haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted · 6 months ago
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Dwarf Miner Concept Art by David Gallagher
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gwynndolin · 4 days ago
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Every new week on the Satisfactory subreddit brings us a new post asking about what the point of the automated miner recipe is
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townpostin · 3 months ago
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NIT Jamshedpur Hosts National Workshop on Advances in Mineral Processing
Week-long training on iron ore and coal mineral processing concludes with insightful discussions and certificate distribution. The Metallurgical and Materials Engineering Department of NIT Jamshedpur concluded its week-long short-term training and national workshop on "Advances in Mineral Processing Techniques with Special Reference to Iron Ore and Coal (AMPTIC-24)" today. JAMSHEDPUR – NIT…
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justanotherbirdbrain-blog · 9 months ago
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A Workshop for Creating Magical/ Fictional Crystals: A Guide from a Geologist
Hi folks, its me, here to talk about fictional writing again! Today I'm just tackling the idea of magical stones/mana stones by looking at existing minerals today and some neat properties that they have, and how you can apply these things to a fictional world. The goal is mainly to help you if you are stuck trying to come up with a unique magic system, or a unique identification/characteristic of your mineral.
First Things First: Mineral Shapes
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I am exhausted, petered out, down-right fatigued by seeing every mineral depicted with having the crystal structure of calcite and quartz. There are soooooo many cooler, more interesting crystal structures, don't you think you would stop and take a look at a perfect cube in nature? It is completely unsettling.
Second: Color
Color within minerals can either be really important, or not important at all! It is your choice to decide if color is going to be something that means something to your mineral. But what are some times when the color is important? Well.... there are some elements that are called chromophores, this classification just indicates that these elements, when present, will determine the color of whatever they are in. So, if you wanted to treat mana like a chromophore, you could say, "Oh everything that contains mana turns green!" This could mean that regardless of the mineral, if that mineral is a specific color, it means it contains mana. This concept is exciting because you can just stop here and use minerals that already exist! You can also use it as an indicator for a magical ore! Chromophores are typically metals, so if you are making a new metal weapon, making the ore of that metal a unique color would make a lot of sense!
However, your mineral can also just be every color of the rainbow like quartz and perhaps that's what makes identifying your mana stones elusive and create an illusion of scarcity that your character can solve.
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There are other things that can change the colors of minerals, like radiation damage, and electron exchange, but I think that is beyond what would be helpful! So lets talk about some unique color properties that happen in nature that seem magical in the first place! Maybe you don't need to design a mana stone, but you want a unique gemstone that only the royal family passes down or something (IDK).
The first one is the alexandrite effect! This is where a mineral can change color in natural light vs. incandescent light. (the mineral itself is not changing, but the lights contain different amounts of different colors that then get absorbed by the stone). Even if you don't use electricity in your fictional world, you could have the colors change in the presence of light magic. This could create fun misunderstandings about what the mineral is reacting to!
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Pleochroism
Pleochroism is something that most minerals have, it is frequently used to help identify minerals in thin sections, however minerals are usually not pleochroic enough for it to be visible to the naked eye! Pleochroism is just a fancy name to describe the change in how light is absorbed based on the angle of the mineral! So if you scroll up to the first image where I showed a lot of crystal shapes, most of them have angles where they are longer and shorter! This will effect the way light travels in the crystal. Tanzanite is a popular mineral that does this.
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Photochromism
This is when a mineral will change color (in a reversible way) when exposed to UV light (or sunlight), I am not going to go too into the details of why this is happening because it would require me to read some research papers and I just don't feel like it. The mineral that is best known for this is Hackmanite!
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Alright! These are all the really cool color effects that might inspire you or maybe not, but now I am going to talk about how you might find your minerals within a rock!
When I see a lot of magical caves/mines, typically I see them with some variation of a geode honestly, but most minerals are not found like that! Now I am sure most of you guys have seen a geode, so I will not really talk about those, but I will talk briefly about porphyroblasts which is when the mineral grows larger than the minerals around it, this happens in metamorphic minerals!
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sorry random stranger, but this is an image of garnets inside a finer-grained rock at gore mountain in New York!
Another way you might find minerals is in a pegmatite! This is when all minerals are really large! This is a formed from really slow crystalizing magma!
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But something else to think about is that your mineral might just be massive, it doesn't have to have distinct crystals, it may be similar to jadeite where small grains grow together which leaves it looking smooth and seamless! A note about all of these is that you would have to mine into the rock to find these, there would not be any natural caves in these rocks! Caves are only ever really formed in limestones and maybe marbles (rocks that react with acid).
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How can your characters identify these minerals?
Typically when you are out in the field you will look to see what type of rocks the minerals are found in (The overall texture of the rock will tell you how it formed). If you know how the rock formed, it will narrow down the amount of minerals you need to think about by quite a bit! Next, you are going to look closely at it and observe its crystal structure, does it have an obvious crystal? if so what is the general shape? If it is broken, how did it break? Did it fracture like glass or did it break along uniform planes. Some minerals have a thing called cleavage (breaks along planes of weakness). If a mineral exhibits this habit, it will again help narrow this down. Next we can look at color. Color can be misleading, because minerals like quartz can be any color imaginable, but minerals like olivine will always be green! The next thing your character can do is test for hardness, minerals all have a specific hardness that can help identify it as well.
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After you go through all of this, your mineral might have some special property! This could be magnetism, fluorescence, reactions to acid, or any of the color changing effects I mentioned above! Other than that, your character can take it back to a lab and do a number of things to identify it, but the most typical thing would be for them to make a thin section (very thin piece of the rock) and observe it under a cross polarized microscope!
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On that note folks! I hope this helped in some way in thinking of new magic mineral properties! I have other guides that explore some different fictional worldbuilding issues you might run into, but if you have any topics you would like me to cover please that I haven't mentioned already, let me know!
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kaylinchiao · 2 years ago
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好久沒上畫畫課,這次是一對一的教學, 其實我心裡是有點緊張的,卻有些許期待, 感謝前來上課的同學,願意信任我的帶領! 從完全不了解水彩,到獨立完成一幅作品, 內心充滿了綻放的喜悅與快樂! 因為我不認為自己是個優秀的教學者, 但我在繪畫上曾經也遇到許多問題與困難, 我相信初學者遇到的狀況, 我多數已經遇到過了, 才能將自己的心得與解套分享給大家。 那天我們相談勝歡, 課程間非常輕鬆、愉悅 同學願意問我許多問題, 並享受在繪畫的過程, 能夠讓一個人獲得水彩繪畫的快樂, 感覺自己已經完成了最大的成就! 尤其是事後同學私訊給我滿滿的回饋, 還分享去美術店選購工具, 以及事後回家自己練習的作品, 都讓我感到欣慰和滿足~ 感恩,我們能夠相遇,創造藝術~ 歡迎對水彩插畫有興趣者約課/邀課 三人以上開班,也有一對一教學 客製化繪畫內容,意者請私~ #art #watercolor #drawing #painting #illustrate #illustration #quartz #crystals #minerals #starrynight #energyart #workshop #artclass #taipei #手繪 #插畫 #水彩 #礦石 #水晶 #星空 #能量藝術 #視覺療癒 #繪畫課程 #工作坊 #水彩教學 #巫心幻畫 #植心畫 (at 飛耀身心靈空中花園) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmTSZYKvrwz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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mesetacadre · 2 months ago
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Palace of the Republic, Berlin
The right to work at a job of one’s own choice was guaranteed by the East German constitution (Aus erster Hand, 1987). While there were some (mostly alcoholics) who continuously refused to show up for jobs offered by the state, their numbers represented only about 0.2% of the entire East German work force, and only 0.1% of the scheduled work hours of the rest of the labor force was lost due to unexcused absences (Krakat, 1996). These findings are especially noteworthy, given that people were generally protected from being fired (or otherwise penalized) for failing to show up for work or for not working productively (Thuet, 1985). The importance of the communist characteristic of full employment to workers is reflected in a 1999 survey of eastern Germans that indicated about 70% of them felt they had meaningfully less job security in the unified capitalist country in the 1990s than they did in communist East Germany (Kramm, 1999)
The Triumph of Evil, A. Murphy (2002)
The GDR had more theatres per capita than any other country in the world and in no other country were there more orchestras in relation to population size or territory. With 90 professional orchestras, GDR citizens had three times more opportunity of accessing live music, than those in the FRG, 7.5 times more than in the USA and 30 times more than in the UK. It also had one of the world’s highest book publishing figures. This small country with its very limited economic resources, even in the fifties was spending double the amount on cultural activities as the FRG. Every town of 30,000 or more inhabitants in the GDR had its theatre and cinema as well as other cultural venues. [...] Subsidised tickets to the theatre and concerts were always priced so that everyone could afford to go. Many factories and institutions had regular block-bookings for their workers which were avidly taken up. School pupils from the age of 14 were also encouraged to go to the theatre once a month and schools were able to obtain subsidised tickets. [...] All towns and even many villages had their own ‘Houses of Culture’, owned by the local communities and open for all to use. These were places that offered performance venues, workshop space and facilities for celebratory gatherings, discos, drama groups etc. There was a lively culture of local music and folk-song groups, as well as classical musical performance.
