i’ll go from here I know i’ll have my car of screaming comic babies at all different ages that are demanding my attention. and some are more patient than others, i’ve totally ditched some babies along the way that i might pick back up later or merge with other babies through some horrific experiment. I’ll even make some new ones because life inspires me constantly and I have so many problems to sort out and what better way than to project on some cool anime characters. but i love all my comic babies!!!!!! and they love me. i have unique and interesting histories with all of them.

comic baby is such a creepy word but it really feels like they are your strange brain children that are also you. i don’t ever want children of my own, but i can see that i pour.. small small aspects of that i think that energy might be into my comics. (im not pretending its actually the same thing to be perfectly clear.) They take up all your time + energy and make you constantly lose sleep..and they grow distinct personalities that you dont expect and have to deal with.. people will judge you for them and how you “raise” them (make them), you’re endlessly proud of these babies and protective and shed tears for them and want them to SUCCEED and live on forever. you want other people to love them TOO and see the best parts of them, for all their flaws. You want em all to grow up as you hoped or planned but they wont at all. They’ll be totally different but also better than you could have imagined.

Comics & Art are such a special thing to get to experience. While i hope that i can make my dreams a reality with my art, I know that they’ll always be an integral part of my life + how i experience and see life and i’m so thankful ive decided to really let room for it there. Its amazing to me that i almost thought it wouldn’t. and i wasnt going to be allowed to be happy with my art because it wasn’t good enough and i wasn’t enough. but i am. and it is good.

Thank you for reading. -Kosmic

#ffak faq #ffak #feast for a king #eggshells #comics #webcomics #personal

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charlesabraham · 3 years

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“The Genius of Photography” Episode 1 Questions

1. What does the announcer propose is “photography’s true genius”

He says “photography’s true genius” is how it intrigues us by showing us the secret strangeness that lies beneath the world of appearances.

2. What was the inspiration of the first sculpture?

The legend of the inspiration of the first sculpture is from a Roman writer who tells the story of a woman who wanted to trace the shadow of her departing lover’s shadow on the wall, which inspired her father to make the first sculpture.

3. What was the flaw in Fox-Talbot’s list of accomplishments?

The flaw in Fox-Talbot’s list of accomplishments was that he couldn’t draw.

4. Does the Photographic medium care what is important and what is not important? - what do you think of this? Do you prefer to start with an important subject for a photograph or not? Why?

The Photographic medium does not care what is important and what is not important which I think is a useful and unique aspect of photography compared to other mediums. I believe it does not matter if the subject of a photograph is deemed important or not, as there is beauty to be found in insignificant subjects.

5. Why did Leland Stanford approach Muybridge - what problem did he want Answered?

He wanted to know if a horse ever had all four of its legs off of the ground while it ran.

6. What does Chuck Close say is the dilemma and the strength of the medium of photography? Why?

He says it's the easiest medium in which to be competent, but the hardest medium in which to have personal vision that is readily identifiable. He says this is because there's no physicality to a photograph and therefore it is very difficult and complicated for a photographer to develop a unique photography style that is unique and distinguishable.

7. What kinds of uses of photography come under the term vernacular?

Uses of photography under the term vernacular include journalistic, touristic, scientific, and forensic photography, as well as insurance records, court documents, sports photographs, postcards, just about any use of photography that isn’t art.

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themerrymutants · 4 years

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Human!Maeve Bio

TW: Kidnapping, Child Abuse

GENDER: Female

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

ORIENTATION: Baby she be bi, bi, bi

BIRTHDATE: December 31st 1988

LOCATION: Brooklyn, New York

OCCUPATION: Occult shop owner

FAMILY:

Jakob: ex who is still very active in her life and the lives of their children (sometimes still with her depending on the verse like ‘In the arms of the angels’), works in law enforcement as a detective

Ajani: biological son, two years older than Laure, protective big brother of the bunch

Laure: biological daughter, is a medium usually as a superpower rather than by magic

Aodh: Jakob’s nephew who was taken in temporarily after his mother passed away but was ultimately adopted a year later. He’s the same age as Ajani and honestly the boys could be twins often acting as such.

