#partial chainmail shirt

[streetmaille]

Anodized Chainmail Halter Tops are here! Perfect for dance festivals and Halloween costume armor 🎃

Upgraded this idea from years ago with a new pattern and anodized aluminum so there’s no gray rub off. So happy with how it turned out, it’s so much easier and more comfortable to wear.

Available in two adjustable sizes here: https://www.streetmaille.etsy.com/listing/1542164831

[summermosswrites]

Without trace

Pairing: fem!OC/Aragorn

Short summary: When Aragorn falls off a cliff after the Wargs encounter, he is found by a stranger woman who tends to his wounds.

Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, angsty (not yet) + descriptions of minor injuries and/or blood

A/n: Sorry guys, I know that the Warg sequence didn’t take place in the books, but it was way too convenient for my idea for me not to use it. I apologize for any mistakes in my syntax or punctuation, as English isn’t my first language. By the way, this OC and the story in general is partially inspired by one character from Homer’s Odyssey. I wonder if anyone will catch the reference :)

***

The creek softly whispered all around her. Astaraine carefully stepped into the burning cold waters and looked down. At her feet, a man was lying. His pale face framed with shoulder-long dark hair, he seemed too close to dying to be called handsome, and yet Astaraine couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The woman pressed the back of her palm to the stranger’s forehead. He was definitely still alive, although burning with fever. Astaraine attempted to lift him, but the man appeared to be too heavy for her to handle all alone. So she dragged him out of the water and called over her horse. The understanding animal approached her, and when Astaraine patted the ground next to the wounded stranger, the horse bent down on the ground beside him.

Soon enough, the woman was riding in her saddle with the unconscious man seated in front. He was significantly taller than Astaraine and blocked the view, but otherwise he would have fallen off the horse. She sighed and continued her way to the cottage hidden somewhere in the foothill of the White Mountains.

Once they arrived, Astaraine brought the man inside. She moved the low couch that used to occupy the further corner of her living room closer to the fireplace, adjusted the cushions and laid down the stranger. Just a few minutes later she was already busy by the fire, sterilizing some bandages in boiling water. At the same time she was grinding herbs to make a healing balm, and when everything was ready, she sat down by the improvised bed. After carefully washing away all the blood and dirt from the stranger’s head, Astaraine realized that she will have to take off his chainmail and the tunic he wore underneath in order to get to the wound on his shoulder that has already bled through his shirt and on one of the blankets that covered the couch. Only when she was ridding his arm of the sleeve of his shirt did she notice the ring with a green gem on his hand. It seemed oddly familiar. However, Astaraine couldn’t recall where she saw the two snakes before and continued her work. She wiped the wound with a clean cloth, stitched the wound and covered it with the ointment she prepared. She secured it with a bandage and left for the kitchen to keep herself busy. The sun was already setting over the mountains. Suddenly Astaraine noticed just how tired she was. After decades of peaceful life away from others this little distraction exhausted her. She was growing soft. It’s been a long time since Astaraine had to recollect whatever powers she possessed. The creature closest to her in all of Middle-Earth was, perhaps, Tom Bombadil. She even used to be friends with the old bard before the evil spreading from the eastern lands didn’t part their ways and tied each of them to their respective lands. Surely, Astaraine could leave if she wanted to, but the longer she spent away from home, the more wraith-like she became, the weaker and thinner. So, she settled into the slow, mortal rhythm of life, and spent her days caring for any animals that might have wandered off their pastures, and cleaning her house, and growing her little garden. If she shut her eyes tight enough, she could even pretend away the darkness that would blur her vision from time to time. That was until this morning she found a wounded stranger washed up on the river bank in the valley. It was hard to ignore the war when it knocked on your door, and before she knew it, Astaraine found herself examining the old blade of hers, buried in the very bottom of the trunk with her belongings. What she didn’t expect to find was an old tome in a leather cover that she almost forgot existed. It was a part of her previous life, a life where she was able to travel all over Middle-Earth, and talk to people and write down their stories. She scrolled through a couple of pages and that’s when it hit her: the ring, the one the man lying on her couch was wearing, was none other than the ring of Barahir. Its detailed drawing looked back at her from the pages of the book. Although she didn’t yet understand who the wounded person was, ideas started forming in her head. Meanwhile, the stranger’s condition was worrying her. He didn’t wake up back when she was stitching his wound, and he wasn’t showing any signs of improvement ever since.

Astaraine stayed up all night. The man only gained consciousness for a brief moment. His eyes darted across the room frantically, searching for any signs of danger, but he blacked out again before his hand ever reached the dagger tied to his belt. When the first rays of sunshine set the sky on fire early in the morning, Astaraine heard the stranger mutter something through his feverish dreams. She only managed to make out a short phrase. “The same blood flows in my veins. The same weakness”, he mumbled. Astaraine placed a damp washcloth on his forehead, wiping away the sweat. He closed his eyes, and for the first time that night he found peace in his sleep. He was no longer tossing in bed, and when the sun reached its zenith, his fever was gone. The woman, on the other hand, clinged to what he said, and the puzzle pieces started coming together in her mind. She slowly inhaled, as if she were making a decision, and placed her hand over the bandage on the man’s arm. Years ago Astaraine hoped that she would never have to get involved in the fates of this world again, but the odds were not in her favor, and she was about to put to use some of the abilities that she once chose to forget.

The stranger woke up in the evening. In the dim evening light the unfamiliar surroundings looked ethemere. A fireplace was crackling to his left. Fresh bouquets of wildflowers were standing on the windowsills, and the soft breeze was fiddling with the curtains. A clean bandage wrapped his forearm. The man stood up and found a clay mug with well-water on the table. A piece of parchment was lying by its side, pressed to the wooden surface with a small vial.

“Welcome, wanderer. I hope that this note finds you well rested and your wounds healed. You may find your clothes folded on a chair by a fireplace, if you haven’t yet. The jar that I used as a paper press contains a balm that will help your wounds heal faster. Your sword and your dagger were cleaned from orc blood and are waiting for their owner tied to the saddle, for I can only assume that it was your horse that found this place earlier in the morning. There is something to eat in the cellar. However, no matter how much I would enjoy offering you to stay here longer, I am afraid that we both have business to attend to. Remember: not all those who wander are lost, and I will do my best to help you find your way back”.

The stranger dressed, he noticed that the arm he recalled wounding wasn’t aching at all. He lifted the bondage and found a healing scar instead of torn flesh. When he followed the note and checked the cellar for provision, he was to find a wooden tray with dinner, still warm. And when Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was leaving with Brego, he wasn’t that surprised to turn his head and find no trace of the cottage or the garden surrounding it.

Astaraine followed Elessar with her eyes as he disappeared behind a hill. She followed. Once she reached the creek where she found the ranger, Astaraine hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and crossed an invisible line that separated her own little world from the rest of Middle-Earth. Unlike Aragorn, she didn’t look back. She knew that her home was now gone.

P.S from the author: First time posting something in English, so please, let me know if I should continue this story.

[faun-the-hound]

Dante + Garroth sketches as well. Ignore the fuckass Kiki + Thorgi, that was an experiment that did not go well.

Dante first:

He's got a few Magi traits from his dad, a siren who remains unnamed for now- pointed ears, sharp (vertical) pupils, and webbed hands. He tries to hide these, however, out of fear of what happened to Gene happening to him.

It was Dante who got his brother killed, letting it slip to the Lord's daughter, someone he thought was his friend, that Gene was using his mind-memory-manipulation to steal to keep them and their sick mother fed. He was just venting, he didn't think about what he was saying, or how much the town despised Magick and magi in general. He thought he could trust her.

He ran away the night of Gene's burning, leaving his mother and brother behind. He assumes they're both dead by now, it's been a few years, so it stands to reason. He doesn't know that Gene is a Shadow Knight, or that he killed their mother to gain his immortality and burned their hometown to ashes.

The diamond on his cloak is a communication amulet, the other half of which was Gene's, and is currently sitting at the bottom of a lava lake in Erebos/the Nether.

He uses hair to cover his eyes, cloak to cover his ears, and he cuts the webbing on his hands to wear gloves, just to avoid getting found out as not human. The webbing heals and comes back every other season, and he stops cutting it after joining Phoenix Drop.

He is slightly hard of hearing, and gets frequent headaches, using his own Magick to relieve them. His Magick is hydrokinesis and healing (both from his siren father), using water to mend small cuts and burns, and relieve pain (like a weaker Katara from Avatar) though he isn't great at it.

He's sixteen years old when he meets Avira/Aphmau, a couple years younger than Brian (the youngest adult in PD), a scrawny fella and suffering deeply from the guilt of killing his big brother and recurring nightmares (lack of sleep doesn't help his headaches either)

Post-time-skip, he's a lot more buff, he's filled out a lot more and has a few more scars. He has his webbed fingers back fully, and trims his hair back, no longer afraid to show who he really is. ----------

Garroth now:

I have less head canons about him. The main one being- he never brushes his hair. It is a tangled, matted rat's net under that helmet. Simply because he genuinely doesn't know how to care for it, he had maids and servants to wash, dry and style his hair, and he's really let it grow out recently, he could barely handle it short, what's he meant to do here? (Avira eventually gets her hands on him and fixes it, but good Matron, man, get a haircut at the very least)

He grew his hair out for three reasons- one, all men of the Ro'meave family are supposed to have short hair, and two, he looks a lot less like Garte with it long. He often purposefully got injured on his face during training, hoping for scars, bruises, breaks and anything else that would make him look less like Garte- less like a neat and tidy Ro'meave.

Third- to braid it. It's tradition on the east side of Ru'aun for the bereaved to tie braids into their hair, tying them off with coloured ribbons to represent the loved one they lost. Garroth heard this, and his mind jumped immediately to Vylad. His baby sibling. He always partially blamed himself for Vylad disappearing, he helped with the ritual after all, and he never had the time to grieve or say goodbye. So, he keeps an emerald green ribbon tied into a small braid, for the sibling he lost.

His armour is really basic- like the most basic of the basic trainee armour from the Guard Academy. A chainmail shirt, breastplate, arm and leg guards, and a longsword. His shield and cape both came from Phoenix Drop, and the Matron's crest on his chest/collar area is a lucky charm, a brooch his mother had made for him his first day at the Academy.

His helmet is also really basic, essentially a bucket with T-shape in the front to see out of. It's awful, uncomfortable, sweaty, stuffy and unbearably hot, but he never takes it off, and he tries (and usually fails) to get Zenix to do the same. He prides himself on his armour, polishes it almost religiously, and prays over his sword and shield every night to always guide him true in battle and protect those around him whom he cares so deeply for.

The last note on the page is his eyes- his pupils are white. Esmund had the Relic of Pride when he had his children, the ancestors of the Ro'meave family, thus leaving a faint trace of residual Divine Magick in their bloodline. This Magick isn't usable without the Relic, so the only side effect is their pupils being white, giving an illusion of glowing eyes in the dark.

Post-time-skip, when he comes back, he stops wearing his braid for Vylad, keeping the ribbon around his pinkish finger like a ring instead, an unspoken promise to keep his remaining family (Avira, Levin, Malachi and Zane at this point) safe. ----------

Kiki and Thorgi are there because I wanted to try drawing them. I head canon that Thorgi was Kiki's dog before Aph/Avi got to the village, and then Thorgi started following her around, drawn in by the Magick that sticks to her.

[bestiarium]

The Berserkir [Nordic mythology]

Also called Berserkr or (in English) Berserkers, these people were the personal warriors of Odin (or Wodan, Óðinn, Wuotan, etc, they are the same deity), god of magic and supreme deity of the Nordic and old Germanic pantheons. These soldiers were both famous and infamous for their fearless fury in combat. The word ‘Berserkr’ is derived from an old term that roughly translates to “bear coat” referring to their tendency to enter battle without wearing armor, like a wild animal. They simply didn’t need chainmail or leather, as neither iron nor fire had any effect on them. Similarly, they were also called Ulfheðnar, which means “wolf coat”.

Those who fought against or alongside them claimed the Berserkir fought like mad dogs. The Hárbarðsljoð, an old Eddic poem, also mentions female warriors called Vargynjur, or “wolf women”. Some scholars think these fighters may have been the female counterparts of Berserkir.

I also found some depictions of the Berserkir where they are shown with the head or upper body of a bear. Whether this meant they wore animal hides or partially transformed into wild animals, I’m not certain. According to Magnussón’s 1989 Icelandic etymological dictionary, both these depictions and the name “bear shirt” referred to the animal hides which they supposedly wore in battle.

In practice, the term Berserkir was used in real life to refer to a group of viking warriors who supposedly fought like their mythical counterparts, without fear and without armor. Although it can be assumed that they were not invulnerable, some theorize that they ingested drugs before a battle began to reduce pain. 

Source: Lecouteux, C., 2016, Encyclopedia of Norse and Germanic Folklore, Mythology, and Magic. (image source 1: Damian Mantur on Artstation) (image source 2: the image on one of the Torslunda plates, four bronze tablets dating from the 6th or 7th century. They were found in Öland, Sweden, and depict scenes from Germanic mythology. This one is thought by some to depict Odin (on the left) and a Berserkr (on the right). Image taken from Stringfixer.com)

[sanstropfremir]

apologies if someone's already asked this but... favorite taemin stylings and sets/stages?

i've had fave songs but not fave styles and sets!!!! thank you anon this is great.

- ok my top stage is probably the advice inkigayo one take stage, because 1) the full loverboy styling and also the backup dancers have impeccable outfits too, 2) i loooooove the neoclassical set (the fact that main sculptures are laocoön and his sons, where the story in virgil is that he is punished by being attacked by snakes for attempting to expose the trojan horse as a ruse) and the THRONE!!! also the inverted triangle!! has a bunch of different meanings, including: the alchemical symbol for water (fluid and formless, also in the projections) and the symbol for femininity, the symbol of the father, son, and the holy ghost (christianity), and 3) the choreography of advice is the only choreo of taemin's that was conceived post covid and thus it's meant for specifically for the accompanying camerawork, which you can really see in the various ways that it gets filmed.

- my other all time fave styling is this outfit from the ngda beyond live:

which also included a burned jacket and an eyepatch, which he used to perform criminal, idea, guess who/sexuality, heaven, and door.

- another fave styling is the danger stage from shinee world 2014 at tokyo dome, with the giant blue fur coat and shirtless leather jacket and the giant cross and the revolver. peak solo taemin image change bullshit and i love it.