Stasi State or Socialist Paradise? The German Democratic Republic and What Became of It, Bruni de la Motte and John Green (2015)
Work itself was elevated to a place of pride and esteem and, even if you were in a lower paid job, you were valued for the work you did as a necessary contribution to the functioning of society. The socialist countries were also designated ‘workers’ states and it was not merely an empty phrase when the GDR government argued that the workers, who produced the commodities that society needed, should be placed at the forefront of society. Those who did heavy manual work, like miners or steel workers, enjoyed certain privileges: better wages and health care than those in less strenuous or dangerous professions. The GDR had one of the most comprehensive workers’ rights legislation of any other country in the world. From 1950 onwards, there was a guaranteed right to work. This right applied to everybody, including disabled people and those with criminal records. Employers were made responsible for the training and integration of everyone. This meant that everybody felt they had a place in society and were needed. This was particularly important for disabled people and those who wanted a new start in life after being convicted of a crime. Working people were under a much more relaxed discipline in the workplace. Because there was job security and it was almost impossible to be sacked, an authoritarian discipline was difficult, if not impossible, to achieve. In Western countries work discipline is invariably enforced by the implicit threat of job loss. In the GDR, only in cases of serious misconduct or incompetence would employees be sacked. There were individual cases where employees were sacked illegally for what was considered ‘oppositional’ or ‘anti-state behaviour’, but usually the sanction would involve demotion or being transferred to a different workplace. This job security gave employees a sense of confidence and a considerable power in the workplace. It meant that workers could and would voice criticism over inefficiencies or bad management without having to fear for their job. Job security and lack of fear about losing it was probably one of the greatest advantages the socialist system offered working people. Even in cases where a worker was sacked from one job, other alternative work would be offered, even if not on the same level. The other side of the coin was that there was also a social obligation to work - the GDR had no system of unemployment benefit, because the concept of unemployment did not exist.
Stasi State or Socialist Paradise? The German Democratic Republic and What Became of It, Bruni de la Motte and John Green (2015)
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headspace-hotel · 5 months ago
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Dwarf fortress update: world #2
This is going much better since now I know what I'm doing with administrating tasks. My population is at 75 and dwarves mostly happy (or at least neutral) now that i have the food and alcohol running more or less automatically
My strategy for keeping the dwarves happy is basically to just browse through their thoughts and figure out what they would like to have/do.
A lot of them get unhappy when "remembering trauma." Too bad "therapist" isn't one of the workshops.
I have literally thousands of raw mussels. I haven't seen a body of water nearby except for "murky pool". Where are they coming from??
If you make stepladders, the dwarves use them to pick fruit off the trees! I have a tropical biome this time so there is a huge abundance of fruit.
I have a yak herd going and I just kill most of the bulls periodically for fresh meat.
My dwarf children keep getting kidnapped????
The stockpile system is fucking CURSED.
The amount of feeding stockpiles into other stockpiles I have to do in order to get a smelter running let alone forge weapons? Horrible
I was using bins to make items stack, and my weapons stockpile had a bin in it.
After about 3 in-game years had passed, for some reason mining and tree chopping orders just...stopped working. Like the tiles would just stay highlighted for eternity.
This persisted for like. 2 more years in game. I figured out quickly that part of the problem was that all of the axes and pickaxes were gone. I had no idea why. I tried all manner of convoluted looney tunes bullshit to try to make new ones without any wood for charcoal and without the ability to mine anything else. I demolished the wagon for wood, but my dumb ass forgot about the work orders I had set and the wood was immediately converted into doors. So next I demolished all the carpenter shops. It was not enough wood.
Eventually I ended up just buying a bunch of wood from the trading caravan and after a protracted battle with my interrelated network of stockpiles, smelted iron bars. Then set the metalsmith to make axes and picks.
The work orders ran just fine. The mining and chopping still wasn't working. I went to my stocks and tracked the location of the new weapons and was led to a wooden bin in the weapons stockpile.
How. do you REMOVE. WEAPONS. FROM THE BIN
For around half an hour I experimented with stockpiles, attempting to force the bin to disgorge its contents. I made and destroyed many different stockpiles with different settings. When the weapons bin was forced into a stockpile that didn't accept bins, it didn't release its contents, instead it became invisible and somehow stacked underneath a different item in the stockpile.
Finally, I figured out the workaround: I made a garbage dump, went into the contents of the bin and marked each individual weapon within as garbage. I'm pretty sure I marked the bin itself as "forbidden?" Anyway after the whole thing was in the garbage, I un-garbaged the weapons one by one, made another weapons stockpile that didn't accept bins, and after fucking with it for a while I liberated the weapons from the Bin of No Return (which stayed forbidden and in the garbage)
At some point in the process all the weapons ended up forbidden and somehow stacked together in one tile. I had to manually unforbidden all of them and destroy and remake stockpiles and garbage dumps several times.
Mining and chopping orders STILL AREN'T WORKING
I try manually equipping pickaxes and axes to dwarves under the "squads" tab. No dice.
Finally. FINALLY. I go into the dwarves' jobs and set it so the miners can ONLY mine EXCLUSIVELY and set some dwarves to be locked into wood cutting as well. This, on top of everything else, fixes the problem.
Don't use bins. Got it.
A cyclops randomly attacked my fortress. I hadn't trained my military or anything so I was worried it would do a lot of damage, but my dwarves killed it pretty much instantly
I saw under the "engrave memorial slab" tab that there was an option to engrave a memorial slab to the cyclops. Which I did, just in case.
I found an underground cavern. Since I found the underground cavern I have been getting "petitions" every 5 minutes with adventurers volunteering to come kill monsters. I have like 12 of them in my fortress now.
Also a bunch of mushrooms are growing up into the areas of my fortress with dirt floors, and several of them can be farmed as underground crops??? I have a room in my fortress that grows "cave wheat" now
i'm guessing the next step is to train my military but idk where to start with that
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regal-bones · 1 year ago
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SWORDTEMBER DAY 26 : ARTIFICER
The Mechanic’s Heart, of trapped voice and digital soul 👾📀 “Endelswitch? Zachariah Endelswitch? Yeah, I knew him, way back when. One of the best tinkerers in all of Chalke and, let me tell you, that’s quite the achievement. He made some of the biggest leaps when it came to the automation of the mines. You’ve probably seen a Cliffbiter mining blade before right? One of the wonderful Endelswitch inventions. I wonder what else he would have made if it weren’t for, you know. His untimely disappearance. The worst part about it is he was so secretive! No one knows where his workshop was, so think of the unfinished projects that will never see the light of day. Apparently his last experiments were into the idea of consciousness transfer - he thought that if he could put the mind of a miner into a mechanical body, furnished with all the equipment you might need, he could save countless lives from cave ins, demolition mishaps, the whole like. Who knows? Maybe he’s still in his workshop to this day tinkering away. I hope he knows how many lives he’s changed with that brilliant mind of his.”
I've had this design sitting around for a while !!! Decided to finish it up for today’s prompt because I think it fit!
Yesterday’s sword!
You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!
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tiredwitchplant · 1 year ago
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The Library MEGA POST!
Hwello. This is a mega post of every information we have so far and where links to new information will be added. This is so chu can get to the information quickly and it will be more organized in this space.
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Herbs
Wormwood
Mandrake
Lavender
Clary Sage
Belladonna
Yarrow
Pennyroyal
Patchouli
Culinary Herbs
Garlic
Basil
Dill
Rosemary
Thyme
Bay Leaf
Cinnamon
Ginger
Veggies and Fruits
Russet Potatoes
Apples
Pumpkins
Cranberries
Crystals
Black Obsidian
Amethyst
Tiger's Eye
Lapis Lazuli
Peridot
Bloodstone
Carnelian
White Moonstone
Chrysoprase
Miscellaneous
How to Use Rosemary
How to Use Basil
How to Use Lavender
How to Use Mandrake
Water and Plants
How to Celebrate Samhain!