Jon: Adoptive son, Maeve doesn’t know too too much about him other than he came from a situation that’s unfortunately far too familiar. She tries her best to support him but doesn’t always know how.

Kinney: runs the stable where her therapy horse Shaene is boarded at. He’s not flesh and blood family but there’s always a spot for him at the dinner table should he wish to come over.

EYES: Brown

HAIR: Black

HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5'9", lengthy for lack of a better phrase

FC: Winnie Harlow

MAGIC TYPES: Water (primary), Energy (secondary), trying to learn reality warping magic

FULL APPEARANCE: Maeve is a rather well kept woman, her hair is always in some sort of order (usually either tightly braided or kept natural), and her clothes are borderline immaculate. She has a necklace with a rather rough hewn red stone in it that she will wear constantly except when sleeping. She is EXTREMELY attached to said necklace and will become extremely distraught if she is without it usually shouting something about ‘them’ finding her if she doesn’t have it.

Maeve’s skin is, as she’ll describe it, a rather warm chestnut with starkly contrasting areas without pigmentation at all. These areas were smaller when she was a child, according to her only a small spot on her nose and a larger patch on the back of her hand, but as she’s grown older the patches have grown larger and larger covering more and more of her body. It’s unknown whether or not these areas will continue to spread or not but she isn’t too worried about it. As long as she’s healthy she’s happy. While she may not be a tall woman she is a LONG woman. From her arms down to her legs everything appears to be extremely long usually giving the illusion of her being quite a bit taller than she actually is. She’s both proud of and embarrassed by this though she’s not exactly sure why.

PERSONALITY: Maeve has a personality that’s complicated. While clearly desiring attention from others she seems almost afraid to seek it as if opening herself up to such things may cause her severe harm. When she does open up though she is very sweet. This side of her though is rarely seen outside of interactions with her daughter as she’s usually avoiding people in general. She does try to keep others away from herself seemingly fearing for their safety should they come close.

With her daughter she is an excellent mother and tries her best to make sure that Laure is far better off than she ever was. She encourages her daughter to go out and explore. She’ll usually try to go with her but she sometimes finds this difficult. On the days when it’s near impossible for her to get herself out she’ll ask her friend Kinney (nicknamed Kin) to go take Laure on an adventure for her.

Maeve, rather like her daughter, is extremely curious and does want to know as much as she can about everything she can…it’s just the ‘interacting with other people’ thing that tends to make that difficult. She is slowly getting better though, partially thanks to her daughter and partially thanks to a therapy horse named Shaene. She finds that he makes things easier for her, she knows that if things get too much he’s there and he’ll always listen.

BIRTHPLACE: Unknown but believed to be somewhere in the Indiana area due to missing child posters Jakob found while digging for information about Maeve’s life before the trio.

HISTORY: Maeve’s early life, though she can’t remember it, was fairly good. At least until she turned 5 years old. It was then that she met Morrigan, Badb, and Macha. At first they were nice, playing with her, giving her toys, and gaining her trust. Her parents were certain that these women were more imaginary friends than actual flesh and blood women…that is until their daughter one day disappeared.

The trio had taken Maeve for their own and raised her as their own. Her life was a living nightmare during this point. Her former ‘friends’ were now the monsters that parents used to try and ward their children from undesirable behavior. The ones who once gave her nice things were now tormenting her at every turn. Any friend she tried to make they drove away causing her to become more and more isolated believing that her mere existence was a threat to all. She withdrew from any sort of contact with others with only the drawings on the walls of her ‘room’ and the one doll she’d managed to salvage for her friends. Using discarded bits of chalk and such she found during the few times she got to go outside she She used these to remember her parents, their faces, her friends, and everything else the sisters had taken from her. It was what kept her sane. She also became obsessed with water seeing it as a protector of sorts as to get to a secret spot she’d managed to discover while on one of her adventures away from the trio one had to cross a fast flowing river via stones that were just big enough for Maeve’s smaller self to hop over. She never quite realized that it was because of the rivers fast flow and not the water itself that had warded them off. Never the less she still believes that the water had somehow warded them off, a belief she still holds.