- tbh i love most of the styling from advice but the white cropped sweatsuit look really did make me lose braincells. like the chunky earrings and the harness and the bobby pins and mascara tear tracks and the pseudo sports bra it all lives rent free in my empty skull

- just. all the styling from criminal and ngda in general. obvs love the dark virgin mary getup and the chainmail and also the gucci suit with the chainsaw, but the lava suit and the hell set from the 2020 kbs song festival..........MWAH. and the royal blue satin hanbok from the king taemin mama 2020 stage....................with the cape.............. i also do like the set here as well, very inspired choice to go with this tron style hyper neon hanok/palace and pair it with more traditional fabrics and embroidery.

- i also find the original move styling ideologically very fascinating, partially because everyone kinda just....forgot about it? it's been eclipsed by all the newer versions that he's done where his general styling has shifted much more towards the 'feminine' end of the spectrum, but the original stages are a very interesting deconstruction of traditional western masculine silhouettes with emphasis on a particularly 'masculine' feature: muscular arms. most of the looks are sleeveless muscle shirts or graphic tshirts, but interestingly also a very skinny fit double breasted pinstripe suit, which is huge symbol of post-war and post-modern masculinity in western fashion. you can see this continuing deconstruction with other tracks on the move album; like with stone heart, where he's got this strange and kind of incredible sweatervest/suspenders/ultra high waisted trouser combo for the offsick concert, which is very clearly an appropriation of classic 'scholarly'/academic type fashion.

- as far as sets go, really all i want to talk about is how taemin puts sooo much thought into his stages (like the actual physical stages) for his tours. he's so interested in providing these very unique experiences in terms of stage technology which is not something a lot of artists think about. like for his first solo concert at nippon budokan he did a concert entirely in the round, which is pretty much unheard of for a stadium show. there's also the double hydraulic lifts from xtm, everything that was happening for t1001101 (the slanted stage, the lighting rigs), and then for the ngda beyond live, a redux of the slanted stage that also was separated into three different hydralic sections and drone camera integration (dream maker studios posted the dronecam version of heaven so you can see some of the stage in action). there's so much tech that goes into his performances that i really wanted to talk about that a bit, because i'm a nerd and stadium stage design is sometimes sooooooo boring. taemin really makes the effort to step up his game not only personally, but in everything around him as well.

[belleski]

Prosthetic Pals! 

[ID:] a digital full body drawing of Cel Sidebottom and Zolf Smith from Rusty Quill gaming. Cel is a half elf with lightly tanned skin, short blonde hair that sticks up, freckles, fangs and a partially damaged right ear. They are wearing a light pink button up with darker pink pin stripes under a dark blue waistcoat with a golden fish scale pattern. They are also wearing dark red pinstriped trousers, brown boots with golden soles and a brown fingerless glove on their right hand. Their left hand is a prosthetic made up of segmented bronze metal. They are smiling and winking at Zolf, who’s head they are leaning on with their left arm. Zolf is a white dawf with white hair and a braided beard . His eyes are fully black with blue irises and white pupils. He is wearing a large grey jacket with dark blue lapels and a black button up under a chainmail shirt, as well as brown trousers with a dark grey metal making up his prosthetic legs. One of his hands is tucked into his pocket, and the other is wearing a fingerless glove and is holding a glave. He is looking to the left and smiling at Cel.  The background is a flat light blue with a darker blue circle under the two figures. The artist’s signature is in the bottom middle of the canvas - ‘Belleski’

[saphirered]

Was wondering if I could request a Dorian x Rogue Reader where the reader’s never really taken part in any sort of pageant event before and needs some guidance from the party’s resident performer? Love your writing by the way! Have a great day!

Thank you and I hope you like this one too. Have a nice day! 😘

Everyone’s picking out outfits, talking about the pageant and having fun doing so. Orym and Fy’ra have gotten out of participating in the pageant but you weren’t as lucky. Wether it’s because Opal is very convincing, you’re easily tempted, the prospects of a shiny crown or Dorian’s persuasion, you don’t know. Might just be all of the above but you’re apparently in now and will be participating and find yourself playing the part of dress up doll for Opal who’s put you in a grand total of twenty-seven outfits varying from big voluminous dresses to nice suits, some of which including some impractical but pretty armour.

Awkwardly you leave the dressing room. This dress she’s put you in is so poofy you can’t even lower your arms to your sides as the sheer volume of tule keeps them at an angle. You’re pretty sure you look about as comfortable as you feel. The only good part about this humongous ballgown is there’s loads of places to hide weapons and stuff you could possibly lift from people’s pockets among the yards upon yards of fabric. Opal is fawning over you, pulling at the fabric flouncing it up to adjust the layers. Dorian notices your feelings about this twenty-eighth outfit and steps in to save you from the pageant expert.

“Maybe not this one? It doesn’t really do much for their figure, wouldn’t you agree?” Opal taps her lips at Dorian’s suggestion. The genasi has a point. The majority of your features get lost in the garment and no amount of accessorising can fix that. She scrunches her brow and nods. You let out a breath of relief hoping to be done with this. Not like you mind shopping but dressing up in this many outfits is exhausting and you can’t wait to be done. Why can’t you just pick a random one off the rack and call it a day? Lesson of the day; never go pageant shopping with a pageant girl. You’ll be at this for hours.

“Yeah. Too much volume. Maybe we should go back to something more formfitting. I think I saw a couple of outfits that would work much better.” Opal’s words make your breath hitch and you keep in a groan at the mention of more things to try on as the girl scurries off to find the things she saw and you’re left with Dorian. Turning to him as you finish staring after Opal and praying to the gods these new outfits she’s looking for would just spontaneously combust before they made their way back to you, you grab the genasi by the cloak, both hands clutching on tightly.

“Save me, Dorian. Please have mercy and save me from this hell.” You beg. Dorian presses his lips together tightly as to not let the laughter escape. He’ll have to admit it’s very funny to see you so completely and utterly out of your element but he also feels for you.

“I reckon we have about ten minutes before Opal returns. Only way to stop her is finds something you like and suits you well. Blow her away with whatever you find. As long as you look as uncomfortable as you feel, She’ll keep coming with the outfits.” Dorian’s right nothing will satisfy Opal as much as you feeling as comfortable and pretty as they know you are, regardless of you admitting it or not. The problem is, you don’t even know where to start looking. This shop, it’s all just a needle in a haystack for you.

“You have to help me find something and quickly! I don’t think I can take another hoop skirt or waistcoat. I might just faint.” Dorian clasps your hands over his and releases your grasp on his cloak. He offers you a confident smile that somewhat eases your fears of the intimidating woman on fashion spree. Dorian pulls you along to the racks, using one hand to browse while holding yours tightly clasped in the other giving it a soft squeeze whenever you look over your shoulder and around to find Opal and her growing heap of clothes.

“So we’ve eliminated any big skirts and traditional suits. How do you feel about something fitted and flowy?” Dorian brushes his fingers over the shoulder of a smocked shirt. You stare down at the poofy mess you’re still stuck in like a butterfly in a net.

“Uhhh, as far away from any ballgowns as we can get please. I don’t mind a bit of a cinch.” You say as Dorian picks up something akin to a corset with set in with decorative chainmail pieces. He holds it up to your body, purses his lips and puts it back not the rack. Not really your style. You need something fierce and practical, something that shows off your features just right but won’t be wearing you and will still make you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Then he spots it. This will look perfect on you. A dark navy blue fitted top with a deep v-neck nearly down to the bellybutton, and fitted sleeves. The matching leather pants also are fitted and somewhat resemble what you normally wear, though these are much less weathered. Over this all goes a very long trained chiffon robe rhinestoned like the night’s sky held together by an ornate silver clasp at the waist. When Dorian pulls it from the rack and holds it up to you you don’t know wether to fear or feel relieved at the look he gives you. Before you know it you’re being rushed back to the dressing room. Dorian helps you out of the monstrosity of the gown you’re in and leaves you to change into the new outfit as he distracts Opal long enough before she can return with the pile she’s gathered.

You never doubted Dorian to have style but this takes it to a whole new level. This is perfect. It fits in all the right places and whatever he said about it showing when you feel uncomfortable in a garment, it’s true as when you see yourself in the mirror that fully disappears and instead you feel confident. It may not have any protective properties like your usual armour does but it sure feels like you could take on the world right now. You’re badass, beautiful and confident.

When you step out of the dressing room you can already see Dorian mid argument with Opal who wanted to barge in, arms filled with clothes of all kind and the shop assistant being with whatever she couldn’t carry, huffing and puffing under the weight of it all. Their attention turns to you. Dorian’s attention turns to you and he doesn’t know how but you take his breath away. You look absolutely stunning. You look like a deity from the stars themselves, the energy you radiate does you justice and if he ever even had an ounce of doubt (he never did) it only shows your natural beauty more than ever.

“Oh. My. Gods.” Opal exclaims as she drops all the fabric in her arms rushing over to you, inspecting your new outfit, gushing about how it fits and how you should style your hair, maybe do some makeup to match the ‘star-effect’ of the robe for cohesion. You can’t even keep up anymore but let her ramble on. She tells the assistant you’d found your outfit and the assistant exasperatedly begins picking up the pile she dropped to put back on the racks. No more fittings for you. Opal’s satisfied and you’re safe. You offer Dorian a look of gratitude and he winks back, not daring to interrupt the fashion tyrant dressed in pink.

——————

Backstage before your turns in the pageant you get a moment alone with Dorian as the two of you watch the other candidates. You’re panicking as Dorian pulls up your hair, adding a comb to keep it in place and add some flare. You have no idea where he got it nor dare you ask right now, just thankful he’s been doing what he can to ease your nerves. This is not your thing. Prancing around like some trick pony is not your thing. You stick to the shadows, at most mingle with society using honeyed words to get what you need or want but this is a whole new world and you feel as if your skills are useless in this environment.

“You’re going to be okay. All you have to do is answer the question. It doesn’t take much more than a charming answer to persuade the judges. No different than persuading a shopkeeper to give you a better deal.” Dorian adjusts the comb before removing his hands and taking a step back to inspect his work. He taps your shoulder and has you turn around. It doesn't take a genius to see you’re nervous and the jitters are clear through your bouncing leg as you sit staring up at him, panic in your eyes and breathing hitching high in your chest visible through your partially exposed collarbones.

“Yeah but getting a better price on potions doesn’t have a crowd a few hundred large to witness it. What if I say something wrong? What if they don’t like me?” Dorian kneels in front of you, stroking your cheek and hand on your shoulder.

“Deep breath.” You do as you feel his thumb run across your cheek, the gesture alone calms your nerves a little bit and pulls you back to this world. You nod to signal you’re good.

“This is no different that the real world. If you say something wrong, own it. Make them think it’s intentional. There’s very few things you could say that you couldn’t own or turn into something funny.” Dorian assures you. You place a hand over his on your cheek and press a kiss to his wrist as a thank you as he continues.

“As for them not liking you, I don’t see how the couldn’t instantly be mesmerised. You are gorgeous, intelligent, resourceful. If they don’t eat you up and admire you for who you are they don’t deserve you.” The next candidate is called to the stage and both of you know you’ll be up soon. You’re glad Dorian’s pep talk is working and you can feel the affection from him. If only he knew how much it means to you to have him here. Then again, you’ve told him plenty of times how amazing he is.

“Why are they walking all weirdly getting on stage?” You raise an eyebrow as the next candidate places one foot directly in front of the other, walking on their tiptoes more than their full feet.

“Watch the hips.” You do as Dorian says and you can see their hips swaying as they walk adding just a little bit more flare to that strut. You have to say, it kinda looks good. Maybe you should give it a try?

“Could you, I don’t know teach me? I know how to sway hips but this, this goes beyond me.” You gesture to the candidate stopping at Ruby to answer the question. Dorian looks a little taken aback but rises to his feet pulling you with him. He never thought he’d ever be teaching anyone how to walk the walk and is pretty sure he’ll get some weird looks from the others but he doesn’t really care if it makes you happy and more confident about this whole pageant. He puts his hands on your hips as you stand facing each other but keeps a bit of a distance between he two of you so you can still take the steps as you would on your own.

“Okay, so first things first. You want to keep your steps on the same line. See it like walking on a narrow ledge or a tightrope. You want to stick to balancing on your toes and keep a bounce in your knees. Don’t lock them too much. Light on your feet.” Dorian guides you forward as he steps backwards with you guiding you along, tapping whatever hip is swaying next. Your movement is a bit rigid at first but before you know it you’re doing it and Dorian steps away to let you strut without his help. You’re a natural. He gives pointers as you turn but you have the walk down in no time.

Then your name is called. The panic returns for a second but is overshadowed by your newfound confidence. You look the part, you got the act down so act the part too. Confidently you strut down to Dorian, give him a seductive look as you stroke his cheek following his jawline. He’s gotta say, he likes this look on you but can see the glee break through your seduction.

“What would I have done without my handsome hero in blue?” You smile and give him a kiss.

“Still be stuck in that dressing room with Opal probably? You look stunning. Go show them exactly what you’re made of.” Dorian encourages you, a hue of purple spreading lightly across his cheeks as he watches for any witnesses to your moment. Holding on to his cheek as long as you can stepping backwards you offer him one last wink and blowing him a kiss before you turn and strut onto the stage ready to play. Who knew pageants could be fun after all.