Sources
Plant Witchery by Juliet Diaz
Complete Language of Herbs by S. Theresa Dietz
Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs Scott Cunningham
The Herbal Alchemist Handbook by Karen Harrison
The Modern Witchcraft Guide to Magickal Herbs by Judy Ann Nock
The Green Witch by Arin Murphy-Hiscock
Herb Magic by Patti Wigington
Encyclopedia of Herbal Medicine by Andrew Chevallier
The Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells by Judika Illes
Dictionary of Plant Lore by Donald Watts
The Magick of Food by Gwion Raven
The Complete Language of Food by S. Theresa Dietz
Nature Guide, Rocks and Minerals - DK Publishing
Guide to Crystal Grids- Transform Your Life Using the Power of Crystal Layouts - Judy Hall
Crystals- A complete guide to crystals and color healing - Jennie Harding
The Crystal Witch - Leanna Greenaway
The Crystal Bible - Judy Hall
The Zenned Out Guide to Understanding Crystals - Cassie Uhl
The Crystal Workshop - Azalea Lee
Crystals for Witches - Rituals Spells and More - Eliza Mabelle
More will be added as information is added to the little library. Remember you can support this library by tipping and maybe a pateron in the future.
Thank chu. Bye byes~
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tornado1992 · 8 months ago
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Sonic and The Black Knight AU in which Sonic’s from that world, he’s an explorer of some sorts and he does technically live in Camelot with his brother Miles, but he spends most of his time traveling around and getting new stuff for his brother to weld and forge with.
One day while returning to Camelot and looking for minerals or cool rocks he finds a sword in a stone, great! New materials for his brother! he can surely make something better than this old blade or upgrade it.
He takes the sword out effortlessly. The sword can talk. Great(?
He brings the weapon to the town, people start to notice the obvious magical artifact and voice goes around about “the legend being fulfilled”.
Oh, that legend. Yeah, no.
He just wants to show his little brother a cool sword, not become ruler of a whole kingdom thank you very much, it doesn’t matter if he “fulfilled the sacred prophecy”, it’s just a rumor until he decides it isn’t. And he doesn’t want it to not be a rumor.
Rumors travel fast, but he is faster.
The talking sword started doubting if he was worthy of the throne after spending no more than an hour around him, not shutting up about how “you’re already running from your kingdom and you haven’t been crowned yet”. Good. Maybe he could convince the sword to tell the people he would make a terrible king if the disdain in its voice gave anything off.
They arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, his brother’s shop, he shush’s the sword down as his brother runs to hug him, instantly pulling away at the sight of the weapon, his twin tails happily wagging gentle circles behind him as he asks Caliburn (what a name) anything and everything that there is to know as a talking sword. Caliburn just asks him why does Sonic call him “Tails” (nice try of a joke mate).
The very rude sword being perplexed about how someone as “reckless and careless” as him has “such a brilliant child in his care”.
Well, not a pretty mineral or shiny rock, but a talking sword seems interesting enough to make his brother happily ramble almost all night long, taking karma in his name as he wears Caliburn’s ear(?) off as he did with him.
Well, he could tell the kid all about his latest adventure in the morning, right now he could focus on cooking his brother a new dinner dish with spices from his latest travel destiny. A small bedtime story (about the knight’s of the round table by Carliburn’s request) and a few ear scratches later and you got a snuggled sleeping fox kit ready for the night.
The sword stays near them, looking at every move Sonic made, as if analyzing him in confusion. What a rude weapon, he might not be good king material but he’s peak big brother material.
He might not have enough on him to give his brother a bigger workshop or expensive materials, but he will give him everything he has if it means keeping him happy, they may not live in a big castle or have fancy dinners every night, but he swore from the moment he met the fox that he would do everything in his power to keep him safe.
As long as his big bro was around, he would never go hungry again, he would never sleep outside again and no one would hurt him again. He won’t ever feel unloved again.
Sonic might not be able to give him the world, but he’ll give him everything else.
His little brother’s sleeping form slightly trembles in his tiny bed, curling himself in his small blanket, covering his body with his fluffy tails, (sometimes Sonic thinks he’s more “Tails than “Miles”, pun intended). it’s been kinda cold lately, their humble home not making much favors to keep them warm even with the forge still on, but he doesn’t think he’s trembling because of the cold.
It’s okay, he didn’t wanted to sleep in his makeshift bed today anyway, he’s been away from his brother for enough time and he doesn’t mind staying right beside him to fight the little fox’s nightmares away and sharing their warmth for comfort. He nuzzles beside him, the kit instinctively moving to hug him and hide his face on the crook of the hedgehog’s neck, gentle purring and soft humming filling the silence of the night.
The next morning Caliburn greets him loudly “Good morrow, king Sonic”
Hell.
He doesn’t know what could’ve changed Caliburn’s opinion on him from one moment to another, but now thanks to that he has knights kneeling before him, the royal wizard offering him their nation’s secrets, a talking sword lecturing him all day long about “a king’s duty and heart”, and the whole kingdom practically demanding him to rule.
It’s not a very tempting idea to say the least. Organizing diplomacy gatherings, hosting balls and knighting warriors is not really his thing, and hell, the kingdom wants it to be his thing.
He offers the throne to whoever wins a crusade? “the winner must defeat his majesty first”. He tries to put back the sword in the stone? “The sword chose you, my liege, it is your destiny”. He tries to show the high commands how bad of a kind he would be? “His majesty is such a humble king, even in all his might”.
So, so eager to make him king. They tried to drag him to the castle so he could “know his new home”. They offered him to make changes to royalty’s way to make it “enough of his way”. They showed him the perks of having power, “a king does as he pleases”.
But what could he really offer them as a king? He can fight bad guys and make allies for sure, but even if he wanted to, would that be enough?
He kinda regrets not spending enough time around the kingdom before, maybe if he did and the people actually knew him they wouldn’t be so insistent on him of all people being king, talking magical sword be damned.
His brother knows what’s going on, he keeps mostly quiet about it, not wanting to disturb the hedgehog with the subject when he actively is trying to avoid it, his only opinion about it being shown a few nights after his return to their home. He’s tucking the fox in for the night, Caliburn silently watching them from the other side of the room, a sleepy squeaky voice fading with a yawn in a last effort to reassure his big brother while he runs his finger’s trough the fox’s bangs.
“You could give this kingdom anything… you already gave the world to me”
That’s all it takes.
Alright, he’ll be their king, but he will not sit on a fancy chair all day, won’t have a personal army following him around and definitely won’t be educated in “proper royalty manners”, you want him to be the king? The king does as he pleases.
The high council or whatever can take care of the bureaucracy, alliances and all the boring stuff, they’ll have the control over most of the kingdom (just how they like it, right?)
His first decree? Right after his coronation, the only time he actually stays in the throne room longer than five minutes, he actually wears his crown, he’s bearing the sacred sword when he calls his brother to the center of the room “I dub thee Miles “Tails” Prower, the crown prince of Camelot”.
He’s the king now, it’s only logical for his little brother to be the prince, the crown prince, direct heir to the kingdom’s throne.
He’s the prince, and the prince can get whatever the hell he desires, so bring him all the minerals and heavy armory, and show him the secret library! Little bro needs stimulation and there’s only so much he can do with a blacksmith’s mediums. His room? Bigger than the king’s! His food? Get him all the neighbor kingdom’s candy if he asks for it! His education? Give him all the books known in the world, get him all the minerals and bring his workshop inside the castle!
What he had was enough for his little brother before, but it might not be enough for him just yet. Time to give him the world that he already promised him.
Prince Miles does have a nice ring to it.
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somanyratsinthewalls · 1 year ago
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Kinktober Special Part 2
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Mo’s Kinktober Special
The Crew’s Whore (Part 2) (+18)
Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy. 
Pairing: Franky x afab!reader
WC: 3100 I'm so sorry
TW: IS THIS A SAFE SPACE?!?! Banging a robot, alcohol consumption oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, crying, forced orgasm? face shot, heavy use of pet names, cringe, his body is a sex toy idk, cringe, so much cringe, please forgive me I love him, idc
Chapter 1 Chapter 3
Robo-boning uder the cut:
Chapter 2: The Cyborg
It was a breezy evening aboard the Sunny as you sipped from your wine glass while leaning forward against the railing of the deck. Sanji had once again prepared the crew a fantastic meal and you felt full and comfortable with the cool sea wind blowing through your hair. It was late, most of the crew had returned to their quarters. Zoro was up in his crows nest dojo having a late night workout, Franky had returned to his workshop to fiddle with some new cannon technology, Luffy was in a food coma and snoring loudly laid up against the mast, and even Sanji had finished dishes with Robin’s help and excused himself to bed. Robin was always so helpful with the dishes with her Devil Fruit powers and all. 