When she turned 19 old she snuck out once more, doll in hand, wanting to see proper sunlight and grass and trees again and, with any luck, escape. As she stepped out she heard unfamiliar voices barking orders at her. Like a frightened deer she froze unsure of what to do. She hadn’t had contact with people other than the trio in a very, very, very long time. It was then that a man stepped out from the group surrounding her. He had kind eyes and a friendly smile that somehow seemed familiar to her.

“You’re safe now,” he said with a reassuring smile offering a hand for her to take which she did. She spent the next several years with the man, a detective named Jakob, who had taken her in when he was told she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. He did his best to help her through the adjustment to civilization and living with others though he did struggle some. A few years went by and they fell in love and had a son together which they named Ajani. Not long after they had Ajani they ended up taking in Aodh who was Jakob’s nephew. It was meant to be temporary but they ended up adopting him officially a year later. Two years later they had another child, a daughter they named Laure.

When Laure turned two he signed her up for therapy riding it was there that she met both Kinney and the mild mannered gelding Shaene. Not too long after the couple broke up but they do keep in touch, Jakob visiting her shop as often as he can as well as taking Laure on adventures when he can.

#ooc #maeve bio #do not reblog #tw kidnapping #kidnapping tw #tw: kidnapping #tw child abuse #child abuse tw #tw: child abuse

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kwesi2777 · 5 years

Photo

Final Outcomes & Evaluation

Process & experimentation?

My general basic process of exploring formal elements of visual language was to draw out my icons and experiment with different mediums from workshops and then transition to digital. Going from loose mediums like pencil to very deliberate and intentional mediums that are very unforgiving like illustrator can be tough because and I found that I lost a lot of character from my sketches, but I tried my best to add that back with some loose negative space.

why did black and white end up better?

black and white ended up better because it was more simple and gave the viewer less information to absorb making it easier to read.

what were the aims of the brief?

The Aims of the brief were to create 6+ icons for Colchester Zoo that could communicate the animals and would help for navigation on signage. In addition to this, the icons had to be universally recognisable so that a person of any age would be able to understand the information. And Lastly the icons had to be consistent and uniform not only

practical sense

design sense

Did I meet the Aims & objectives from the brief?

Although I feel like I met the aim of the brief I also feel that i made my icons a little too complicated and difficult. From a normal distance they’re fairly readable, but when I shrink them down to simulate distance for navigation they become harder to read and this is a problem as my icons should convey information even at a small scale. One thing i will do next time when creating icons is stay simple and try to find a sweet spot with detail and readability.

Context

Otl Aicher WW2 was limited to only black and white because getting other colours was too hard or they were just unavailable. When it comes to Susan Kare she was a female in a predominately male industry and designing for the Apple Mac as it was just coming to the front of the tech industry.

Lion

The mane didn’t communicate correctly and this ended up making the lion harder to read. In addition to this the angle made it harder as it broke the silhouette and i need to get the negative space correct, but if i was to create the lion again i would bunch the mane together a bit more so that it doesn’t seem as stylised and keeps the icon uniform and linked to my other final outcomes.

Fish

For my fish icon I wanted to experiment with what a group of animals would look like and if it would affect this icons readability. Ultimately in the end i think it did end up effecting the icons and how they read at a small scale or at a distance.

Giraffe

I really liked how my giraffe developed over time and how I experimented with space to emphasise how they would tower over a human. Additionally, this is the only icon of mine that colour ended up working on and I think its because the pattern and the angle work in harmony to communicate the space, but in black and white the gap between the two front legs gets lost and this takes away from the sense of space.

Horse

My horse icon ended up being the most dynamic of all my icons as it looks like its running forward with its hair flowing in the wind because I used the pen tool to try and keep the sketch characteristics from my early developments. The hair isn't laying flat on the horses neck and head is horizontal giving the icon some movement. Additionally, the front right leg is extending forward, while the front left leg is down and out of frame and this contributes to adding movement into my final outcome. Horses are know for their speed and strength so I’m really happy i was able to communicate this in the final outcome.