[bookersebastien]

since I love your headcanons/meta (if you're up to it) can I have your thoughts on the guard + fashion

andy

Andy probably has a pretty complicated relationship with fashion, like i think she does with most things in the modern world given the fact that it’s only a tiny spec of her lifetime

She’s spent her life watching thousands upon thousands of fashion trends come and go and was alive during the creation of many fabrics themselves

She’s been a warrior her entire life, we may not know the manner of her first death (or at least not from the movies) but we know she’s spent most of her life as an immortal fighting, both before and after she met quynh

Fashion for her was always at the very least comfortable and flexible, something she could travel and fight in without a moment’s notice

But to some extent how she looks, her image is a very important aspect of her, especially in the earlier part of her life

She was a famed fighter for so long, earning her name “fighter of man”, there were probably stories told of her and quynh, warrior women who no one can defeat, her clothing at that time at least semi reflected that, she wanted to be seen as “unbreakable” as she says in the movie

She had probably minimal armor, after all she doesn’t need it technically and would only prefer it to have less healing time if she took on less damage, but her clothing showed exactly who she was, every bit the warrior

As practical as she is, who she appears to be is still probably very much still tied to her identity, she may not be known anymore and doesn’t even want to be for the sake of their safety but her clothes are not just strictly practical, rather than be the warrior of myth she has now become a warrior of the modern age, a warrior of the shadows

Her clothes still reflect her younger self, the famed warrior, just scaled back and modernized. She wears calf-high boots, arm braces and fitted clothing in all black  she cuts quite and imposing figure and that’s what i think she wants. She doesn’t necessarily use it to intimidate others, as her younger self may have done, this time her clothing is now to make her still feel powerful, a reflection of who she is now: skilled and deadly, ready at a moments notice to protect those she loves

While jeans and a tank top is a perfectly normal outfit, with the boots and braces you’d do a double take, wondering who she was, but it’s meant to blend in just enough but if you look closely enough at how tight the boots are laced and her posture, tank top carefully tucked in you’d start to wonder

I think she does actually like fashion, she’s seen so much of it and she probably sees things that remind her of something she saw hundreds of years ago, like seeing trends pop up again and it fills her with nostalgia. It reminds her of when she was in love with humanity, loved seeing what people created and invented and when she truly believed in their cause

But things definitely changed after quynh was thrown in the ocean, just had a less of desire and the clothes probably reminded her of quynh, what’d she’d wear and what she’d get for andy to wear and as modern times came around she stuck to stuff that was more practical, still a little fashionable, but stuff that could be worn doing anything from sleeping to fighting

I think her clothing in the movie, mostly black, reflects who she is as this time: a powerful and strong warrior who’s also afraid, she’s afraid that she spent her life fighting for something that doesn’t matter but also (pre-nile) afraid of what she’s going to do now that she said the world could burn - what does a 6,000+ immortal warrior do then?

booker

Booker is not unfashionable, and while his relatively apathetic and cynical nature might make you think fashion isn’t something he would care about, i think he does

He isn’t like joe who would go the extra step to make an outfit more aesthetically pleasing, but also he isn’t as super practical as nicky (he keeps his gun in his pants for fuck’s sake)

Booker is tired and wants to feel normal, to feel his humanity that he feels is slipping away from him even though it’s already been 200 years - he’s still adjusting and that’s because he never wanted this and still doesn’t completely accept this is his life now (hence at least a partial reason for his betrayal)

But i don’t booker is one to make too much of a fuss about what he’s wearing, he wants simple clothing that won’t make him look out of place, especially since he was the one who met with copley for that previous mission maybe he is the one who scouts missions as their seemingly resident computer person

So he goes for what a lot of people do: classic pieces of clothing in selection of relatively neutral colors that all work together. In their life it’s important to have clothes at the ready, both in their bags and at their safehouses and i’d bet at least most of his stuff would work together with no issues

Aside from the tac outfit of course, he mainly wears an assortment of jeans, boots, button downs and leather jackets in mostly blacks and grays with a couple faded blues and greens - any of these can be thrown on without an issue, it looks like a complete outfit and nothing about how he’s dressed is any way going to attrract attention

Plus this man doesn’t care enough about himself to make him look good rather than just being fine with what he has, he wants to die and doesn’t allow himself to feel the love he has from his family, dressing up to him isn’t going to add anything or make anything better

So in the sequel i’d love to see him deal with his pain and his betrayal head on and who knows maybe joe will buy him some zipper pants too and maybe booker will actually like them

nicky

Nicky is the other more practical one other than andy, but he lacks her attempt at keeping at appearances/empowerment

The majority of movies he’s wearing plain t-shirts and regular jeans with dad jackets, the only slightly impractical fashion choice being his hoodie from the tac outfit, which it does cover him up completely and allows him to cover his face more if needed but also it’s hot (i also like that post comparing the hoodie to the crusader’s chainmail helmet)

But nicky in essence is practical, he’s the protector of the group, always watching and always on the edges, he doesn’t care much i think for what he wears as long as it allows him to do his job

Yes of course he participated in fashions over the years, and will wear things joe picks out for him and occasionally what he picks out for himself, but that stuff is not for when there is a mission, not when people need help

But i think he usually gravitates towards simple like andy, something to run and fight in but he lacks andy’s past of fame, reverence, and notoriety (at least in the way she had it - he did fight in the crusades after all) so his clothing isn’t to do anything for him but to act as clothing, it holds no mental power over him, he has no image to project - he’s done so much that he wants to help people and protect his family and that’s it

I don’t think growing up in genoa before the crusades lent itself to that many fashion opportunities and while we aren’t sure of his exact status, i don’t think any of the guard were particularly wealthy (except possibly yusuf as the son of merchants) and being a priest at the time i’m sure didn’t make him wealthy in his adulthood either

And while he’s lived 900+ years, the way you grew up doesn’t just leave you, he was at least catholic, and i still think he holds his faith close, just in a different way now

Plus look at his tac outfit, the most comfortable looking (it is a hoodie after all) and he has half a dozen guns strapped to himself along with sword, he wants the ability to carry his things comfortably without impeding him in any way, he wants to be totally and completely prepared and is very much the typical dad in this sense, everything must be on hand so he can protect those he loves

Also you know this man owns cargo pants much to joe’s dismay

joe

we all know joe is the fashionable male among the guard, i mean the backwards baseball cap and the zipper pants? yeah

in his tac outfit, the hat really adds nothing to it besides aesthetic, it’s not shielding his eyes from the sun because he’s wearing sunglasses and it doesn’t aid him in any way during a fight unless he had decided to pull a booker and do “whatever works” and just like hit someone with it - it’s a purely aesthetic choice

but joe was the child of merchants and lived in an area with a rich history of colorful and beautiful fashion, the region was known for the lightweight fabrics and light silks that during the crusades, many were brought back to europe and astounded the europeans

i think that has stayed with joe, that complete appreciation and awe at the craft of making clothing and using clothing to show yourself and personality 

joe is also a man of the arts, there was so much poetry and arts in the maghreb region, and while that existed in italy as well, nicky was a priest and probably wasn’t exposed to it much outside a religious context

joe is also an artist himself, he has such a grand appreciation for aesthetics and while clothing purely for aesthetics isn’t practical for the life they live unless they are on a break, he manages to infuse his clothing with his personality nonetheless

the backwards hat was fun, unnecessary but it also didn’t get in the way of his fighting. he probably just enjoyed the look (and i know we all did too) and the leather jacket with the hoodie and zippered pants at the end scene was just such an effortless cool look that was still practical but had a lot more personality and an attempted look™ than say nicky and his dad jacket

nile

most of what nile is wearing in the movie isn’t her choice of clothing, not that i don’t think she’d absolutely pick out that green bomber jacket but in the movie she wasn’t the one who picked it, it was packed for her

but the outfit she wears in the end is just like her, trendy and young and refreshing given that the rest of the guard sticks to their own styles they’ve been in the whole movie

but nile is the one who is most likely to branch out, she’s only in her late 20s and by her last scene in the movie it’s only been maybe a week or so since she became immortal, she hasn’t evolved a ‘be ready to fight’ kind of fashion and doesn’t have the hundreds of years of experience telling her to buy things that she can fight in as well as sleep in - now she was in the marines so to some extent but not with her own personal clothing choices

despite her chaotic introduction to being immortal, it won’t set in for a while that their lives are running from one danger to the next, taking breaks when they can, especially with andy’s renewed commitment to the job she and the others set out to accomplish, her clothing style will probably change as she settles into this new life

but we can see in her last scene, she is wearing comfortable clothing, a fitted shirt with a stylish yet somewhat more loose fitting jacket and looser pants (they look like joggers and i can’t completely remember if they are or not)

so while her clothes are comfortable, they are more fashionable than any of the others, and while this probably has lots to do with her age i think it’s very important to her current state of mind

she’s had the most insane weeks of her life, found out she’s not going to die for a very long time, found out there are others like her, and had to say goodbye to her family without seeing them again because she’s decided to stick with her new life

and this is a massive change for her, after being in the military for quite a few years, assuming she joined when she around 18-20 which i think she did enlist then especially given the fact that her dad passed when she was younger

life in the military is very controlled, so her having this sudden new gift but also this vast wide open future is probably terrifying to her, so much has changed so quickly, she hasn’t had the time to properly sort through how she’s feeling and truly realizing what this life means

her clothes are a reflection of one thing in her life she can currently control because she can’t control what’s going to happen in the world and where copley will find them a job or where they will be at any one time but she has control over herself so she dresses herself how she wants, how she’d dress if she was home

it’s some semblance of normality, some piece of herself that hasn’t changed and that she wants to express

quynh

while we don’t see quynh much besides in flashbacks and then in the final scene i think fashion is going to be something important to her

she spent 500 years drowning, unable to do anything, unable to save herself

nile said she was feeling insane and angry, quynh spent 500 years without an ounce of control over what was happening to her and regaining her life is something she is not going to take for granted

she’s going to live her life to the fullest, which includes wearing whatever she likes and wearing the colors she loves and the clothing that makes her feel beautiful and badass and powerful - a little like andy and a little like nile

it’s a huge part of her life she’s regained, clothing is something the whole world sees and part of how we perceive people and in a world that she doesn’t know at all she’ll want to craft herself an image because clothing is still one thing she can understand - the styles are all different but i have no doubts it’s something she took to quite quickly, having something she can control completely

[akindofmagictoo]

manuscript search tag game

@sleepyowlwrites my sticky little hands found a second tag and this one is the one for treasure, trying, tomorrow, tired, teeth 

treasure (Hurricane) 

“Well, this could be a problem,” said Aella, and Theo had to agree. The Firebird was very much no longer where they’d left it. 

Tempest began, “I thought you said—”

“It was here,” Theo said. “They must have taken it in the meantime.” 

“Figures,” said Aella. “They probably wanted to loot it.” 

Tempest pulled a face. “Good thing Nunez didn’t leave any treasure aboard. Apart from the strongbox, but he doesn’t know I know where it is. I doubt anyone else will find it.

trying (Dragonsong) 

Isi didn’t budge. “From the look on your face, you’d quite like to warm yourself by my fire. If that’s true, I’d like to know who you are before I let down my guard.” 

“I could kill you where you stand.” 

“I doubt it.” His reflexes might be quicker than they looked, but it sounded more like he was trying to bluff. Unfortunately for him, threatening her would not work. If he couldn’t answer a civil question, she wouldn’t give in. “Try again,” she said. “What’s your name? What brings you to my fire in the middle of the night?” 

He stood silent for a moment, the muscles in his face working as he thought. Then finally, he said, “My name is S.B.” 

tomorrow (Dragonsong) 

When she got back to the room, Isi was glad to remove her boots and leave them off. She was also glad to be rid of her armour and chainmail; she didn’t need it here. One glance at her surcoat told her that despite the rain, it wasn’t clean. Her shirt and trousers would dry, but she’d need to wear a fresh surcoat tomorrow. It was important to present herself well. As a knight, she represented the Crown, really. Clean clothes and armour were an important part of that impression. 

tired (Dragonsong ft Big Sister Friend Isi) 

She set a plate in front of him, and one in front of her own chair, and set to eating. Robin, for all his tiredness, ate enthusiastically. Halfway through her meal, she said, “Is Enya alright?” 

“Fine,” mumbled Robin through a mouthful of food. 

Isi shot him a reprimanding look, though it was partially in jest. 

Robin chewed, swallowed and continued, “She’s under my bed. I set up a… magical barrier, essentially. The hiding spell.” He ate another mouthful. 

teeth (Dragonsong) [this is gonna be edited to be Not A Wolf but I needed something similar to the vibe in my head so that I could actually write the scene] 

The wolf leapt, almost too fast to see. One moment it was standing and the next the wolf was bearing down on her, claws extended. She tried to dodge. Too slow. White-hot pain sliced into her upper arm. Her sword dropped from her hand. The wolf’s momentum slammed her down on her back. 

She coughed. Could she choke the wolf? She reached her uninjured arm up, trying to find a throat to close her fingers around, but all of a sudden it seemed to be all snapping teeth and thick saliva. 

I shall tag @zmlorenz @writingonesdreams @namelessrosewrites @ardawyn @moononherwings and @mel-writes-with-her-dragons to find scrunch, iron, coast, frown 

[ettawritesnstudies]

I'd love to see a height line up of some of your ocs!!! (from the one drawing meme!!)

Hi! Sorry this is so late, it ended up being a whole lot more in depth than I expected, but it was a fun chance to flesh out some character designs! 

Send me a # and I’ll draw a group of my OCs based off the prompt

[Image Description]

A photo of a greyscale pencil drawing showing 6 characters standing in a line on the page of the sketchbook. From left to right, first is Stephan. Comparitavely, he’s the tallest, standing at 6′4″ (193 cm). He has long straight blonde hair, but it’s tucked into a cloak. He looks to the side at Seth, and wears a simple shirt and breeches underneath the cloak. 

Next is Madelyn. She’s shorter, standing at 5′5″ (165 cm). She’s carrying a stack of books, looking up at Seth next to her and has her mouth open as if she’s talking to him. She has long wavy blonde hair, wears a poofy-sleeved shirt under a bodice, and a long skirt that swirls around her. 

Next is Seth. He’s almost as tall as his older brother Stephan, at 6′2″ (188 cm). He’s smiling down at Madelyn and rests his hand on a sword at his side. He has wavy auburn hair that’s cut to his chin and pushed behind his ear. He wears a tunic with a crest over a chainmail shirt, breeches, shinguards, and fighting boots. 

In the middle is Raiden. He’s an Avian, which means he has a human-like body shape and face, but feathers instead of hair and 4 wings that are partially obscured behind the other characters. He’s based off a starling, so his feathers are black with white tips on the top-side and white underneath. He’s not standing, but rather flying with one leg up and the other half bent, just above Alric’s head, and has his hand up as if he’s measuring his height against himself. Under his feet is my writing saying “Raiden, that’s cheating!” In reality, he’s only 4′8″. He’s wearing a hooded tunic with a belt and breeches. 

Next is Alric. He’s 5′10″ and turning to scold Raiden with his finger pointing up at the Avian. His other hand is holding a book. His hair is long - down to past his waist - straight and black. He wears a simple shirt and trousers under a long coat with loose sleeves. 

On the far right is Weswin. In the story, he’s got a magical disability which makes his appearance constantly and uncontrollably shift depending on the magic of the surrounding area. He’s rarely in his “true form”, so I drew him with an appearance mimicking a combination of the other characters. He’s as tall as Stephan and peering over Alric’s shoulder to read his book and has the same straight black hair as Alric but only shoulder length. He wears one of those poofy pirate shirts and has his hands behind his back (because I ran out of room on the paper, oops). He also wears a vest, breeches with a wide belt and big buckle, and black knee high boots. Contrary to his design, he is not a pirate, just a vagabond. 

[End Image ID.]