You were alone out here with only the sounds of the waves crashing against the hull and your captain’s aggressive snoring. You thought about how you missed your old life, but also how happy you were with the Straw Hats. You loved your job at the brothel and it certainly was less dangerous… but this new life? It was… exhilarating. You loved it. 
*I think I need something stronger* you thought to yourself…
You looked at your empty wine glass and walked into the galley for something more exciting. It was spotlessly clean and empty. You opened up the liquor cabinet and perused your options. Vodka, tequila, gin, rum.. hmm… 
*It’s a pirate’s life for me, I guess.* You giggled and grabbed the bottle of spiced rum off the shelf. You realized that taking it straight from the bottle was a little barbaric for a late night solo cocktail and went to the fridge for a mixer. Orange juice, mineral water, nothing suitable to mix with rum. You wracked your brain, what would go well with rum?  A lightbulb went off in your brain, there’s an obvious choice. Cola! 
Rum and cola went together like peanut butter and jelly, like pancakes and syrup, like tea and honey. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a tasty drink… You knew there wasn’t any cola in the kitchen, but you knew exactly where it was. You filled a glass from the cabinet with ice and held it in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other. You pushed past the swinging galley door towards the hallway that went to the center of the ship. You skipped down a flight of stairs until you reached a wooden door marked with blue cartoonish stars. Blue lettering adorned the top of the doorway reading ‘Franky House.’ 
*So nostalgic of him* you chuckled to yourself before knocking twice. 
“What’s up?” You hear Franky’s booming voice from the other side of the door. You opened the door and sidled in with your glass and bottle in hand. 
“Oh heyyy pretty thing, what are you doing up at this hour?” Franky turned on his stool next to his workbench to look at you. 
“I could ask you the same thing.” You smiled at him as you strode confidently towards the fridge you spotted in the corner of his room. “Fancied myself a rum and cola, figured you’d be the guy to call about finding a bottle of cola around here.” 
“Yeah babe! Mi cola es su cola!” He flashed you a winning smile before he turned back towards his work bench and continued fiddling with whatever gadget he was working on before your intrusion. You grabbed a bottle of brown syrupy liquid from the fridge and brought it over to him. You said nothing, just pointed the head of the bottle in his direction. He barely looked up as he reached his large hard out and popped the cap off of the bottle for you. You smiled. 
“Thanks, handsome.” 
You returned to the desk in the middle of the room where you had set your rum and glass, setting the cola down. You picked up the rum and poured a GENEROUS amount over the ice. You topped it off with the freshly popped cola and brought the glass to your lips. Holy shit you over did it with the rum but damn, that’s good. You took a few more sips and let out a big sigh. 
“Rough day, sweet cheeks?” Franky laughed after hearing your exasperated sigh. 
“Hmm.. I guess. Just feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”
Franky’s hands continued to manipulate the mechanical item on his work bench.
“Yeah I get it. It happened to all of us, ya have this whole life and then all of a sudden you’re a pirate. It’s super weird. You’ll get used to it, y/n, we all do. We can talk about it, if ya like.” He doesn’t turn around. He had always been so good at expressing his emotions, such a tender and kind soul. He knew how you felt, and wanted you to feel heard. 
*Such a sweet heart for a robot* you thought to yourself. But he wasn’t a robot, he was still a man. Sure, his body was more metal than flesh at this point, but it didn’t take away from what a gentle spirit he had. You started to wonder what other human instincts he had left… 
“Honestly Frank? I’m kind of trying not to think about it. What are you working on?” You walk over to his work bench and lean up next to him, against the table backwards, able to see the item on the table but facing his body. 
“Oh this? Nothing totally crazy, just something I was thinking about for my forearm cannon. You see this part here…” He was excitedly telling you about his work, clearly passionate about his science. You nod and give him “hmm”’s here and there. You pour another strong drink and bring it back over to Franky’s work bench. You set the glass in front of him.
“I can’t be the only one indulging tonight, right?” You say seductively as you slide the glass towards his massive chest. 
“Well little lady, I’m usually a cola purist, but I guess one drink won’t hurt.” Franky grabs the glass in his large hand and slams the drink in one gulp. He hisses out, not prepared for how strong you made the cocktail. 
“My god girl, you’re trying to get me drunk?!”
You laugh out loud and pour yourself another drink. 
“No no, just trying to get more comfortable!” You laugh again. “Now tell me more about this hydraulic, fusion combustion, thingy again…” 
You say this as you set yourself down on Franky’s wide lap, drink in hand. 
“Okay so if you can see this piece right here…” Franky continued explaining his latest project to you as you became distracted by his handsome features. He had a strong, chilled jaw, defined abs, incredible thighs and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his swim briefs. Was it still real? Did he have anything or was he like a doll?
You let your thoughts get the better of you and you set your glass down on the workbench. You slid to your knees in between Franky’s spread legs and let your head rest on his thigh. 
“WoAAhhh sweet thing, something else on your mind?” He dropped what he was working on and lifted his sunglasses onto his head as he looked down at you. He leaned back. You giggled up at him while stroking his crotch slowly. 
“mmmm yes. How could I not wonder? I’ve thought about it so much. Never had someone like you before…” You drew your face closer to the growing bulge in his swim briefs as you palm him. 
“Are you sure? How much do you want it? It might be too much for ya, doll face…” Franky puts his large palm on the side of your face, seemingly a bit concerned. 
“I want it. I can take it, please show me.” Your fingers worked at the hem of his tight black speedo before he helped you bring it down to his ankles. You pull them all the way off and return to your kneeled position between his legs. 
“Wow…” 
His cock was so gorgeous. It had to be real. It was so long, thinner than you’d like, but the length was truly impressive. The base was decorated with tufts of blue hair. 
“Is this good for ya, babe? Tell me what ya like and I can make it happen." Franky stroked your hair as you were staring at his cock from between his knees. 
“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. Was he that confident in his sexual abilities? You felt your cunt clench in anticipation. 
“No, this," He nods his head down at his erect cock. "I can make it anything you want. Too big?” You stared up at him with wide eyes. 
“Want bigger? Maybe you’re a little size queen?” Franky smirked at you with those last words. 
“No no,” You stuttered out. “Could you… could you maybe make it a little… thicker?” You were so embarrassed, you felt so silly asking for this man to change up his own cock for you. 
“Of course doll, if you want to be stretched out real good, who am I to deny you?” Franky smiled as he pressed his metal nose. 
You stared at his erect penis as it became girthier right before your eyes. 
“No way…” You gasped quietly to yourself. 
“Yes way baby! You really thought I would rebuild my own body and not give myself an incredible dick?” He grinned down at you between his legs. “Now… where were we?”
You felt his hand gently push the back of your head towards his newly engorged cock. You were snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the thick length with both hands and began to pump it slowly. 
“Perfect….” Franky cooed at you as you stroked him. 
You leaned forward and took his tip into your mouth. He groaned loudly. You knew he would be loud, he always is, why would now be any different?
You gradually took more and more of his cock into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down. With each pull backwards you slurped and dragged your tongue across the bulbous head of his dick. 
“Fuck, shit, just like that…” He tried so hard not to ram his hips into your face, knowing it would scare you off. His body was too strong. 
“Shit baby… You’re way too good at this… get up here and let me stuff you.” 
Once again your pussy squeezed around nothing, pushing out a drip of your arousal. Franky leaned down and grabbed your hips to pull you upward. 
In a moment you were on your back on Franky’s workbench, his projects swept to the the floor with one brush of his huge forearm. He was man handling your body to pull all your clothes off of you. You lay back down on the table, now fully bare in front of him.
“Franky, fuck me. Please. I want it.” 
He hovered over you, massive body eclipsing yours. 
“And you’re sure? I told you it might be too much… Once I start… well it can just be a lot for someone who isn't used to it.” Franky asked you for the last time, making sure you knew what you were getting into. 
“Yes, Frank. I’m so sure.” 
He pushed you down forcefully, but you protested by rising to your elbows and catching his lips in a wet kiss. He accepted your kiss and forced his tongue past your spit covered lips. You groaned at his dominance, such a change from how you were used to being with your other lovers. 
After making out for several moments, you whined a bit too loudly when he pinched at your nipple. 