Conclusion

why?

Make examples of my icons to give examples of navigation.

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calorieworkouts · 5 years

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Water Exercises : Burn Calories and Get Fit in Pool

If pushing on your own with a hot sweaty exercise in your neighborhood health club does not appeal, why not supplement your walking strategies and also house exercises with a visit to your regional pool.

Swimming is just one of the very best complete body tasks if you are an excellent swimmer. If swimming is not your specialty and also you just tend to doggy-paddle your breaststroke whilst attempting not to obtain your hair damp, after that probably there might be other alternatives to consider.

The problem with suggesting swimming as a reliable exercise presents a couple of issues describes star fitness instructor as well as fitness author, Matt Lawrence. 'Physicians will typically encourage swimming as an exceptional means to get fit,' claims Matt, 'that's fine if you have a fantastic swimming strategy as your body will certainly be aligned as well as your breathing will be consistent.

The problem starts, when your technique is not good as you will most likely more than expanding your back whilst trying not to get your hair wet as well as this can exacerbate back pain in time.' He continues, 'rather than swimming, why not incorporate aqua jogging with some water exercises or perhaps attempt an aqua course.'

Aqua jogging is just to run from one foot to the other across the swimming pool. You can select exactly how deep you wish to function in sloping pools and also just jog sizes or for same depth swimming pools just jog up and down the length.

Alternately for an extra extreme exercise attempt aqua running in deep water, to ensure that you are drifting however go across the swimming pool width methods a modified running/treading water action. The buoyancy impacts of water suggest that much less stress is put on the bones and also joints as well as so working out in the water is exceptional for the obese or obese or for any person with muscular, joint or spine injuries.

' If you still enjoy your swim but your technique implies you tire promptly,' Matt encourages 'why not swim for one length and afterwards 'aqua jog' back and also repeat for 20-30 sizes to add variant and strength to your exercise?' Yet along with jogging in the swimming pool you might likewise include some conditioning exercises.

The advantage being that you can work as hard or very easy as you want. Carrying out any activity in water triggers resistance from the water as you move with it - the faster you try as well as move, the greater the resistance.

Also the surface will affect the resistance, for instance slicing with the water with an open hand is much simpler than with a clenched fist or if you cupped your palm, with fingers together. The bigger the surface, the more challenging it will be to move that things with the water. Additionally activities with straight arms or legs will certainly likewise be harder as a result of the increased lever length used.

Maintaining your balance can occasionally be difficult depending on where you store fat. Guy have a tendency to save even more fat around their waists and also upper body whereas ladies tend to be more pear-shaped and usually save much more fat on the legs and also butts and also around their hips and also this can influence your body placement when relocating in the water.

Upper body fat shops can trigger the legs to sink when in a horizontal placement, yet those that keep fat on their legs and also hips often have a hard time to preserve an upright position, particularly in much deeper water.

Certain equipment can be made use of in aquatic exercise to aid buoyancy, enhance your grasp to the swimming pool flooring and also make motions harder by boosting the surface location you are moving.

- ' Gravity'/ Buoyancy Vests Buoyancy vests assist you survive in deep water. They are worn around the upper body and make it less complicated to execute deep-water workouts without needing to stress over sinking.

- Aqua Dumbbells or Floats These foam or polystyrene floats frequently shaped like a dumbbell can be pushed via or under the water to boost the strength of the movement as a result of the boosted surface area volume.

- Aqua Shoes Aqua footwear offer excellent traction on the pool floor, offering you a much better grip and also are particularly helpful when you alter direction of movement or need to stop quickly.

Following are the most effective water workouts to obtain in form:

Rocking Horse

Stand in the water at in between waistline and also breast height, with one foot elevated in front of you with your weight on your rear leg.

Push off your front leg to 'jump' back onto your back foot, increasing your front knee as you land.