[sinner-as-saint]

Heaven.

Stucky Royal AU.  

MAIN MASTERLIST. 

Run-through: King Steve returns to his kingdom; victorious and wounded. The recent battle was a massacre but the King fought bravely. He’s been gone for a while, and when he returns home; he sees some minor changes in his kingdom. For instance, he now has a new manservant named Bucky. And the King quickly finds himself completely spellbound by the latter.

Themes: smut, fluff, Steve x Bucky.

A/N: I’m doing it, I’m finally writing a Steve x Bucky fic. Also, this is kinda long because I got carried away…sorry.

The entire kingdom was in a chaotic state. Everybody was running around, preparing and setting up tents to tend to the wounded soldiers who were expected to return before the evening.

The castle was in a rush as they prepared for celebration to welcome their victorious King back home. Lords and servants alike got busy in preparing for the feast tonight; a ceremony which was held each time something good and prosperous occurred in the kingdom.

Bucky had only arrived in King Steve’s kingdom a few days ago. Originally from a smaller village by the shore, Bucky was forced to leave after a terrible storm destroyed his home.

He moved to the kingdom with his family, and was a royal servant ever since.

A day or two prior, word was sent that the King had been victorious, and that he was making his way home. And those who worked in the castle opted to have Bucky be the King’s new manservant because Bucky was said to be extremely careful, punctual and kind.

A servant fit for a King.

  On the day that the King, his knights and his soldiers were to return; Bucky was nervous. He hadn’t seen the King yet, but he had heard of him.

People told him that the King was just, and good-hearted but head-strong. Almost every girl in the kingdom said he was extremely handsome, and he was respected by absolutely everyone.

That evening, while the rest of the castle was preparing for the feast, Bucky was constantly being instructed by people on how he should handle the King’s affairs from now on. Being the King’s personal manservant was, after all, a huge responsibility.

 “You are to run him a bath, make sure it’s warm enough but not too hot. You will tend to his wounds and then help him get ready for the celebration in the main hall. Also, make sure his capes are all ironed. You understand, Bucky?” the tall, blond man in front of Bucky asked.

Lord Thor was currently instructing Bucky on how he should cater for the King, but Bucky was having trouble in focusing on what he said because he was lost in his pretty blue eyes.

 Bucky was different than boys his age, he had noticed that a while ago and he understood it better after coming to the kingdom.

While most 22 year old young men spent their time wooing girls at work, or drinking at the taverns, showing off and flirting with the ladies there; Bucky often found himself staring dreamily at the knights and the Lords of the castle.

So far, he internally admitted that Lord Thor was indeed the most handsome. He had blond hair, he was tall and strong and he was very skilled with a sword. He had blue eyes and he was quite intimidating. Lord T’Challa was a close second, then Lord Stephen was in third place, and a certain Knight named Loki was fourth in Bucky’s list. 

Bucky admitted that he was indeed very infatuated by Thor.

But he couldn’t let it show. Although deep friendship between two men was highly respected, any other relationship more intimate than that was not socially acceptable at the time.

 Sighing mentally, Bucky nodded at Thor’s words. The latter smiled, proud and content that there was someone responsible who would be looking after their King.

Thor placed his large hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate pat and squeezed his shoulder slightly.

Bucky’s heartbeat quickened at the action.

 “You’re a capable young man, Bucky.” and with that said, Lord Thor left Bucky and walked till the end of the hallway.

 Bucky stood there and watched him leave. Sighing out loud, he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks as soon as the words of praise left Thor’s mouth. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat the moment Thor’s hand touched his shoulder. Yet, he did a good job a hiding it.

Each time Thor would look at him, or asked him to run errands or anything, Bucky would feel a warmth flow through him. And whenever he was praised by Thor, he’d have to hide his face because he would get flustered and blush so much.

And he thought no man would ever make him feel as warm and tingly as Thor made him feel.

 But that was until he saw the King in person.

 King Steve was a tall, strong man with longish dark hair. Although battle wounded, he managed to make Bucky’s heart skip a beat just by looking into his eyes. There was something about his manner which screamed power and authority, he was the King after all.

 “… and this, Sire, is Bucky. He’s your new manservant,” as one of the Lords introduced Bucky to the King, the latter could not help but feel something stir inside him as he looked down at the blue-eyed young servant boy.

He was not very muscular, but he seemed quite strong. He seemed young, and had warm, blue eyes. Dare he say, the King found Bucky to be rather handsome for a servant boy.

He smiled faintly at the young man, and asked his Lords to leave and told them that he’d see them at the feast later.

They all left immediately, leaving only Bucky and the King in the latter’s royal chamber.

 Bucky immediately had to peel his eyes off the King because it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help but feel a warmth deep within him; more fiery than what he felt around Thor. And Bucky instantly knew he was done for. As if there weren’t enough handsome men around him already, the King just had to be this gorgeous.

Even with blood stains all over him, Steve still managed to make Bucky weak enough that the latter was ready to drop to his knees and obey each word which would escape his King’s mouth.

 Get it together Bucky!

He chided himself as he stopped eyeing the King inappropriately for a moment.  

 “Should I run you a bath, Your Majesty?” Bucky asked, trying his best not to let his eyes fall to the King’s exposed chest, which could be seen through the torn fabric. The little chest hair peeking from under the fabric made Bucky feel very tingly in specific places.

 The King smiled faintly.

“Yes, just help me get this armor off first,” Steve pointed at himself; the dirty metal armor and the chainmail which were in desperate need of cleaning showed just how brave the King had been in the recent battle.

Something about the King made Bucky feel very small; despite not so much of difference in their heights. But perhaps it was Steve’s bravery, his fearlessness, or his valor. Whatever the case, Steve was the kind of man one dreams of being saved by; the perfect knight in shining armor.

Bucky was by the King’s side immediately, helping him out of the strong metal armor, and the ruined chainmail.

One by one, Bucky undid the King’s gauntlet and placed them on the side. And while at it, he had trouble controlling the very pleasant shiver which would go down his spine each time the King’s fingers would briefly touch his skin.

 As for Steve, he internally smirked when he noticed how Bucky’s hand would purposely linger on his skin while he was helping him out of the chainmail. He hid his smirk carefully when he felt Bucky taking his time and lightly touching his waist and shoulders while he removed the heavy armor off of him; leaving his in his shirt and pants.

 “I would like that bath now,” Steve spoke, turning to the side and lowering his eyes just a few inches to meet Bucky’s blue ones. He noticed the flares of grey in them.

 “Yes Sire,” Bucky immediately walked over to the other side of the chamber to fill the King’s tub with warm water.

Steve walked over till he reached behind the room divider to get the rest of his clothes off; his torn cotton shirt and pants.

From behind the room divider, he could still see Bucky partially. He watched how the young servant’s body moved, and how he was somewhat very delicate for being a young man. He had nice hands, Steve had noticed that earlier. He looked like he took care of his appearance, given his hair was nicely groomed and short.

 When the tub was filled up, Bucky called out to Steve.

“Your bath is ready, Sire.” He spoke, and gave himself a pep talk that he would no longer stare at his King longingly because that was rude and inappropriate.

Besides, the King was-

Bucky’s thoughts got cut off by the sight in front of him. And his mind became a tangled mess of improper thoughts the moment Steve walked out from behind the room divider.

  Steve was in the mood for mischief. He was in a good mood over all; he had won a battle, and now he was back home in his peaceful kingdom. He was on top of the world, and the thought of messing with his new manservant was simple irresistible.

So when Bucky told him his bath was ready, he walked out from behind the room divider… naked. And there was not an ounce of shame on his face as he lazily strolled towards the warm bath.

There was countless towels there, behind the room divider – Bucky knew that because he had placed them there himself just a few hours ago.

But Steve chose to ignore them. And he walked over to the tub in front of Bucky carelessly. And he didn’t even bother to hide his smirk the moment he saw how flustered Bucky got upon seeing him in all his naked glory.

Steve watched how Bucky’s face got redder and redder as he got closer and closer to him. Bucky was almost squirming when Steve stopped just a few feet away from him. The only thing separating them was the tub.

 Steve didn’t say anything as he stepped into the tub, sighing in comfort as he sat down and leaned back against the side of the tub; all while still facing Bucky; smirking just a little.

 The latter was a mess.

All the pep talk he gave himself was out of the window the moment he saw the King naked. He was a little shy to admit it openly, but he knew deep within him the he would most definitely dream about the King for many, many days in the near future.

The King was wounded in certain places, and he looked just a little sleep deprived; but he was fit. He was much larger than Bucky, he was muscular in all the right places. Broad shoulders, thick thighs and a thick cock – the King was a perfect dream.

No wonder the ladies would not stop talking about him, ever. His magnificence was definitely unmatched. And in that moment, Bucky subconsciously admitted to himself that Thor was now the second most handsome men he had seen in the Kingdom.

 “What’s got you blushing like a maiden, Bucky?” Steve asked, clearly making it his life’s mission to see how much he could tease the young man in front of him, before the latter crumbles.

At the sound of his name leaving the King’s lips, Bucky peeled his eyes off him and looked around for a bit, trying his hardest to come up with an excuse which was anything but the truth.

 “It’s … uh, it’s because it’s quite warm in here, Sire. I’ll get the medicines, for your wounds,” Bucky managed to escape the King’s piercing eyes; while the latter simply smirked at how flustered he made the young man.

While Steve enjoyed his bath, Bucky came back with the clean cloths, crushed herbs and the potions used to clean wounds.

 Once Steve was out of the bath, Bucky immediately handed him a towel. The King took it this time, and wrapped it around his lower body.

Bucky avoided his eyes at all cost when he politely asked him to sit on the edge of the bed so he could tend to his wounds.

 The cut on the King’s shoulder was a bit deeper than all the other wounds, but Bucky did a great job at cleaning it and bandaging it. And the whole time, he couldn’t help but notice how close to the King he was.

Bucky tended to all his wounds, and then got helped him get ready for the feast. He helped him put on his clothes, and his cape. He even placed his magnificent gold crown on his head when he was done getting dressed.

When Steve was looking at his reflection in the mirror, he saw Bucky checking him out from the other side of the room. And he smirked again.

  The feast was splendid, the celebrations was marvelous. The entire kingdom was invited; Lords, masters and peasants alike celebrated as if they had won over the entire world.

The King looked at his people with nothing but pride, and they all looked at him with respect and love, for he was indeed a just King who always put his people’s need first.

 While he was sat at the main table, with all the Lords of his court surrounding him and congratulating him on the recent victory, and telling him how great he is; Steve zoned out for a little while. His eyes searched the crowded room to see if he could find a lean, delicate, handsome young man with blue eyes.

 Bucky was there, carefully hidden among the much larger men. And he would discretely send glances towards the table where the King sat at.

Bucky admitted that the King indeed looked majestic with his crown on. His long hair was beautiful, and his lips were just the right shade of pink.

Yet, each time the image of the King being naked popped into Bucky’s head, he’d groan internally as he’d feel a funny feeling all over his body. One which made him shift in his seat constantly.

 Bucky sat along with the young men of his age, but he never felt like he really belong there. He did want to feel included but, they were different compared to Bucky.

As of now, the men surrounding Bucky were betting on who had a bigger chance at taking a girl home for the night. They laughed, drank and made terrible, degrading jokes – but that’s just who they were. But Bucky wasn’t like that.

 As it got more and more late, the hall and the celebrations just got louder and louder. Almost everyone was drunk before midnight, the lights had gotten dimmer and the overall ambiance was just right.

Out of a newly developed habit, Bucky shifted his eyes away from his friends and looked over to where the King sat. Only this time, the King was not alone, he had a beautiful girl with light hair on his lap. And he laughed at something she whispered in his ear.

And in that moment, reality hit Bucky like a ton of brick – right in his face.

There was nothing wrong with what Bucky was seeing; it was just the King and a beautiful girl flirting. He had every right to. Hell, he could even have each and every woman in his kingdom and no one would dare question his decision.

But to Bucky, it felt like a weight had been placed on his chest just by looking at the two casually flirting in front of everyone.

It’s not like he was catching feelings for the King, but he was indeed very attracted to the man, and since the ale in his system amplified all that he felt; he was very much upset when he saw the girl on top of the King’s lap.

And although he wanted to get up and leave the room, to get some air; he knew he couldn’t. Because not only would he be drawing attention to himself but he was the King’s manservant now and he couldn’t just leave the room without explaining himself.  

 So Bucky sat there and watched with sad eyes; the girl spent quite some time on the King’s lap, just whispering things in his ear here and there. And perhaps his stare had been too direct, because at one point, the King abruptly looked around and caught Bucky glaring at the girl in his lap.

Bucky immediately looked away and played it cool.  

Steve smirked just a little and whispered something in the girl’s ear as well.

 Bucky watched the final exchange between the King and the girl and how she playfully held on to his injured shoulder. A few seconds later, the girl got up and left. Bucky thought that the King would follow her, but he was surprised when he didn’t.

The King just lifted his goblet and raised it a little higher while still holding Bucky’s stare; almost as a ‘I caught you staring at me’ playful toast.

Bucky just looked down at the table to hide the color which rushed to his cheeks. Through the chaotic festivity, Thor’s roaring laughter and the sounds of drunk men swearing; he could still hear his heartbeats ringing in his ear as he felt the King’s burning stare on him; but he didn’t dare to look up.

Not when the King had caught him staring at him just a few minutes ago.

 -

 The feast ended around the early hours of the morning. Most people had returned back to their homes, some slept on the floor – too drunk to move.

The Lords were all escorted back to their chambers by their servants or guards, along with their women of choice for the night.

The hall kept getting emptier as time went by. The guards managed to take all the drunk men out of the palace and the King ordered to his guards that they were to make sure that each one reached home safely.

 At last, Steve decided to return back to his chambers. And with a simple nod, Bucky followed him without wasting another second.

Lord Thor had instructed him on how to cater for the King at bedtime. Bucky had to rearrange the bed, and remove some of the pillows, he had to make sure the pitcher was filled with cold water, and he had to get the candles once the King was in bed.

 Once the two men walked into the King’s chamber, Bucky noticed that Steve was not quite as drunk as he thought he’d be.

He even took his own cape off and was even about to take his tunic off all by himself but Bucky stopped him just in time.

 “Your Majesty, your wound hasn’t completely healed yet. You have to be more careful,” Bucky spoke as he aided the King out of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his pants.

Steve smiled gently then looked down at the young man.

 “So you’re the one giving the orders now?” he teased, again.