“Okay okay needy girl, I’ll give you what you want now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…” 
He pushes your thighs up with one hand as he lines his perfect cock up with your sopping hole with the other. He squeezes himself in slowly. 
“Holy FUCK, my GOD Franky…!” You shout out as he sinks balls deep inside of you, having you in a mating press with one hand due to his large stature. 
“Oh pretty lady, we haven’t even started.” He begin to pull out and shove himself back into your cunt, slick coating his cock more and more with each thrust. You slammed your eyes shut in pleasure, his dick was hitting all the perfect spots inside of you almost like it was made perfectly to fit your body… oh wait… it was. 
All of a sudden you felt a new sensation along with his heft length splitting you open. Was he… vibrating? Your neck snapped up and your eyes shot open to meet his above you. 
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. Had to add something for the ladies pleasure, right?”
“FRANKY!” Your body lurched forward and grabbed his biceps. You had never felt anything like this before. It’s like your body was lit up by electricity. The smooth drag of his vibrating cock against your g-spot was complete sensory overload. 
Franky chuckled. He continued railing into your tiny body, chasing his own pleasure, not worried that you’d reach yours. 
“Frank I’m going to-!” You yelped as your body tumbled over the edge in pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your spasming cunt pushed out your release all over your lovers abdomen and legs.
“Wow doll face, I never thought you’d be a squirter!” Franky laughed over you as he drilled his hips into yours further, not concerned about your recovery from your intense orgasm. Your body was limp in his hold now, not able to produce any sort of coherent phrase. 
“Franky wait, I feel like-Ah!“ 
You were cumming again. It was only a few moments after your last orgasm and your center was  squeezing and creaming on Franky’s thick robotic cock again. You had lost full control over your body, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You screamed. You had no idea what words you were trying to scream, but you screamed. 
“You like that, huh baby? How about one more for me? I think you can do it, right?” Tears streamed down your face as you laid on his workbench, boneless. Your cunt was throbbing in both pain and pleasure. You were being thrust into so forcefully that your body slid back and forth on the table, your breasts basically hitting you in the chin as they bounced so aggressively. 
“Mmmm.. Hmm. FUCK! Yes I can do it, I can take it!” You felt drunk on pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes focused. The sensations in your pussy were unlike anything you’d ever experienced. As your cyborg lover pounded into you at an impossible speed, you felt the familiar wave of pressure bubble up from your center, but this time far more intense than the others. 
“There it is baby, I can feel it, I knew you could do it for me sweet thing.” He coaxed you into tipping over the edge. Your back arched and you shrieked up at him. You vision went completely white for a moment as you felt your massive release splattering against Franky’s thighs and cock. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room as you felt your cunt start to tingle with numbness and overstimulation, 
“Can’t… it’s too much!”  You whine loudly at him as you make a feeble attempt to push at his abs, not entirely sure what you wanted yet. 
“That’s just fine doll face, I’ve got something else in mind anyway.” He flashes you a huge grin before grabbing you around your ribs and setting you down on your knees on the floor in front of him.
“Open wide, pretty lady!” He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail with one hand and stroked his massive cock in front of your face with the other. 
Obviously after 3 earth-shattering orgasms you were putty in his large hands. You stick your tongue out and look up at him. After seeing the makeup smeared on your face from spit and sweat and tears, there was no way he could hold back any longer. 
“Fuuuuuuuck…!” He groaned out as he painted your eager, wrecked face with simply so much cum. It dripped off your cheeks and your chin as you happily kept your mouth open for him. He finally finishes his release and taps his cock on your tongue, so you can taste the last bit. 
“Shit you look so super like this!” Franky beamed down at you covered in his thick cum. You grin back up at him, delirious from exhaustion, cum dribbling down your neck. “But I guess I can’t leave ya like that huh?” He grabbed a clean rag from a drawer in his workbench and started wiping his seed off your face, you were so exhausted your eyes fell closed and you held your head in his free hand. 
“Hold on hold on doll, I’m almost done then I’ll put ya to bed.” Franky finished cleaning your face and picked up up off your knees and set you down on his bed. He tucked you in and went to put back on the little clothing he had on in the first place. He moved towards the door of his room. 
“Well thanks for the break, little lady! I have a repair I need to finish up on the deck tonight, but you get some rest.” Franky says from over his shoulder on the way out to the rest of the ship. You close your eyes and relax your bruised and exhausted body into Franky’s mattress. 
"Hey, if you’re feeling up to it when I get back, we can have a round 2! You haven’t even seen half the super stuff I can do, I just went easy on you!” He shouted as he left the room with his toolbox and the door closed behind him. 
Your eyes snapped open.
“WHAT?!”
---
a/n I again, am so sorry lol but Franky needs more love. Justice for Franky Fuckers.
418 notes · View notes
rotworld · 29 days ago
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2: Spare Parts
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art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises
it seems like you end up stuck next to the same unsettling doll maker every year you attend the sheralothian festival of the arts. if you didn't know any better—if you didn't know him so well—you might assume it was just coincidence.
original work. suggestive but not explicit; contains extremely ambiguous consent, implied/briefly mentioned gore, dollification, fantasy plague.
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It’s no easy feat to reach Laurel Grove from the capital. The road is rough and pitted, hateful to wagon wheels. It twists through the mountains and descends into the treacherous fog of the Mistwalk Valley. Bandits, emboldened by newly thawed trade negotiations and a glut of incautious, overencumbered merchants, stalk the spaces between the trees. From caravan to campsite, a flock of apprentices have zealously guarded your crates of precious cargo. You’re tired, all of you, eager for beds, blankets and a proper meal, but also restless with anticipation. At the Sheralothian Festival of the Arts, you’ll make more money for your workshop in a few days than you will for the rest of the year, attracting new patrons and securing new contracts. 
The first of your apprentices to spot the sparkle of magic hollers in unabashed delight. The tapestry is a seamless weave of physical and metaphysical components, a shimmery material that blooms with sweet-smelling flowers in the daylight and sparkles luminescent beneath the moon. These adornments wrap around the trunks of trees and dangle from the canopy in thin ribbons, forming a path that guides you across bridges formed of mossy, gargantuan tree trunks and through leaf-canopy shaded streets. Laurel Grove, the Evergreen City, gradually unfolds all around you, not carved into the forest but melding with it.
One of your apprentices rushes off to secure a room at Fiora Falls, an inn tucked behind a waterfall. Another finds boarding for the horses. The rest follow you to the meadow fairgrounds where a ring of tents, stalls and tables has sprung up in a wide circle. You are late arrivals, having traveled further than most. Your fellow artists and craftsmen are happy to see you, exchanging embraces and well-wishes. A space has been saved for you not far from the meadow’s entrance. The apprentices get the crates open, setting up shelves, tables and a canopy. The display on your left belongs to Veta, a woodcarver from the south. She has amber eyes and thickly muscled arms littered with old scars. She waves when she sees you. On your right—
“There, there, darling. Don’t be nervous.” 
You freeze. All of your joy and excitement withers and dies because on your right is Medraut. 
You consider leaving. You shouldn’t. Can’t, really. But the thought occurs to you. Packing up, turning around, and making the long journey home without a single sale. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. No. He won’t ruin this for you. You focus on helping the apprentices, unpacking fresh flowers, minerals and round jars packed full of colorful dust. Your pigments are the finest in Sheralothia. They’re on temple ceilings and canvases hung in palace halls, staining the palettes of the world’s most renowned painters.
Greta, one of the newer apprentices, glances around in awe at the works of leatherworkers, glassblowers and luthiers from distant lands. Inevitably, her gaze is drawn to Medraut and his eclectic display: heavy tomes. Bows and ribbons. Syringes. Small bowls of cosmetic pigments. Cloudy vials of condensed magic in both smooth liquid and thick ichor. Sewing kits. Everything is arranged around a life-size doll at the front and center, sitting stiffly upright with stocking-clad legs dangling off the edge of the table. It’s undeniably beautiful. Dressed in an asymmetric frilly ensemble, its dainty hands are folded one over the other in its lap, nails neatly trimmed and painted. It has a listless expression, lips pursed and painted orchid purple, neither smiling nor frowning. Glassy lavender eyes are accentuated by long lashes and dabs of glittering blush on the cheeks, half-lidded gaze staring at nothing in particular. 
“Hush now,” Medraut murmurs. He tucks a stray lock of hair back into place, looping it behind the shell of the doll’s ear. He caresses its face with the back of his hand in slow, soft strokes, the way one touches a lover. “Yes, I know. You dislike the spotlight. But you’re perfect.”