Continue this shaking action and also gradually increase your range of activity as you 'rock' back and also forth.

After 15-20 'rocks', transform your leg setting so that your front and also back legs are reversed and also repeat.

Single Arm Punches

Stand in water at upper body or shoulder elevation as well as hold an aqua pinhead under the water, in your appropriate hand following to your right shoulder.

Keeping the float under the water, support your abdominal as well as expand your arm in a punching action.

At complete extension, pull it back in the direction of your shoulder as well as repeat.

Initially maintain the activity sluggish but develop rate to raise the intensity and discover one of the most comfortable stance to aid your balance.

Allow motion from your upper body however keep this marginal, being mindful not to over-rotate.

Perform 15-30 'strikes' making certain not to lock the arm before exchanging hands as well as duplicating with your left arm.

Pull-Downs

Stand as previously, in water at shoulder level holding an aqua pinhead or float.

Hold the float at arms' length in your right-hand man with the float on the surface area of the water, after that maintaining your stomach braced as well as your upper body upright pull the float down toward your waist in an arc activity with your arm somewhat bent.

Then return the arm back to the surface at rate. If done gradually the buoyancy impact will certainly make part this very easy, yet when performed at speed, the surface location of the float will certainly give resistance and also the frontal shoulder muscular tissues are required to function as well as the back, arm and also abdominal muscular tissues for the other direction.

Aim for 10-20 repeatings before transforming hands as well as duplicating with the float in your left hand.

Alternate Bear Hugs

Stand in water at upper body height with arms bent on the side yet in the water.

With stomach supported sweep your right arm inwards in a big arc to go across the center of your body utilizing your chest muscular tissues vigorously at rate, pressing the water throughout your body to the front.

Then gradually lower the arm as well as permit it to move gradually back out to the beginning placement with much less force as you perform the very same strong embracing activity with your left arm.

Repeat these rotating embracing motions in big sweeping actions, maintaining your torso upright and without twisting.

Perform 20-30 hugs in total amount, guaranteeing your arms are somewhat curved as you execute the hugging movement.

Jumping Jacks

Stand with water at breast elevation with both feet with each other and also arms by your sides.

Jump up, dividing your legs to land with your feet a little wider than shoulder size apart and also bringing your arms expanded bent on the sides at shoulder height.

Then raise once more, this moment returning your arms to your sides as well as legs with each other as you land.

Repeat these leaping jacks for 20-30 repetitions.

Trunk Rotations

Stand in the water at upper body or shoulder level with your hands clasped together, outstretched before you with abdominal braced.

Rotate with your waistline, preserving an upright stance, relying on your left side with your arms outstretched forcing your arms via the water.

On getting to complete turning, reverse the various other method to your right to complete rotation.

Perform 15-20 dual arm trunk turnings starting slowly as well as enhance in rate for enhanced intensity.

Deep Water Twist-Ups

Use floats or a buoyancy vest to aid you stay afloat in deep water.

Pull your knees in towards your upper body, twisting a little so that you pull your knees up and to one side prior to reducing and duplicating to the other side.

Initially begin at a moderate rate and increase according to capability and also health and fitness level.

Perform 20-30 twist-ups, but be cautious not to turn from your reduced back or turn the hips excessively.

Pull-Through

Roll forwards to the front with your legs outstretched behind you, encountering the water surface in a near horizontal position.

Use your arms in a 'sculling' action to keep your position.

Then draw your knees in to your breast and also swiftly move your arms together in an arc to give you the propulsion essential to rock yourself onto your back, encountering upwards.

Extend the legs bent on the front with your toes up and arms on your side, sculling to aid you remain afloat.

Then draw your knees up as well as tip forwards to shake onto your front again as well as prolong your legs out behind you.

Aim to change positions 10-20 times keep control of motion throughout

Thanks for analysis. Hope you liked these post about water workouts and its health advantages. Do not fail to remember to share, because sharing is caring.

#exercise #fitness #fitness instructor #fitness jobs #get fit #health #health and fitness #health club #weight

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