And Bucky thought that his tone might have offended the King in anyway. But upon seeing the King’s sly smile, he calmed down. Yet, he still refused to meet his eyes.

 “Of course not, Sire, all I meant was that- I didn’t… I- I’m sorry, but you should be careful if you don’t want it to get infected,” Bucky explained and Steve just enjoyed how easily he could make him all bothered.

 “Alright then. Get the bed ready,” Steve spoke and walked over to the room divider lazily to change into his sleeping trousers which were much softer than the previous one he wore at the feast.

Meanwhile, Bucky rearranged the spacious royal bed. Pearl white and adorned in accents of gold and dark red – complete with drapes made out of pure silk; fit for a King. Bucky envied it, terribly. Must be nice to sleep on something which felt like a cloud of comfort, he thought.

As he removed some of the extra pillows, out of the corner of his eye he saw the King stepping out of the room divider, and Bucky silently thanked the Gods that the King was not naked this time.

 Steve approached the bed lazily, a pleasant expression on his face. There was something about Bucky, he didn’t know what, but there was something about his manner which roped him in; pulled him in delicately towards the young man.

Like as if he were under the spell of an enchantress.

Steve watched him from a couple of feet away, and admitted that he looked good in his puffy, black tunic which looked like it was too big for his body. From where Steve stood, he could only see Bucky’s side profile, but he believed that the young servant was flawless in appearance. Bucky even had a clean shaved face; which was rare among young men his age.

Although he was very quiet, he was magnetic. Very, one would say, because Bucky managed to get a King to be spellbound by him.

 “Your bed is ready for the night, Sire,” when Bucky spoke, Steve couldn’t help but notice that he sounded monotonous, and not flustered like he did earlier. And the King didn’t like that. He liked it when his delicate manservant was all hot and bothered because of him.

And as Steve tried to walk over to the bed, Bucky heard him hiss in pain. And he looked over at him, yet still avoided his eyes.

 “Ow!” Steve might have exaggerated just a little bit on how intense the pain was.

“Would you like a draught for the pain, Sire?” Bucky asked, with little to no emotion.

 As he made the King’s bed, he couldn’t help but fantasize for just a second or two about what it would be like to share the bed with him, yet the image of the girl from earlier on the King’s lap chased away his fantasies quicker than he’d like.

And the weight on his heart was back again, and he was sure that he appeared visibly upset.

 “No, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I just don’t get why it’s hurting more than it did before,” Steve spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed, perhaps more to himself rather to Bucky but it was loud enough for both of them to hear.

Bucky shrug as he reached for the empty pitcher by the side of the King’s bed.

 “Well, maybe if you wouldn’t let random strangers sit in your lap and grab you everywhere then perhaps it would hurt less,” Bucky sassed quietly under his breath as he grabbed the pitcher.

Steve heard all of it perfectly well.

 “What did you say to me?” he still had that teasing tone which laced his words and Bucky cursed himself in that moment.

 “I said, I’m going to get this pitcher filled with cold water because Lord Thor said you preferred it that way,” he paused, let a few seconds pass and then added, “Your Majesty.”

 Steve almost chuckled as he stood up again.

And as Bucky started turning the other way to go get the pitcher filled, the King grabbed his wrist and pulled the young man into him.

It being completely unexpected, and having had a couple pints of ale, Bucky could not steady himself quickly enough and his body ended up hitting the King’s muscular chest.

The pitcher hit the ground and the sound dragged Bucky to reality. And he pulled away from the King’s chest in a heartbeat.

 “I’m s- so sorry, Sire, I-,”

 Without a word said, Steve took a step back and sat back down on the edge of the bed; pulling Bucky into him by his wrist, cutting the latter off by the sudden movement.

Bucky ended up straddling the King’s lap to keep himself from falling backwards. And he could no longer hide the blush on his cheeks. Bucky’s entire face felt like it was on fire under the King’s intense stare.

Steve let his arms wrap around Bucky’s waist; keeping him snug against him. Only then Steve realized just how lean Bucky was.

The two men just observed one another intently; Steve noticed how perfect Bucky’s lips were, and how much he liked his clean, shaved face. Bucky noticed the depth of Steve’s eyes, and how wise they seemed, plus how fluffy his beard was.

 “So you were jealous of the girl from earlier?” Steve asked, while trying to fight back a smirk.

Bucky groaned internally. He hated being in the spotlight, so he lowered his eyes and looked down at how he fit perfectly in the King’s lap.

 “I- no, of course not. You’re the King, you can have whoever you’d like,” Bucky mumbled and placed both his wrist in his lap to keep himself from touching the King inappropriately.

 Steve chuckled lightly, and his hand reached out to touch Bucky’s face. As soon as his hand made contact with his skin, one of the nearby candles doused; making the room dimmer than before.

The dimmed light made Bucky’s eyes seem a lot more beautiful than before. And Steve got lost in them for a moment.

The King’s hand cupped Bucky’s face and gently, his thumb traced the outline of his mouth. Bucky’s lips parted instantly as he got more and more breathless.

Bucky had never been touched so gently before, by anyone. The feeling was foreign, but it was something he could so easily get used to.

 “Well, then I want you. Now.” the King spoke, looking deep into Bucky’s eyes and the latter could not believe his ears.

 Without wasting another second, or perhaps it was the fear that the King might change his mind; Bucky immediately placed his lips on Steve’s.

Bucky’s hands reach out to cradle the King’s face. Not wanting to startle the latter, Bucky didn’t initiate anything yet. He just relished the feel of his King’s lips on his; the taste of his lips was driving Bucky crazy. Feeling Steve’s thick beard against his soft skin was a feeling he would remember for a long while.

Steve’s hand moved from Bucky’s cheeks to the back of the latter’s neck, and his other hand tightened gently around Bucky’s waist; pulling him even closer if that was possible.

Steve leaned back until his back laid flat on the surface of the bed, taking Bucky – who was still straddling his thighs, along with him.

Hovering above the King’s body, Bucky tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Steve’s tongue gently rubbed against Bucky’s and the latter could not help but smile and blush even more through the steamy kiss.

 Just then, something flipped inside Steve.

His need and desire to have Bucky grew even more. It could have been the product of the pent up tension and frustration from the battle, or the ale he drank earlier, or it could also be the precious giggle which left Bucky’s lips when Steve sucked on his lower lip. Or even how Bucky was mindlessly grinding on Steve’s hard on.

Either way, the King was more than happy to bed him.

 Steve’s hands travelled down Bucky’s body and discretely slipped under the baggy tunic he wore. Bucky’s skin was smooth and warm, and the King’s calloused hands shamelessly touched him wherever he could.

He lazily rubbed down his sides until he finally managed to get him to take off his shirt. Once Bucky’s shirt was off, Steve threw it around the room somewhere and went back to kissing his skin feverishly. He left marks behind as he bit and sucked on Bucky’s skin around the base of his throat; making the latter shudder in pleasure and moan sinfully.

Bucky allowed his hands to carefully roam the King’s chest. His fingers traced his muscular chest, his abs and lingered around the waistband of his trousers. Just then, Bucky felt something firm press against his tummy. And it took him a few seconds to process everything. Yet, once he did, his entire face got red.

 Steve mercilessly bit and kissed Bucky’s skin around his collar bones, and Bucky was sure that those marks would not go away soon.

He pushed his face into the crook of Steve’s neck and moaned quietly when Steve gently undid his belt and lowered his pants just below his butt.

Steve’s hands shamelessly caressed and groped Bucky’s round and firm ass as the latter panted right in the King’s ear; turning him on even more.

 Seconds later, Bucky’s pants were off completely and there he was; butt naked, straddling the man he had been fantasizing about all day, while the latter left marks of adoration on his skin.

After giving Bucky one last kiss on the side of his throat, Steve flipped the two of them so he was on top. He could tell Bucky was a little surprised, but he smiled gently at him nonetheless.

With one more quick kiss on his lips, Steve sat up on the bed; his butt resting on the back of his heels as he took a moment to admire the marks he had left on Bucky’s skin. Dark red against his perfect skin; it only made Steve want to ruin his perfect body even more.

Bucky was embarrassed under his stare, and he tried to hide his face in his hands but Steve was quick to grab his hands and stopped him with a smirk on his face.

 “Maybe we could use your hands for something else,” he spoke and got off the bed and stood by the edge, “take my pants off,” he added and watched how eager and excited Bucky got.

The latter sat on the edge of the bed, with Steve standing in between his legs as he slowly started to lower his pants. He looked up at the King a few times, as if to ask if this was still okay. But when the later gently touched his cheek, he knew it was totally fine.

He dragged the pants down to Steve’s ankle and allowed him to step out of it. And once he did, Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve’s smooth skin around his hip bone and lower abdomen. Steve bit his lower lip as he held back a moan.

And his cock twitched each time Bucky pressed his lips against his skin. This time, Bucky smirked when he saw how the King’s body reacted to his touch.

He looked up with mischief in his eyes, and met the King’s deep blue ones.

 “You need some help, Sire?” he asked, mockingly. Steve gently gripped Bucky’s lower jaw and forced his lips apart.

 “Open up, pretty boy,” he teased and guided the tip of his cock over to Bucky’s lips.

Bucky’s heart raced in anticipation as soon as he took Steve’s red tip into his mouth. He almost moaned at how velvety and thick he was.

The King pushed himself gently into Bucky’s mouth; absolutely loving how the latter took him perfectly. Inch by inch, Steve buried his cock into Bucky’s hot mouth and he groaned out loud when the latter’s hands reached out to toy with his balls.

Bucky wasted no time in moving his head along the length of Steve’s cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip, and making him grunt in pleasure.

Steve’s hand reached around till he held Bucky by the nape of his neck and guided him, setting the pace he preferred. And Bucky went with it; his sole mission was to please his King anyway.

He bobbed his head around Steve’s cock, taking him well until his tip touched the back of his throat. The sensation was uncomfortable at first, but Bucky quickly got used to it. As he quickened his pace slightly, Steve moved his hips along with him; moving in and out of Bucky’s mouth perfectly.

Steve could not help but groan and grunt each time the tip of his cock hit the back of Bucky’s throat.  

 As soon as he felt Steve’s cock twitching inside his mouth, Bucky stopped and gently removed him from his mouth; licking the slit on top of his tip and tasting his precum on his tongue. After all, he was in the mood to tease the King as well.

Steve smirked, despite being denied an orgasm.

 “Such a little tease,” he bent down and tightened his grip on Bucky’s lower jaw one last time before releasing his face and standing up again, “now get on the bed and turn around,” he instructed, sharply with a low voice.

One dripping with lust and authority. It excited Bucky immensely.

Bucky quickly did what he was asked to; he was good at obeying orders anyway. And as he got on his knees on the bed, he felt the bed dip and a larger frame crept behind him.

Steve was so close that Bucky could feel his warm breath fanning the back of his neck. Without another word said, Steve’s large hand wrapped around Bucky’s slender neck as he slowly tilted the latter’s head back onto his shoulder.

Steve’s lips once again sweetly assaulted Bucky’s neck as his hand dipped down and wrapped around Bucky’s erected cock.

 It was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

 Steve smirked against Bucky’s skin, but the latter was too busy focusing on the pleasure that he couldn’t focus on anything else besides the feeling of Steve’s warm hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. Steve’s hand moved along Bucky’s member gently at first, then he sped up as soon as soft moans and mewls escaped Bucky’s lips.

Bucky was mess, his body shuddered each time Steve’s thumb would brush against his red, leaking tip. His hand gently wrapped around Steve’s wrist, subtly guiding his hand up and down his own cock. While his other hand reached behind him to grip Steve’s hair.

Steve bit and tugged on his earlobe and watched how he trembled under his touch.

 “Look at you. You’re trembling already and I haven’t even fucked you properly yet,” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear with a voice so low and raspy that Bucky almost came just at the sound of his voice.

The air around them was hot, and it smelt like sexual tension.

 Just when Bucky started to thrust his hips gently into Steve’s hand, trying to chase his orgasm; Steve removed his hand from him, a dark chuckle erupting from his throat.

Bucky groaned out loud and just then Steve’s grip around his throat got just a little tighter, while he kept licking and biting his shoulder hungrily. Bucky felt a warmth wash over him, despite just being denied an orgasm, he knew he would happily take whatever the King was willing to give him.

 With one of his hand still around Bucky’s neck, Steve pushed two fingers into Bucky’s mouth for a brief moment then traced those wet fingers down Bucky’s spine; slowly and making him tremble just by the mere touch.

Bucky whimpered when he felt Steve pushing a finger, then another past his puckered hole. Stretching him for his cock later.

Bucky pushed his ass against Steve’s body even more when the latter started pumping his fingers in and out of his hole repeatedly. Bucky felt a sensation he had never felt before; it was taking over him and his ability to think properly – all he could focus on was the King. And his touch.

Bucky pressed his ass against Steve’s erected cock and the latter grew even more impatient and he just needed to be inside him.

So he stopped with the teasing, and turned bucky around, gave him a brief kiss and then pushed him onto the bed. Bucky landed on his back, and bounced and few times because the bed was just that comfortable.

Bucky bit his lower lip as he watched how Steve made himself comfortable in between his parted legs. Steve placed his hands on each of Bucky’s thighs and separated his legs further so he could fit his large frame in between them.

While one of his hands aligned his cock to Bucky’s wet hole, Steve bent down and gave the young man a quick kiss; allowing his lips to linger on Bucky’s skin. He kissed his neck and bit around his shoulder as he slowly pushed himself inside of the latter.

Bucky panted and whimpered as he felt his hole being stretched out by the King’s thick cock; it hurt a little bit, but it felt so good at the same time.

 Once his cock was completely buried in Bucky, Steve lifted his mouth off Bucky’s skin and watched the latter’s face morph into a frown of pleasure as he gently rocked against him. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock again and moved his hand up and down his erected length in sync with his thrust.

Bucky could barely keep his eyes open, he could barely breathe right when he felt how full he was, and how well his body took his King’s cock.

 It had been a while since the King had seen such an entrancing, yet erotic sight. Bucky laid there in his bed, his hands gripped the bed sheet on either side of his body, eyes rolled to the back of his head and with his lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth; completely under the King’s mercy.

The King sped up into him, and Bucky felt so tight and so snug all around him that Steve wanted to spend forever there, in that moment.

Steve’s lust and ego amplified when he saw how Bucky would squirm and cry out each time he pushed his cock into him. At some point, Bucky even mumbled that Steve was too big for him. And upon hearing that, the King’s pride skyrocketed.