“Greta,” you say sternly. She flinches, scurrying back to your side with a sheepish expression. “Guests will be arriving at any moment and we’re not finished setting up. Let’s not get distracted just yet.” 
“Of course!” she stammers. You offer a smile to reassure her when she rejoins the other apprentices, sifting through pigments and materials to find the most eye-catching objects worthy of display. She’s soon drawn into a gossip huddle with the others, voices lowered, nervous glances thrown around. You don’t stop them. Better she hears it now, however twisted by hearsay and urban legend, than later. You try to focus on preparing for the start of the festival but you keep stealing glimpses at the neighboring tables. 
Medraut is deceptively delicate-looking, willowy with bony fingers and slender wrists. He’s cut his hair since the last time you saw him. Shoulder-length now, no longer spilling halfway down his back. He still favors the lavish fashions of the nobility; white silk, billowing sleeves, an obsidian brooch affixed to a lace jabot. Everything he does is graceful and deliberate, from the simple act of movement to the precise way he handles the goods arranged in front of him. He keeps returning to the doll, fussing over it, smoothing out creases in its clothing and refluffing drooping bows. Each time, his hand lingers. A squeeze of the shoulder. A stroke of the hair. A slow slide of the palm against the hollow of the throat, unabashed lust in his eyes.
Not unlike the doll, there is an uncanny, ageless quality to his features, a lack of anything that could easily identify him as young or old. That’s just how it is with mages. He could be thirty or three hundred. There’s no way to tell just by looking. You hear the apprentices discussing it. Trading rumors and throwing out guesses. His portrait hangs in the Hall of Gratitude in Twillisp Castle, his smile forever enshrined along with the other advisors King Kirgar maintained during his reign several centuries ago.
“You’re pulling my leg!” Greta hisses. “He can’t be that old!”
The others insist, “He might be even older.”
“He’s from Ithyr, you know. Some of the oldest mages in the world live there.” 
“Lived, anyway.” 
“Oh,” Greta says, her eyes wide. “Ithyr? To the west? Isn’t that where…” 
“Yes. I think that’s why he’s…like that.” 
You share a table. Tall, long and draped with black cloth, this flimsy barrier is all that stands between the two of you. Medraut has already placed a few odds and ends on the side closest to him. Combs and hairbrushes. Perfume bottles. An assortment of scalpels in different sizes, spread out on a velvet cloth. You gather a few of the larger, more inelegant minerals you haven’t had the chance to cut and grind into fine powder, lining them up down the center of the table. You try to do this quietly but Medraut turns the moment you place the first stone. He approaches the table, his smile widening. 
“Medraut,” you greet him curtly.
“My dear friend,” he says, the same sensual murmur he spoke into the doll’s ear rolling off his tongue. The slow, undisguised wandering of his gaze up and down your body makes you uneasy. His eyes are stark silver in pools of black sclera like twin moons, the pupils somewhat misshapen; common in survivors of arcanapox. “It seems I have the pleasure of your company again this year.”
You hum in acknowledgement. “I wonder how that keeps happening.” 
He tilts his head, glancing at something behind you. You step to the side to block his line of sight and he chuckles softly. “Hm. Bloodshot eyes. Unsteady gait. Shaky hands. You work your poor apprentices hard but you work yourself hardest of all. Would you like to sit down? I brought a chair.” 
You place the last stone more heavily than you need to, slamming it down at the end of the table. “You don’t cross this line,” you tell him. “You stay on your side and I stay on mine.” 
“Now, now. There’s no need for all that. But if it will put your mind at ease…” He shrugs, leaning against his half of the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Really, do you think so poorly of me? Your apprentices are precious, but I’d never steal one away. No matter how lovely they’d look in something other than those dreary robes and aprons you’re all so fond of.” 
“I’m glad to hear that,” you say, utterly unconvinced. 
The slow trickle of the festival’s first guests thankfully diverts his attention. Medraut’s display draws in many curious onlookers and he’s all too happy to explain the history of Ithyrian dollmaking. He comes out from behind the table to stand beside the doll, demonstrating its posable limbs with gentle, coaxing touches. You shouldn’t watch. You have plenty to do. But you keep looking. Keep glancing over and finding him increasingly shameless. Running his hands through the doll’s hair. Stroking its arm. Kneeling once to tighten the laces of its boots and sliding his palm up and down the curve of one long, ball-jointed leg. Up and down. Up and down. Slipping beneath the fluttering edge of its skirt…
You get a few potential customers, too, excitedly chattering patrons of the arts looking for fresh new pigments to supply their preferred painters. A few recognize you from previous years. One particularly discerning man asks if a particular jar of dark dust is used in the creation of “mourning blue,” a rich color becoming increasingly popular in the frescoes of the capital. You’re still not accustomed to being recognized like this, approached with awe and praise. Your whole world is the workshop, turning rocks and plants into colors worthy of royal portraits. 
One of your apprentices demonstrates a technique with mortar and pestle, dropping a fistful of flower petals into the bowl. The others stand towards the back and whisper amongst themselves, furtive glances aimed at Medraut. 
“How bad was it?” 
“Oh, it was dreadful. Haven’t you seen The Death of the Deathless?”
“Gods, that awful thing? I couldn’t bear to look at it!”
“Shhh!”
Silence. You can feel them staring at your back for a moment before the whispers start again, even quieter now.
“It’s true. Our teacher was there when it happened. They apprenticed in Ithyr.”
“They were there? How did they survive?” 
“Arcanapox only kills mages. Still, it makes us pretty sick, too. That’s why they have that tremor in their hands."
“Of all things, they painted that?”
“When you see something so awful, you make sense of it however you can.” 
“Eyes like hot wax. Eugh.” 
“But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”
“Mages don’t handle death well. It’s too strange to them.”
“So that’s why…?” 
“Yes, to help them grieve.”
“No, that’s just how it started. What they do now, it’s…well, it’s certainly not the same.”  
A finely dressed man in a striped, high-collared doublet approaches Medraut’s table with a broad smile. They know each other. Medraut’s face lights up and they greet each other with half-bows, left hands flicking to the side as though to cast a minor spell; a mage greeting. They speak in hushed but excited tones and you should not be eavesdropping, should not care what they have to say to each other. You rearrange the pigments, sorting them alphabetically. You can’t help yourself. You glance over at them again.
The doll is staring at you.
You nearly drop the jar you’re holding, fumbling with the lid. It hasn’t moved at all except for its head, turned towards you. You swallow nervously, bending to pick up the lid of the jar. The doll’s eyes lower, then follow you back up when you stand. You look away, heart pounding. 
“How long did it take?” you hear the man ask, sounding awed.
Medraut laughs softly. “Quite some time, but I enjoy the process. This one especially.” 
You look at the dirt beneath your feet. The dangling tablecloth. The line of stones. Medraut’s beautiful hand sliding beneath the doll’s arm. Cupping its elbow. Stroking its wrist with his thumb. Sliding their palms together, lacing his fingers with its stiff ones. His face is flushed and his smile is the sort born of fevered delirium, a man dreaming of something impossibly sweet. 
“He’s stunning. Simply breathtaking. And the eyes…”
“A fresh set,” Medraut assures him. “I used the portrait you left with me for reference. A perfect match, isn’t it?”
“Yes. This is everything we wanted and more, Medraut. I can’t thank you enough.” The other man grasps the doll’s hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each finger reverently. “Everything is as it always should have been.”
“As it will forever be,” Medraut says, quiet and solemn. For a moment, neither of them speak. They bow their heads, eyes shut tightly as though willing away an unpleasant memory. Medraut snaps out of it first. He clears his throat, his smile returning. “Let me bring you the case.” 
‘The case’ is a large, wheeled box with a handle at the top. The exterior is polished leather, while the inside is ruched white velvet. Like a display case, you think. Like a bed. Like a coffin. Medraut picks up the doll like it weighs nothing and carefully sets it inside, arranging it on its side in a fetal curl. Stray ribbons and folds of fabric are tucked in. One last kiss is pressed to its forehead. The case closes, zipped and latched and locked shut with a key Medraut passes to the man. You can’t look away as he leaves, watching the case rattle through the dirt and grass and far away, vanishing beyond the meadow. You think about it all day. You’ll probably have nightmares about it.
Sunset signals the end of the festival’s first day. You’re exhausted, eager to get off your feet. When did you eat last? You dismissed the apprentices for lunch in turns and they offered to bring you something. Offered, but you said no. Too frazzled by all the people to eat, all the talking you had to do. A sudden wave of dizziness sends you stumbling, careening right into your own display.
Strong, beautiful hands catch you. You are held against silk ruffles. A warm chest. A quickening heartbeat. Medraut lowers you gently to the ground, cradling your head in his lap. The world is blurry but you can tell he isn’t smiling anymore. He wipes the sweat from your brow.
“Teacher!” You hear Greta and the others, your apprentices frantic and wailing. Medraut keeps them at a distance, barks at them not to crowd around you. You rarely hear him so sharp-tongued and terse. He tells them where to find a healer, sends them off for food and water. You breathe shakily, feeling worse than you realized. Medraut shushes you, his thumb catching a tear at the corner of your eye.
“My dear friend,” he whispers. 
“Put me down.” You try to squirm away from him but you don’t get far. Medraut turns you over, burying your face against his shirt. “Medraut, I’m serious.” 
“You need me,” he says. His voice quivers slightly. “You need me, and you long to be cared for. Treated like a precious, delicate thing. Here I am, my dearest one. Let me take care of you for just a moment.” He rubs your back, pressing his fingertips into muscles you didn’t realize were sore. You don’t mean to relax against him. You want to fight, to push him away, but he hums an old song you haven’t heard in decades and you remember damp summer evenings in Ithyr. The hiss of the ocean and the caw of seabirds. The chalky scent of magic pigment, the way it fizzled on your fingers. Stargazing on your back in a field, your hand joined with another. How you looked at the sky but he only looked at you, spellbound. 
“Do they still hurt?” you ask him. 
“My eyes?” he says. You nod weakly. “No, dear. Not for a long time.” He strokes your head, gentle, sliding pets that make you feel like young and impulsive again. “I wish you would come to Ithyr again. Stay this time. Do you remember that seat in the bay window? You would sit there for hours with your canvas, watching the tide come and go. You would sit there, so very still.” You shake your head and it’s a lie. Denial and avoidance. Of course you remember. “I want to see you there again,” Medraut whispers, stroking along your spine. “In the sunrise. In the moonlight. As you always should have been, forever.” 
That’s how they find you when the apprentices return, still in Medraut’s embrace. Curled up like a sick child crying for relief, wrinkling his shirt with your grasping hands. Only when the healer comes do you manage to pull yourself away. Medraut lets go of you slowly, one finger at a time. You assure him repeatedly you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. You see him helping your apprentices pack up the pigments, their looks of wary acceptance, leaving his own section abandoned. There is a large box underneath one of his tables. A leather case, shut tight but unlatched. Empty, then. No doll inside. His personal mage seal is stamped on the side. 
It’s the same one he brings every time, year after year. Empty, save for desperate dreams and wishes that this time will be different than all the others. That you will finally say yes.
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thesummerestsolstice · 8 months ago
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Headcanon Crafts for Everyone I Missed Last Time:
Idril: a sculptor. She worked with every kind of stone imaginable, and often went looking for new material in Gondolin’s mines with Maeglin. (Look my Maeglin head canons are complicated but they should get to be friends the narrative has hurt them too much already) She actually preferred not to make elvish figures, instead focusing on strangely beautiful stone landscapes and various animal-like figures. She was actually responsible for Middle-Earth’s version of the gargoyle, having carved several to stand guard over Gondolin. Several elves swore that the statues moved, but she never addressed those rumors. She also liked to paint her work with bright colors, which would’ve been seen as odd back in Valinor, but fit right in in First Age Middle-Earth.
Maeglin: a smith, but his craft was more in-line with Avarin practice than Noldor practice; with much less focus on the idea of making gems and heavier focus on understanding natural geology and the properties of various gems and metals. He knew the mines of Gondolin better than anyone, and wrote plenty about the the earth under the earth. His work also had fairly significant Dwarfish influences. He liked to make mechanically complex pieces, with moving parts or even some internal gear work.
Finduilas: a hunter. Her and her father were both nature people, just in very different ways. She was silent, with all the grace of a dancer, and quick enough to outrun most of what she hunted. She preferred to go after more aggressive animals– wild boar, wolves, bears, even wargs– and leave the deer and rabbits be. She was born in Beleriand, and had never met the Valar, but sometimes, privately, offered up prayers to Orome. She liked to imagine she could’ve been in his hunt, if things had turned out a bit differently.
Celebrimbor: a smith, in the very traditional Noldor sense. Gemworker, specialized in jewelry, made various famously beautiful pieces, etc. Was never quite happy sticking to hairpins and necklaces. Longed to try his hand at imbuing his work with real power, but always talked himself out of it. A whole binder of concepts for works of power sat locked away in a chest in his workshop for centuries. He never talked to anyone about it. He was as ashamed of his feelings for his craft as he was of his feelings for his family. By the end of his life, he’d made peace with only one of those things.
Earendil: a mariner? Alright, he was definitely a mariner, and he loved the ship life– he even built a few boats of his own, in a similar fantastic style to Turgon’s architecture– but he also had a longstanding fascination with the natural world, and filled volumes and volumes of journals with information on various plants, animals, and minerals. But natural lore isn’t a recognized Noldor craft, since it involves learning but doesn’t really produce tangible results. Still, it was a passion he got from afternoons spent learning about geology with “Uncle Mole,” and one he shared with Elrond. Researching the beauty and wonder of nature gave Earendil something to do with his immortal life, and was a big part of the reason Elrond chose to be immortal at all.
Gil-Galad: a king. No, really, he’d been the high-king of the Noldor since he was a child, and hadn’t really had time for trivialities like “finding a life purpose” or “having fun.” He was too busy learning how to stay alive in late stage Beleriand (read: hell) and learning to rule the least cooperative group of elves imaginable. He wanted to be a painter, and while he found enough practice time to get good at his chosen craft; because of how long detailed paintings can take, he almost never had time to actually make anything. He tried not to let it bother him too much. He didn’t always succeed at that.
Elrond: in a bit of a weird spot. Elrond is most associated with lore and healing; but, as discussed, “lore” isn’t considered a craft. And, well. Healing had to be Elrond’s craft, right? He’d been doing it since he was seven, and just about the only person in Amon Ereb who could still use healing powers. And it was good work, and it was rewarding, even if it often left him feeling so burned out and worried that he forgot to eat or sleep. It took him a long time to admit to himself that healing for him was what fighting was to many other elves: a necessity. Truth be told, he’d rather be gardener, working with the earth to create a place of peace and beauty. Also, Elrond is basically a nature spirit. So. It was something he began to explore in the peace of the early Second Age. He found that his Ainuric powers had all sorts of interesting effects on plant life. He also learned how to breed new varieties of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. Still, he never really considered that it could be a proper craft for him. At least, not until he first saw the valley that would one day become Rivendell.
Headcanon Crafts for Finwe and his Children, the House of Feanor, the House of Fingolfin, and the House of Finarfin.
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talonabraxas · 4 months ago
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"There is a sun within every person." -Rumi.
Solar Reflection Talon Abraxas
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"The body of a man is his house; the architect who builds it is the astral world. The carpenters are at one time Jupiter, at another Venus; at one time Taurus, at another Orion.
Man is a sun and a moon and a heaven filled with stars; the world is a man, and the light of the sun and the stars is his body; the ethereal body cannot be grasped, and yet it is substantial, because if it had no substance it could not exist.
If the life of the sun did not act in the world, nothing would grow. The human body is vapour materialized by sunshine mixed with the life of the stars.
Four elements are in the world, and man consists out of four, and that which exists visibly in man exists invisibly in the ether pervading the world. "Where is the workman that cuts out the forms of lilies and roses that grow in the field? and where is his workshop and tools? The characters of the lilies and roses exist in the astral light, and in the workshop of Nature they are made into forms.
A blooming flower cannot be made out of mud, nor a man out of material clay; and he who denies the formative power of the astral light, and believes that forms grow out of the earth, believes that something can be taken out of a body in which it does not exist.” (“De Caducis.”)
"As the sunshine penetrates through a glass window into a room, likewise the influences of the astral light enter into the body of man, and as the rain is absorbed by the soil, while stones and rocks are impenetrable to it, so there are certain elements in man’s organization which absorb these influences, while other elements resist their action.
To obtain a correct idea of the construction of the microcosm, we should know how the macrocosm is constructed; we must look upon man as an integral part of universal nature, and not as something separate or different from the latter. The earth nourishes the physical body, and the astral body is nourished by the astral light, and as the former hungers and thirsts for the elements of the earth, so the latter longs for the influences which come from the astral plane.
There are many thousands of ‘magnets’ in the constitution of man; good attracts good, evil attracts evil, good improves the good and causes it to be better, evil attracts evil and is rendered worse thereby.