 “What is it, Bucky? Can’t even take your King’s cock, huh?” Steve teased and his hand reach out to touch Bucky’s face; his thumb traced Bucky’s lips, tugging on his lower lip as he pulled away.

Bucky could not even form a coherent sentence as Steve rocked in and out of him relentlessly while pumping his cock at the same time.

Steve couldn’t get enough of how perfect Bucky felt, his walls clenched and constricted his own throbbing cock as he pounded into the young man incessantly.

Bucky’s moans got louder and louder as the King sped up into him. He moved his own body to match the latter’s thrust but he gave up when Steve’s thrust became too rapid for him. So, he simply gave up trying to control any of it, and just let himself by toyed with at the hands of his King.

Steve’s watched how Bucky’s cum started dripping down his cock, and he knew that the boy wouldn’t last long. But given they had the entire night left, and hopefully many more ahead, the King was in no hurry.

Although it pained him to abruptly remove his cock from Bucky’s warm hole, he did so just to mess with the latter even more.

Bucky’s eyes flew open as he stared up at the King with parted lips and disbelief in his eyes. He whined when he realized that Steve was only teasing him more by rubbing his thumb around the slit of his cock and smearing his dripping cum around.

Bucky was a mess when Steve bent down to kiss his open mouth; making him even more breathless than before.

 “No… please, please my King, please…,” Bucky chanted his plea over and over again as Steve removed his hand from his cock as well, making the latter squirm at the loss of contact.

Steve gripped his chin and made sure Bucky looked him in the eyes while he spoke.

 “You’re desperate for my cock, huh? Well, then work for it,” Steve spoke in a mocking tone as he plopped down right next to Bucky and pulled the young man on top of him, making him straddle his thighs again, “Come on, ride your King,” Steve added and watched how Bucky shuddered at the tone he used.

 His voice was low, and deep and it sent a pleasant tingle down Bucky’s spine. The poor boy was a mess again, he could no longer control his racing thoughts. He placed his trembling hands on the King’s muscular chest to steady himself as he lifted his hips and waited for Steve to quickly align his tip to Bucky’s puckered hole before he sank down on it carefully.

Despite the fact that Steve’s cock had been deep within him just a minute ago, Bucky still had to give his body time adjust to Steve’s size. And once he did, he lifted his hips and sank down on him repeatedly; gently at first but then he sped up soon enough.

Both men were moaning by the time Bucky set a pace, and although he was hesitant, he managed to bend down and kissed Steve gently on the lips while he rocked his hips against him; taking his cock just as perfectly as the first time.

 The room had gotten dimmer, and sweat on Bucky’s skin shimmered in the light. He had a glow on his face, and the King believed he was the prettiest thing he had seen.

Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock and stroked him while the latter fucked himself on the King’s cock.

As Bucky sped up, the sounds of their skin slapping against one another was soon the only thing which could be heard; other than the occasional grunts and moans which left their mouths.

Bucky felt how Steve filled him up nicely, hitting all the right nerves which he didn’t know he had. He looked down for a brief moment and saw how the King looked at him in awe. He blushed and shut his eyes immediately.

After a few more strokes of Steve’s cock against his walls, he felt a pressure forming deep within him. Steve’s hand pumped his cock even faster the moment he clenched around him, and Bucky knew this time he definitely would not last long.

Steve felt it too, he felt his own release forming. The fire in his loins burned brighter than ever before as he watched Bucky bounce on his cock relentlessly.

 A few seconds later, Bucky clenched hard around Steve’s cock and he ejaculated all over the King’s chest shamelessly moaning and panting as his felt his body beginning to get heavier with each passing second, and he felt a sweet fatigue taking over.

The King came right after him, his cum shooting inside Bucky and coating his walls; making the latter tremble again before his hands gave out and he collapsed onto the King’s chest.

A few seconds passed, and the only thing they could hear was each other’s puffs of breaths.

 “You were so good to me, Bucky. Now get some sleep,” was the last thing Bucky heard before passing out and drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

  ---

Bucky woke up the next morning and immediately noticed that someone was gently massaging his scalp and had their hand in his hair.

He smiled, and opened his eyes gently. The entire room was starting to get bright as the sun rose gently. Bucky looked down and saw that the white sheet barely covered him, or the King.

As soon as the King’s name crossed his mind, Bucky panicked for a moment and looked up rapidly. One, he was scared that now that he was fully sober, the King might just kick him out of bed and pretend like last night never happened. Two, he was worried that he might be hurting the King given he had his head placed on his injured shoulder.

 Yet, as soon as he looked into Steve’s bright blue eyes, his fears disappeared instantly.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re not hurting me,” the King smiled down at him and gently pushed Bucky’s head back onto the crook of his neck.

Bucky immediately snuggled back into the King’s side and basked in his body heat and embrace.

 Their legs were tangled with one another, more than half of Bucky’s body was on top of Steve’s chest; but the latter was far from complaining. He enjoyed it rather.

The King had spent so much time being respected and honored and treated like the royalty he is; he had to always be brave and strong, fearless and valiant that he forgot what it was like to be so casually needed and wanted by someone.

He forgot how calming it was to have someone so relaxed and comfortably lying in his arms. He forgot what it was like to be treated like a regular lover, rather than ‘The King’. And seeing Bucky there in his arms, head tucked under his chin, fingers tracing imaginary shapes on his chest – the King found the solace he had been searching for.

 After some time, as the room got brighter, Bucky looked up at the King. Steve admitted that the morning light made Bucky’s blue eyes look ethereal.

 “I should get going before anyone catches me here, Your Majesty,” Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse from last night. And the King raised an eye brow at his excuse of getting away.

 “Oh yeah? Now you’re thinking about anyone catching you in my bed? Bet you weren’t thinking of that last night, when I was buried deep in you. Or when you were moaning so loud that I’m sure the guards outside were embarrassed, huh?”

Steve spoke as he flipped the two around and hovered over Bucky’s body, trapping the blushing boy in his embrace. This gave him a chance to properly look at all the dark red marks he left on Bucky’s skin. Bucky’s tanned skin was a beautiful contrast against the King’s white sheets, and he wanted to have him there, beneath him forever.

 Bucky smiled up at him, and he wanted to reach out and touch his face but he stopped his hand mid-way. Steve felt a tug on his heart the moment he saw Bucky’s hand retreating from touching his face.

Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes to find a reason as to why he might have done so, and he found many.

 “What is it?” the King asked, just a hint of power lacing his words. He never intended to sound authoritative with Bucky, but old habits die hard.

Bucky looked up at him and shook his head.

 “Nothing, Sire. I should go,” he sounded almost defeated when he spoke. And Steve’s heart felt heavy.

 “Don’t. Stay here with me, for a little longer,” Steve spoke as he lowered his face and placed his forehead on top of Bucky’s.

Bucky began protesting.

“But I-,”

But Steve cut him off.

 “That’s an order. Won’t you be good and listen to your King?” Steve asked teasingly, his voice still raspy from last night, while he traced Bucky’s lip with his thumb; knowing exactly how it was the latter’s weakness.

Within seconds, Bucky melted under his touch.

Bucky stayed, and the two made love again. And again.

 -

 When Bucky left the King’s chamber that morning, he rushed back to the servant’s quarters and managed to make himself look presentable for the day. He went about doing his usual work, he went back to the King and brought him his breakfast. Steve stole a few kisses and Bucky stole a few more back.

Then, Bucky went about his day; ran some errands – just the usual, nothing interesting.

Nothing interesting until he came across Lord Thor in one of the hallways while he was walking into the castle.

 “Bucky!” Thor seemed happy when he saw Bucky, and he approached him with his signature smile.

 Bucky was glad to see him too. Only, after last night; he no longer felt the butterflies for Thor.

“My Lord, what can I do for you?” Bucky asked, lowering his head just a little out of respect for the man.

 Thor smiled.

“Oh nothing, I just wanted to let you know that Steve’s in a great mood. He seems very pleased with your service. You’re doing a good job,” Thor spoke and patted Bucky’s shoulder again.

His words made a rosy color to rise to Bucky’s cheeks and he was unable to hide it. Bucky also caught the mischief in Thor’s eyes.

 “Thank you, my Lord,” Bucky spoke politely and tried to avoid Thor’s eyes, which was quite easy given Thor was much taller than he was.

 “So, you had fun at the feast, last night?” Thor asked, a playful tone lacing his words.

 Bucky nodded.

“Yeah. Yes, the um, the food and the ale was great. Better than at the taverns,” Bucky made a small talk, and kept avoiding Thor’s intimidating eyes as much as he could.

 Thor crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles seem more prominent and Bucky eyed him shamelessly.

 “Yeah? And you slept well?” Thor was full on smirking down at Bucky, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

Thor watched how Bucky shifted and squirm under his stare. He laughed and leaned in just a little to whisper into Bucky’s ear.

 “Don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. Just keep him happy, he deserves it,” Thor said and genuinely smiled down at Bucky.

The latter nodded, quite shocked and rather embarrassed as well.

 “Y-yes my Lord,” Bucky managed to speak loud enough for Thor to hear.

 Thor smiled, and left Bucky with a wink. While Bucky wished he could just disappear, or if the ground could open up and swallow him that would be great too.

  Bucky heeded Thor’s words. And he kept his King happy. Little by little, the entire castle found out about the King’s and his favorite servant’s little affair. But they all loved and respected their King and his choices so much that no one made an issue out of it.

No matter what the societal norms; they would accept whoever made their King happy.

 Yet the Lords would always playfully tease Bucky whenever he was running errands for them. But it was all lighthearted, and if ever one were to take it a bit far; they were immediately given the death stare by Thor. Of course, they loved their King for his pure heart, but no one in their sane mind would want to hurt the King’s favorite; for the consequences would definitely not be pretty.

 Slowly, some changes could be seen. The King seemed much happier than before; that was the first thing people around him noticed. And they chose to not point out the scratch marks around his neck every day, or the love bites.

Someday, the King eventually confessed to Bucky that he had feelings for him. And the latter felt the same. And although they never gave their relationship an official label; it was very clear to everyone that these two were undeniably in love.

People soon put two and two together; it wasn’t hard to know that Bucky meant a lot to the King. Bucky started wearing finer clothes, sometimes his clothes were even more expensive than those worn by the Lords and he would parade around them purposely; with a permanent smile on his face.

Bucky’s friendship with Lord Thor grew and he was more than happy to have found a friend in him.

 One time, when Steve and Bucky laid in bed after making love; Bucky mindlessly told the King how he had always been interested in astronomy and the studies of constellations and just space and planets in general, but he never had the chance nor the money to pursue his studies. The very next day, Steve introduced Bucky to his new tutors; Anthony and Bruce – who were to teach Bucky his favorite subjects each weekend.

Sometimes, the King – having had an expensive education himself, would help Bucky with the work that his tutors gave him to do for their next class.

Bucky was even given a chamber in the castle, but everyone knew that it was all for show. Bucky spent most of his nights with the King anyways.

 Little by little, even the King’s council members found out about the love affair between him and Bucky. But they all collectively decided to ignore the longing stares, and loving smiles which were shared between the two men – sometimes right in the middle of important meetings.

Meanwhile the Lords just exchanged smiles and smirks among each other each time they caught the King smiling at Bucky.

Bucky was never too far from the King, they were always in the same room. They spent most of their time together; Steve taught Bucky a lot. And the latter made Steve feel much more alive, in every way.

  Then, and for the rest of the time they had together in this lifetime; they became each other’s habit. They were each other’s safe place, each other’s home – and as time went by, they also became each other’s stolen piece of Heaven.

-

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Permanent Tag List: (OPEN)

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[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Unique Armors, 1: Splint mail, studded leather and sturdy shields of all shapes, sizes and mysterious backgrounds. Fictional characters wear their armor like a second skin, seemingly owning no clothes but their ever-present protective gear. Armor can define a character’s personality as well as their fighting style and fuel a growing character arc. From Darth Vader’s futuristic full plate, Sturm Brightblade in his father’s ancient suit of Solamnic armor, Batman’s pitch black suit and cloak (Or any superhero costume) designed to evoke fear in criminals, Warhammer 40k’s Space Marines and their enormous powered armor, Croaker’s baroque Widowmaker armor, Goblin Slayer’s grubby armor and concealing helmet, the frost covered armor of Prince Arthas and any complete armor set from any video game, a character’s protective gear is a full body first impression. These examples are not powerfully magical or even technologically more advanced than other armors in their various settings but the rich description, emotional attachment and narrative focus allows the protection to almost become a character in its own right. This table of Unique Armor can serve as the physical basis for family heirlooms, legendary artifacts and magical or masterwork weapons. Alternatively they can be found as loot and become part of a PC’s distinctive appearance, allowing the player to become fully immersed in their character’s look and feel. —Note: Some entries call for the DM to “Roll a Random armor” which simply means that the DM can roll from the pregenerated lists on this blog or choose whatever armor they feel would be appropriate for the situation.

A set of studded leather armor made from sharkskin, set with brass disks that don't tarnish.

A set of unrelieved black armor fashioned from overlapping scales like that of a snake over a black gambeson and breeches. The scale mail includes a black cloak with a deep cowl whose flowing length never stirs in the wind.

A suit of cord armor (Padded armor statistics) fashioned from tough hemp fibers, woven and knotted into a thick, resilient covering. The armor forms a complete suit, hampering movement but offering decent protection without the use of metal or leather. This type of apparel is common in places where metalworking and leatherworking are not practiced, such as among sailors who have rope and time in abundance or druids who may avoid the curing of animal hides for religious reasons.

An ornate, highly polished suit of splint mail, whose rectangular steel strips are outlined with geometric patterns of rose gold wire.

A battered shield that bears an insignia of a partially open door. All who look upon the image of the unshut archway it find oddly appealing. A sort of unspoken invitation to secrets beyond.  

A set of profane ring mail armor made of cursed, black iron and tainted demonhide, having been further desecrated with symbols of infernal power.

An ornate set of scale mail constructed entirely of silvery, overlapping coins bound at holes in the centers, with a gorget and armguards. The interlinking metal disks are polished to such a shine that they reflect the faces of the people around the wielder like a mirror. The armor comes with a fearsome helmet with a faceplate capable of opening and closing.

A set of leather armor fashioned from griffon hide. Tooled into the leather is a set of spiraling runes, forming the image of a falcon contained within a storm.

A set of half plate consisting of iron sheets and leather treated with wax. A convex, angular, black and blue breastplate overlaps with a segmented apron and short thigh pads. The armor-plated brassards bristle with sharp, steel spikes. The visor, with its densely grated screen extends out in the shape of a dog's muzzle and is covered with spikes like a conker casing. The armor clatters and grinds whenever its bearer moves around.