Innumerable are the Egos in man; in him are angels and devils, heaven and hell, the whole of the animal creation, the vegetable and mineral kingdom; and as the individual little man may be diseased, so the great universal man has his diseases which manifest themselves as the ills that affect humanity as a whole.” (“Paragran.”)
— Paracelsus (The life and the doctrines of Philippus Theophrastus Bombast of Hohenheim by Hartmann, Franz)
Picture: Rosicrucian symbology; c. 1916, by Plummer, George Winslow
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tokidokitokyo · 2 months ago
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富山県
Japanese Prefectures: Chūbu - Toyama
都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan
Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!
Kanji・漢字
富 と(む)、とみ、フ、フウ wealth, enrich, abundant
山 やま、サン、セン mountain
県 ケン prefecture
中部 ちゅうぶ Chūbu, Central Japan, the central region of Japan
Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Toyama (富山市)
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Toyama Prefecture is a part of the central region of Japan, also known as Hokuriku (北陸). Takaoka city is the birthplace of Fujiko F. Fujio, the creator of Doraemon, with many Doraemon-themed delights for visitors. Toyama lies along the Sea of Japan and includes part of the spectacular Northern Japan Alps. Gourmet seafood, idyllic scenery, cultural attractions, and a slower pace are all easily accessible by shinkansen from Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka. Toyama is an important rice-producing area, as well as sourcing hydroelectric power and minerals from the nearby mountains that serve as a basis for chemical, textile, machinery, pulp and paper, and steel industries. The capital city of Toyama and Takaoka have long been the chief center for the production of patent medicine and drugs.
Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット Gokayama Ainokura Village - 相倉合掌造り集落
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Gokayama Ainokura Village (source)
The Gokayama region is an area within the city of Nanto in Toyama Prefecture. It is on the UNESCO World Heritage List due to its traditional gassho-zukuri houses (similar to Shirakawa-go in Gifu). The region is secluded within the mountains in the upper reaches of the Shogawa River, thus preserving this unique traditional architectural style. Gokayama's lifestyle and culture remained very traditional for many years after the modernization of the majority of the country, and many of the houses here are over 300 years old.
Ainokura is the largest of these villages, with nearly 20 gassho-zukuri farmhouses. Many are still private residences, although some have been converted into restaurants, museums, and minshuku, where you can stay overnight at a farm house. With less development and more difficulty to reach this secluded village, there is less tourist traffic than some of the other villages. There are visiting hours attached to the village to avoid disturbing the residents (8:30-17:00), thus helping to preserve the quiet life in this village.
Folk dances, music utilizing unique, traditional instruments, and special washi paper techniques characterize this area. You can listen to the sasara, an instrument made of over a hundred wooden clappers strung together, which is symbolic of the region and a popular souvenir. There are also washi paper workshops where you can try your hand at making washi paper.
Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理 Kombujime - 昆布締め
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Kombujime (source)
Kombujime (also kobujime) is a local Toyama dish made by sandwiching light-tasting foods such as whitefish (most commonly marlin) and wild vegetables between sheets of kelp (or kombu). Other popular fillings include other whitefish, shrimp, tofu, and beef. The prefecture boasts the highest kelp consumption, and thus kombu is also widely available at supermarkets.
The technique used to make kombujime (which means "kombu curing") enhances the taste of the sashimi through aging the fish between two sheets of kombu. This technique softens the fish texture and the glutamates from the kelp transfer over to the fish, accentuating its flavor.
Toyama Dialect・Toyama-ben・富山弁
Toyama-ben is also called Etchu-ben (越中弁), and consists of West (Gosei, 呉西), East (Gotō, 呉東), and Gokayama (五箇山) dialects. The dialect is a combination of sounds and features close to Kansai and Tohoku dialects, but still quite different from the other dialects in the Hokuriku area.
うい ui
Standard Japanese: いっぱい 、満足、胸やお腹が苦しい (ippai, mune ya onaka ga kurushii) English: I'm stuffed; my chest or stomach feels tight
食べ過ぎて、はらういわ。 tabesugite, hara ui wa
食べ過ぎて、はらいっぱい。 tabesugite, hara ippai
I ate too much, I'm stuffed.
2. きどくな kidokuna
Standard Japanese: ありがとう (arigatou) English: thank you
あら、きどくな。 ara, kidokuna
あら、ありがとう。 ara, arigatou
Oh my, thank you.
3. じゃまない (jyamanai)
Standard Japanese: 大丈夫、問題ない (daijyoubu, mondai nai) English: I'm OK, no problem
A: 体調、いかがですか? B: じゃまない、じゃまない! A: taichou, ikaga desu ka? B: jamanai, jamanai!
A: 体調、いかがですか? B: 大丈夫、大丈夫! A: taichou, ikaga desu ka? B: daijyoubu, daijyoubu
A: How are you feeling? B: I'm doing well!
4. こわい (kowai)
Standard Japanese: かたい (katai) English: firm, tough
このご飯、こわいわ。 kono gohan, kowai wa.
このご飯、かたいなあ。 kono gohan, katai naa.
This rice is really hard.
5. つかえん (tsukaen) (also, なん nan、つけん tsuken)
Standard Japanese: かまわない、問題ない (kamawanai, mondai nai) English: it's fine, it's no problem
A: もう少し、待っていただけますか? B: つかえんちゃ! A: mou sukoshi, matte itadakemasu ka? B: tsukaen cha!
A: もう少し、待っていただけますか? B: 問題ない! A: mou sukoshi, matte itadakemasu ka? B: mondai nai!
A: Can you please wait a little longer? B: No problem!
More Toyama dialect here (JP with EN).
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basil--and--sage · 11 days ago
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Bifur headcanons, as requested by @ashyjingles :)
(read the Bombur ones for some background)
(Uncle Thorin, part 1, part 2), (Dwalin), (Óin), (trans Dwarves)
Bifur is already nearly an adult, when his little cousins are born and so, he babysits them all the time and takes them on little adventures
before the axe head, he's an outgoing, well-spoken and charming Dwarrow, who comes up with songs and is very well-liked by his community
he is dedicated to his craft (=asexual), which is a tragedy according to some, due to his charm and fine beard
in his youth he is a toymaker in training, but he has to work as a miner instead, to help to provide for the family
he's ambitious. For decades he doesn't just work as a miner during the day, he also goes through extensive training in the evening, until he finally manages to join the City Guard of Thorin's Hall. His family is incredible proud of him. He also receives a much higher wage than as a miner
after a few decades an Orc raid hits the city. They manage to break through the city wall. Bifur fights bravely side by side with his fellow guards, until he is hit by an axe. He somehow survives
the years after the raid are very fuzzy. He barely remembers them. He only knows what his cousins tell him. Most of it is tragic, like the fact that nearly all of his friends turned away from him
he might look severe most of the time, but he isn't. He has issues to control his face and also a chronic headache due to the axe
because of his injury he lost a lot of his fine motor skills and can't really craft toys anymore. He doesn't like to speak about it, since it's breaking his heart, even after decades
he loves his cousins very much and doesn't know what he would do without them
he receives a small pension, since he was injured on duty, but it's barely enough, and so he starts to work in the mines again, though he mostly works in the higher levels as a carrier, due to his ailments
he keeps his focus on the little things in life, like sunshine on his face, laughing with his cousins, picking flowers and collecting pretty stones and such
Bifur doesn't really expect the quest to be successful, but he still joins, since his cousins want to go, and also he hears that Thorin takes young lads like his nephews and Ori with him and as a former guard, he wants to try and protect them
since most people are put off by the axe head and his issues with speaking, he keeps to himself and his cousins. To his surprise, Fíli joins him one day, when he's collecting stones during some downtime. Turns out, Fíli is a gem cutter by trade, who loves to collect quartz and such in his freetime. They become fast friends and since Fíli deems him alright, Kíli (who was spooked in the beginning) warms up to him. Bifur spends a lot of time with the two lads and enjoys their youthful energy
after losing the axe head during the Battle of Five Armies, his headaches get a lot better, though his other ailments don't change much
after the quest (in an "Everybody survives"-AU), Bifur wishes to rejoin the Guard. At Fíli's request, Bifur becomes the personal guard of the Crown Prince of Erebor (and keeps sneaking him snacks and such)
he also keeps working on his motor skills, and even if he can't craft the same toys as before the injury, it is still balm for his soul to sit in his workshop
(there are also rumors that he and Óin are sometimes seen holding hands. But that's nobody's business, isn't it?)
(feel free to send requests)
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