A beautifully crafted steel breastplate sized for a halfling or gnome, depicting seven mountaintops; the holy symbol of Yondalla, the halfling goddess.

-Click Here for homebrew Masterwork Armor Bonuses to give these objects even more personality and mechanical benefits.  

-Or keep reading for 90 more armors.

—Note: The previous 10 armor are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A set of studded leather armor made from sharkskin, set with brass disks that don't tarnish.

A set of unrelieved black armor fashioned from overlapping scales like that of a snake over a black gambeson and breeches. The scale mail includes a black cloak with a deep cowl whose flowing length never stirs in the wind.

A suit of cord armor (Padded armor statistics) fashioned from tough hemp fibers, woven and knotted into a thick, resilient covering. The armor forms a complete suit, hampering movement but offering decent protection without the use of metal or leather. This type of apparel is common in places where metalworking and leatherworking are not practiced, such as among sailors who have rope and time in abundance or druids who may avoid the curing of animal hides for religious reasons.

An ornate, highly polished suit of splint mail, whose rectangular steel strips are outlined with geometric patterns of rose gold wire.

A battered shield that bears an insignia of a partially open door. All who look upon the image of the unshut archway it find oddly appealing. A sort of unspoken invitation to secrets beyond.  

A set of profane ring mail armor made of cursed, black iron and tainted demonhide, having been further desecrated with symbols of infernal power.

An ornate set of scale mail constructed entirely of silvery, overlapping coins bound at holes in the centers, with a gorget and armguards. The interlinking metal disks are polished to such a shine that they reflect the faces of the people around the wielder like a mirror. The armor comes with a fearsome helmet with a faceplate capable of opening and closing.

A set of leather armor fashioned from griffon hide. Tooled into the leather is a set of spiraling runes, forming the image of a falcon contained within a storm.

A set of half plate consisting of iron sheets and leather treated with wax. A convex, angular, black and blue breastplate overlaps with a segmented apron and short thigh pads. The armor-plated brassards bristle with sharp, steel spikes. The visor, with its densely grated screen extends out in the shape of a dog's muzzle and is covered with spikes like a conker casing. The armor clatters and grinds whenever its bearer moves around.

A beautifully crafted steel breastplate sized for a halfling or gnome, depicting seven mountaintops; the holy symbol of Yondalla, the halfling goddess.

A breastplate fashioned from the chitinous exoskeleton of an extinct species of beetle. The beetle’s mandibles jut out behind the wielder’s shoulders like the hilts of swords, framing the wielder’s head between the enormous spiked pincers.  

A dwarf sized wooden sizing mold with a doublet of padded armor on it.

A wooden shield bound in human leather that's held in place with a rim of beaten copper. The skin is completely covered in a complex tattoo that appears to be some sort of map.

A suit of plate armor which glistens as if it had been polished yesterday. The name of every warrior to ever don the armor has been inscribed upon the front and back of the chest plate, covering nearly every inch of its surface with precisely written, black runes. A careful inspection of the armor will reveal that there remains room for one last name.

A dented but serviceable set of half plate, bearing an odd swirling design on the back plate.

A set of ring mail fashioned to fit the torso of a human child but could also be worn by a gnome or halfling. The scratches and wear on the metal indicate that it’s seen heavy use.

A set of leather armor designed to be worn by a large dog or wolf. The leather barding is covered in a camouflage pattern of mottled greens, browns and blacks to aid the animal to blend into natural environments. ---Note: If armor for animals doesn’t have statistics in your game try using the following rules. A combat trained wolf or dog is considered trained in wearing barding, including any animal companion granted by a class feature or magic spell. A PC who transforms himself into a canine is considered proficient with the barding if they were proficient in leather armor as a human. It takes one minute for another creature to strap the canine into the armor or to remove it. The barding increases the canine’s armor class or physical defenses as if he was as if he was properly wielding a shield (Typically a +2).

A large suit of imposing plate mail which has the face of Kord, the god of storms and the lord of battle, engraved on its front.

A lightweight, oval shaped wicker shield, decorated with the image of a pair of intertwined snakes. The shield is as tall as an adult man and as wide as his shoulders.

A chainmail shirt that protects the wielder’s torso while leaving his limbs free and mobile. A layer of quilted fabric underneath it prevents chafing and cushions the impact of blows. Found alongside it is a good, rounded, steel cap.

A suit of tightly woven reeds that when worn covers the entire body, offering slightly more protection than normal clothes. Knowledgeable PC’s know this wicker armor (Padded armor statistics) is a poor solider’s, militia member’s or peasant fighter’s last resort and while it does have the advantage of being cheap to make and maintain as well as being lightweight, it is bulky, loud and barely more protection than regular clothes.

A set of leather armor whose breastplate and shoulder protectors are made of leather that has been stiffened by boiling in oil. The rest of the armor consists of softer, more flexible leather.

An extremely large, circular convex war shield with tooled geometrical designs and half round hide handle on the obverse. The shield is made from hippopotamus leather and is more resistant to the wear and tear of rain and water damage than standard bovine leather.

A set of leather armor that is light and flexible while still being able to ward off sword-blows. Crafted from rigid buffalo leather, the armor is strong enough to provide all the protection that a nimble wielder might encounter, while also light enough to let the wielder retain all the mobility and agility that he desires. The armor is a lamellar style breastplate, consisting of shoulder straps attached to lames, or wide leather bands, which are layered horizontally down the core to create a strong and solid defense. The edges of these leather bands are stylized with edged shapes and secured with riveted patterns, which not only enhances its strength and durability, but also infuses an element of style and flair into the armor, as well

A set of brigandine (Splint mail) constructed of a coat of leather plates, each plate consisting of leather with a strip of steel inside it. The armor’s outer layer is a richly dyed velvet with gilded trim projects an impressive image and wouldn’t be out of place worn by a high status individual in a lord’s court.

A set of studded leather armor made from tough but flexible leather (Not hardened leather as with normal leather armor) reinforced with close-set metal rivets.

A sleeveless brigandine (Studded leather statistics) constructed from a garment of heavy canvas lined with small oblong steel plates riveted to the fabric. Unlike armor for the torso made from large plates, this brigandine is flexible, with a degree of movement between each of the overlapping plates. The rivet are grouped to produce a repeating decorative pattern and each rivet itself is stamped with said pattern.

A set of armor made of interlocking steel rings. The chainmail includes a layer of quilted fabric underneath it to prevent chafing and to cushion the impact of blows. Several layers of mail are hung over vital areas. Most of the armor's weight hangs from the shoulders, making it uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time. It includes matching gauntlets.

A massive wooden tower shield that’s nearly as tall as the wielder. A simply painted holy symbol belonging to the minor God of Random Domain fills the entire face of the shield.

A padded leather jacket (Scale mail statistics) covered in velvet and containing steel plates. The armored coat’s long skit is split to the waist allowing the wielder to easily ride a horse. The jacket is elaborately decorated with gold lace, silk and satin, making it beautiful as well as practical. The suit includes matching vambraces and boots containing metal plates.

A heavy set of brigandine (Ring mail statistics) comprised of a leather tunic strips of interwoven steel and hardened leather composing the exterior and pauldrons of pure enameled steel. The armor provides vambrances that cover the arms to the wrist and heavy but supple gloves. The brigandine is fashioned into a leather skirt and includes greaves and a matching helmet. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that this armor is common among career warriors and experienced soldiers and officers for the excellent protection it offers and it's low maintenance cost compared to similar forms of armor such as splint or plate. It is particularly favored due to the wielder being able to maintain a modicum of stealth while wearing it.

A fossilized shield made from the horned skull of a great desert dinosaur. The jawbone is fixed to the rest of the skull with copper wire and the shield’s grip is within the back of the armor’s mouth not unlike a terrifying boney puppet.

A full set of dwarven crafted, plate armor, made of interlocking stone slabs, cunningly carved for both thinness and strength. A layer of cured hide underneath the stone prevents chafing and cushions the impact of blows. Several layers of stone panels hang over vital areas, and most of the armor's weight hangs from the shoulders. The suit includes hide gauntlets with tiny stone plates sewn onto them. The armor contains no metallic components and is not considered metal armor.  

A suit of banded mail (Half plate statistics) made of overlapping strips of metal sewn to a backing of leather and chainmail. The strips cover vulnerable areas, while the chain and leather protect the joints and provide freedom of movement. Straps and buckles distribute the weight evenly over the wielder’s body. It includes matching gauntlets.

A suit of armor (Chain shirt statistics) carefully crafted by druids from the tough bark of ancient trees and treated to prevent it from becoming brittle over time. Strips of bark are layered together over a quilted sheet of cushioning animal felt. Protective bark is much more flexible than its metal counterparts but does not provide as much protection as most steel armor. The armor includes arm, leg, chest, and back protection, but it does not include gauntlets. The apparel contains no metallic components and is not considered metal armor.

A ratty canvas coat reinforced with strips of bone cut from animals used for food. The studded leather armor was not well made to begin with and has seen better days. It does provide a modest amount of protection for the wielder’s torso while leaving the limbs free for better mobility.

A set of splint mail constructed from narrow vertical strips of metal riveted to a backing of leather that is worn over cloth padding. Flexible chainmail protects the joints. It includes matching gauntlets.

A set of knight’s armor consisting of a steel breastplate etched with a feathered pattern and trimmed with eagle feathers and worn over multiple layers of padding. The coif, which is decorated as an eagle's head, frames the knight's face with a beak-like visor. The protective leggings are fashioned with decorative talons. While worn, the breastplate armor causes the wielder to vaguely resemble some great wingless bird.

A fine set of hide armor assembles from the pelts of several jaguars places over layers of padding. The coif, which is actually made from the skull of a jaguar, frames the wielder’s face in the great cat's jaws.

An exotic armor (Leather armor statistics) known as leafweave, which as the name suggests, is made from forest leaves which are then treated with a special alchemical process. The secret process renders the delicate leaves as tough and flexible as leather, with considerably less weight, encumbrance and loss of animal life. Knowledgeable PC’s can assume that this type of apparel is common in places where metalworking and leatherworking are not practiced, such as among druids who may avoid the curing of animal hides for religious reasons.

A suit of full plate consisting of shaped and fitted metal plates riveted and interlocked to cover the entire body. It includes matching gauntlets, heavy leather boots, and a visored helmet. The armor includes a thick layer of padding underneath it to prevent chafing and to cushion the impact of blows. Buckles and straps distribute the weight evenly over the wielder’s body.

A pungent buckler made from the fungus tinged, great toenail of a frost giant.

A suit of leather armor made from dark snakeskin steeped in mysterious alchemical mixtures. This armor (Which knowledge PC’s can identify as Nightscale) is much like mundane leather armor, except that it is much more supple and formfitting. Many martial sorcerers and war wizards favor this exotic armor.

A collection of silk swathes that can serve as a form of exotic protection that it as dependable as leather armor. The sheer material is nothing more than elaborately wrapped cloth strips but is perfect for clothing in hot environments in addition to its martial defense. Air trapped between layers allows the skin to respire, while the material itself absorbs moisture readily and dries quickly. The wrapped layers are surprisingly effective against weapon blows. However, donning and doffing this armor is time-consuming and difficult, taking as long and following the same rules as for putting on or removing full plate. While wearing the armor, whenever the wielder would have to roll a saving throw or ability check to resist a negative effect caused by hot environments condition he adds +1 to the roll. This bonus is not usually applicable in combat scenarios as the +1 provided by the armor typically reflects a saving throw that is representing minutes to hours of time rather than a few seconds.

A suit of half plate constructed from the shells of giant crabs. The ocean crustacean’s chitin is heavily polished and the inner surfaces are fitted with padding, rendering it flexible and rather comfortable to wear. The armormaking process softens the shells, making them far more pliable and likely to bend instead of shatter when struck. The armor includes a pair of lobstered gauntlets fashioned from a pair of monstrous crab’s pincer’s making the wielder truly fearsome to look upon.

A set of exotic hide armor that resembles a rubbery suit of thick leather, with long sweeping tentacles attached to the bottom. Knowledgeable PC’s will conclude that the material was sourced from the severed tentacles of some huge aberrant monster. While clever, the armor is somewhat crude in design, as if the severed tentacle was simple hollowed out and three holes were added for a head and arms, with two smaller tentacles sewn onto the arm holes for sleeves. Despite the amateurish crafting process, the armor is supple and an effective deterrent against weapon blows.

A simple yet effective leather breastplate (Leather armor) that provides basic protection with good mobility and even kidney protection. There are two hinged leather sections on each side that wrap around the wielder's body for additional defense. The armor is made from heavy brown leather and will withstand a surprising amount of abuse on behalf of its wielder.

A highly polished, silver-etched breastplate. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize that the various etched symbols indicate the bearer has the military rank of a captain in the kingdom’s standing army.

An enormous suit of armor made of thick metal plates bolted and fused together causing the wielder to resemble a mountain of steel. While worn, the wielder is a juggernaut of virtually impregnable heavy plate armor that clanks, clatters and grinds whenever its bearer moves around. The exotic heavy armor is incredibly massive and the suit includes plated gauntlets, metal-shod boots, a heavy helm, and reinforced joint guards.

A rusted set of half plate engraved with dwarven symbols of an anvil and thunderbolt.

A set of steel scale mail displaying the knightly heraldry of a forked black lightning bolt on a field of red. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the insignia as that or an order of inquisitors infamous for their sudden and unpredictable “investigations” which often leave death, destruction and the smell of smoke and charred flash in their wake.

A fine steel, round shield that glows faintly blue when touched. When it is struck by any hard force it creates a small shower of bright, blue sparks.

A vest of studded leather armor crafted from a single piece of hide of unknown origin. The studs consist of various bones and large teeth, all as black as a starless night. If left alone, the armor seems to shiver and undulate on its own when looked at from the corner of the eye

A set of scale mail crafted from copper coins with matching gauntlets. The sigil of the banker’s guild has been stamped into the face of each and every coin. It doesn’t look like it would hold up to blows from steel weapons and may be ceremonial or symbolic.

A shield attached to the forearm of a locked gauntlet, all crafted of steel. The shield displays face of a lion, modeled in exquisite detail. The steel mane seems to flow in the wind, and lesser animals regard the toothy maw nervously. The wielder cannot be disarmed of the shield while worn, however it takes a free hand and an action equivalent to making an attack or casting a spell to don or remove the gauntlet.

A steel breastplate that covers the wielder’s front and back. The armor is found alongside a sturdy helmet and matching greaves that covers the wielder’s lower legs. Under the breastplate lies a light suit of flexible leather that protects the wielder’s limbs without restricting movement much.

A sleeveless chainmail shirt inset with dozens of stripes of white and red jade, scattered throughout the steel rings. When the wielder moves, there is a rippling effect of scarlet and verdant hues as the polished stones catch the light.

A sturdy set of half plate whose entire frontal chest piece is taken up by the image of a winged, radiant eye that stares unflinchingly out through the scars and gashes of innumerable battles.

A set of scale mail fashioned from the alchemically strengthened scales of a giant, dire cobra. The serpent’s massive hypodermics fangs serve as the armor’s pauldrons.

A chainmail shirt that covers the torso, decorated with dozens of tiny ivy leaves, forged of steel and lacquered a verdant green, woven amongst the metal rings. The chains themselves have been stained a dark brown, creating the appearance of armor made from healthy vines or rejuvenated wicker.

A set of armor fashioned of rough, slate grey leather, studded with polished brass rivets. The armor’s chest piece is emblazoned with a stylized black tower.  

A translucent, green-tinted breastplate that resembles thick glass in every way but its durability, which is somehow as resilient as typical armor.

A perfectly smooth, octagonal shield made of starmetal that bears an animated iridescent galaxy design, that slowly moves and twinkles with celestial starlight.

A full set of steel plate mail tinted a deep crimson and sporting a helm featuring a pair of horns, one of which is cracked in half. The armor is extremely conspicuous due to the massive, blood red, spiked metal shoulder plates.

A soft, hairy suit of padded armor made entirely out of black, dire spider hairs, with four strange holes in the back. If the armor is worn during sleep, the wielder dreams of sitting next to the Spider Queen herself, who sheds praise and seductive wiles on the wielder. At the end of the dream the dark Goddess leans down for a kiss and the wielder wakes up as soon as their lips meet.

A small, rounded steel buckler with a surface so smooth and polished it could be used as a mirror to shave with.

A set of plate mail crafted from beautiful grey steel gilded with polished gold inlay. The armor gives a natural sense of comfort, safety and home to the wielder and any allies who sees it.

A large asymmetrical set of hide armor consisting of tainted animal skins, grisly trophies and foul misshapen runes that are painful to look upon.

A shield whose face is dark and reflective. Circles of pure white energy spread from its center whenever it deflects blows like ripples in a pond.

A set of old-fashioned armor (Half plate statistics) with large, flat arm guards on each shoulder and a full-length mail hauberk slit down the front and rear for ease in riding. It is a colored a deep purple, almost black and is bound by bleached leather laces dyed lavender. The edges of the armor plates are gilded and in some areas decorated with gold traceries evoking the open plains.

A strange suit of plate mail that seems to be made from an unidentifiable greenish rock, with various rock plates covered by strange runes. A multitude of stalagmite-like spikes of varying sizes protrude along the arms and shoulders.

A dull breastplate, stained with blood and rust. The armor has a puncture in it, where the wielder's heart would be. The edges of the puncture are rough but they extend out of the breastplate as though it was punctured from the inside-out. The damage is disturbing in origin but not serious enough that the armor’s quality of protection is hampered by it.

A shining knight’s plate mail that is a work of inspired artistry, every inch covered in intricate detailing, engravings and inlaid with finely worked silver. A shimmering cloak of blue, lined with soft fur, flutters behind the armor, held in place by a heavy golden brooch in the shape of a grail chalice. The armor is adorned with countless devotional tokens and sacred icons, from holy beads to miniature pendants carved from finger bones of saints into the likeness of holy symbols of Random Good Gods. The helmet is topped by a majestic unicorn of silver, surrounded by a host of candles on short spikes that when lit, cast a halo of light around the wielder's person.

A ramshackle set of plate mail consisting of a misshapen collection of shields and breastplates, no doubt scavenged from the crafter’s fallen foes. Layered overtop of the various metals lies a tunic of flayed skin sewn together from what appears to be at least dozens of said fallen foes.

A baroque, suit of sculpted plate mail forged from ensorcelled gold. Tendrils of dark energy constantly caress the skin of the bearer, who occasionally hears faint whispering promises of perverse pleasures awaiting the proper host.

A large rectangular tower shield made of seven layers of hardened leather, faced with a layer of steel that is embossed with the image of a seven pointed star.

A chain shirt of exceptionally fine texture and quality. Black threads of spider silk appear to have been woven in among the metal rings.

A shout shield covered in splotches of purple stains that upon close inspection smell like wine. The shield appears to have been made from the bottom of a large wine barrel and is a surprisingly decent piece of armor.

A tower shield made entirely of ancient stone, perhaps from a slab from an archaic temple or long forgotten tomb. Adorned on the bulwark’s front is a scowling, bearded face with leaves and roots for hair, challenging any would-be opponents to stand the test of time.

A set of leaf-like scale mail with a pair of dull steel spaulders resting overtop. The armor plates over the shoulders have been artfully forged to resemble snarling wolf heads.

A set of ring mail that appears to be made of jaguar hide reinforced with disks of polished black onyx, yet is far too lightweight for that to be the case. The armor seems to slowly draw in the light around it, noticeably dimming the area immediately surrounding it.  

A suit of imposing half plate armor. The breastplate has been forged from dark iron, as has the chainmail beneath. The right arm ends in a brutal gauntlet with thick spikes protruding from the knuckles. The helmet is also adorned with similar spikes, and a viewer gets the distinct impression that being struck by either would be most unpleasant.

An unusual chainmail shirt, forged from thousands of interlocking azure steel rings. Further reinforcing the armor is a pair of black leather pauldrons, and a matching chest covering that tapers down to a series of flexible scales near the abdomen. The masterful craftsmanship of this piece combines the durability of metal with the suppleness of leather.

A set of hide armor made from the pelts of wolfs. The armor is in decent condition that offers good protection. The aesthetic of the hood is made from a wolf's head.

A dented and rented breastplate repaired with a bright and shiny gold leaving streaks of glimmering metal among the hard iron. The wound it depicts was a mortal one, a cleft down the shoulder to the navel; front and back. The armor is no weaker than any other, in fact it seems sturdier than other examples of its kind. Sometimes the wielder feels a stitch in his side running shoulder to navel, the kind of pain a toothache brings, with a gnawing pinching squeeze of pain, then instantly gone as quickly as it came.

A suit of plate mail composed entirely of black plates, each joint and engraved line made to fit smoothly over its bearer's body. A skirt of black, oiled mail hangs from the waist, joined seamlessly to the armor as if a natural part of it. The neck is collared with steel that leads to a smooth, domed helmet topped with two spiraled black horns, like those of a dragon bent low.

A set of hide armor that's supple as leather. The material looks like steel, sometimes blackened and sometimes silvery and Knowledgeable PC's will be able to identify it the skin of a gorgon.

A full set of interlocking chain mail armor. It consists of a mail coif, leggings and a sleeved mail shirt worn over full leather padding.

A ridged suit of half plate forged of blued steel, adorned with numerous spikes and decorations.

A cheap suit of leather armor made of cow hide that no doubt belonged to a member of a nearby militia.

A footman’s light shield of kingly steel and poplar, decorated with five diagonal orange stripes on a black field.

A heavy shield made of pebbled grey leather stretched on pine displaying an indigo banner reading “Faith Is the Wages of Terror” on a white field.

A set of plate armor fashioned to make the wielder resemble a demon. The helmet resembles a horned demon head, and its wielder looks out of the open, fang filled mouth. The armored gauntlets have large wicked claws over each finger that look sharp enough to disembowel a man with a single swipe.

A splendid, grooved, brass edged breastplate.  

A strange copper breastplate covered in verdigris and decorated with merfolk symbols that are mostly worn away.

A set of Random Armor stained a rich Random Bright Colour with good quality dye that doesn't fade or wash out.

A set of scale mail consisting of lacquered animal horn strung together in parallel rows using a fine cord. The suit contains a breastplate, greaves and a leggings.

A set of leather lamellar consisting of thick rawhide pieces, lacquered and laced together to form a cuirass and skirt. It's more sturdy than normal leather armor (Studded leather statistics), but only just.

A good leather breastplate (Breastplate statistics) made almost entirely from thick, heavy, brown, leather, providing a rugged, solid level of construction that will withstand rigorous use. The breastplate consists of several layers of leather plating that have been successively mounted overtop one another, creating a defensible and protective piece of armor in a simple style. The armor contains almost no metal components.

A shield made by fastening together planks of pine wood, side by side then covering them with animal skin and affixing an iron boss into the center. The edge is rimmed with more hide and the shield is meant to be chewed up as a battle goes on. When an enemy strikes with an axe or sword, the weapon can be caught in the shield, then it only requires a simple twist to disarm the enemy. When an enemy makes a melee weapon attack that deals slashing or piercing damage against the wielder that misses, the player can use an action equivalent to an attack of opportunity (See Note) to block and catch the weapon with the shield. Once stuck in the layers of hide and soft wood, the wielder and the enemy immediately make opposed strength checks. If the wielder wins, the enemy is disarmed and the weapon flies 15 feet in a random direction. If the enemy wins, he is able to dislodge the weapon while retaining a grip on it. In either case, catching a weapon damages the shield’s wood and leather construction and after catching five weapons (See Note:) the shield is considered broken and no longer provides adequate protection but can be fixed by those with the skills to do so. Fixing the shield requires proper tools (Leatherworking or woodcarving) and material resources equal to 20% of the total value of a typical shield for each time the shield has caught a weapon. In order to make use of the shield’s disarming qualities the wielder must have practiced with it with a sparring partner for at least one hour in the past week. This practice can be done with a sheathed sword or blunted training weapon and therefore doesn’t harm the shield’s integrity. —Note: It can catch five weapons in total, whether the disarming is successful or not. On the fifth catch the weapon sticks, but when it is pulled free the shield is destroyed. If your system doesn’t use attacks of opportunity use the following rule: Once the wielder attempt to catch a weapon with the shield, he is no longer able to do so until the start of his next turn.

[veinereastath]

WIP Saturday

Yes, I’m always so slow with this, and sorry in advance. Someone tagged me nearly a week ago - I forgot to write down to myself who, and tumblr won’t allow me to check my older notifications, because... Well. So I wanted to say - I didn’t ignore you, I just tend to forget about this and remind myself a week later. I will put the rest below, because for some reason this turned out to be a long post for no reason.

Long story short - this is a part of my private, little child - a Witcher fanfic that is purely self indulgence. The main problem is, I write it in Polish - since, well, Witcher was made in this language, so it just feels right to me, I always feel weird seeing it in any other language (same goes for everything that is made in English - I won’t bother to write in polish for Far Cry 5, for example, because I simply can’t imagine Jacob Seed speaking Polish when I imagine the words in my head). So, I had to translate this little piece to put it in the WIP game, so it might look weird in some places, because... Translation never, absolutely never does aythig justice. Does’t matter what two languages are we comparing. Sad world, sad reality.

God, I don’t know why it’s taking me so long to get to the point, so let’s do it. Also, tagging, without any obligation, of course: @theknifegame @spicevalleys @minilev @fadedjacket @refinedstorage and whoever wants to. If anyone will try to look at this, to explain it shortly: it’s a part where my OC meets with Eredin, current king of the Aen Elle elves in Dol Blathanna, (where both of them accidently happen to be there at the same time, having some bussiness with Francesca Findabair), with whom she has... Well, complicated relationship, to say at least. If you know, for example, what a mess I made of Irina x John pairing, this is even more messier. But some of you know me - I don’t like making things, and my life, simple. Maybe because my real life is jus boring, so I try to make my werid self indulgences as colorful, fucked up and complicated as I can... ----- [...]  She caught the material of his crimson cloak in her fingers, crumpling it delicately in her palms. It was so soft, so delicate, so… Typical. Of course, elven-like. Aen Seidhe became brutal after centuries of humiliation, there wasn’t much left of their previous, legendary delicacy. But Aen Elle were different. It was weird, though, seeing such a delicate, beautiful piece of material on someone who was wearing a full set of glistening, steel armour, that seemed to be heavy and so light at the same time. Someone who was clearly always prepared for war. He was war and death incarnated, and yet there was this weird delicacy.     He was still Aen Elle, after all. He might be the King of the Wild Hunt, but he will also always be an elf.     “So, you did miss me. To some extent. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but this is something that could be called a sentiment, is it not?”    He was smug, and there was this little smirk playing in his lips. He knew it was there, even though she wasn’t looking at his face in this moment, instead focusing on those incredibly tiny steel rings of his chain mail, partially hidden by crimson and black jacket. It was another one of those things that proved how wonderful elven creations could be – the chainmail was covering Eredin’s body in the same way as if it was a silk shirt.     “You, suggesting that I should correct you… Ah, damn, you, suggesting you could be even wrong?” The woman hissed, but not with anger, but amusement, shaking her head a little. She made a one step behind, in order to stand on a marble step, then another one. It was enough to allow her to look at the elf without having to raise her head that high.    “You’ve changed, I see, and it’s been just… Eight months?“    “Nine months and three days, to be exact.” He replied without hesitation, calmly, so calmly and matter-of-factly that it made her heart melt a little.     “Interesting. You told me once that time means nothing for the Aen Elle. You have so many years in your lifespan, and yet you counted months? Days?”     “I got weak.” The elf admitted with a dangerous lift of his lip, and something glistened in his eyes, but it definitely, oh, definitely wasn’t a sign of weakness. “It won’t happen again, me luned.”    “Mhhhm.” She purred, nodding her head. “You knew I would be here?”    The change of subject was something she felt the need to happen immediately, since the discussion so far was reaching parts she wasn’t yet ready to face. She was always weak when it comed to emotional side of their... Of anything.    “No.” Eredin made a step forward, then delicately moved past her and stepped into the small alcove. “No, I did not.”     She was both glad and dissapointed. Glad, because, well, she did miss him, in a twisted way. Dissapointed because she… Didn’t really know if he did. She was a human, it was so easy for her to get easily addicted, a part of that pitiful, dh’oinne nature. He was a being, from her perspective, immortal. With a lot more important things to care for. His people, for example.     “Yes, yes, my little dh’oinne.” He chuckled darkly, but pleasantly at the same time, invading her thoughts. “Don’t forget that, theoretically speaking, your lifespan is also destined to be quite long. Not as long as mine, but considering your age and mine, the difference is non-existent. Dragons are not immortal, but it’s fine, because I remember that you hated the perspective of living so long.”     “Get out of my mind, you know I hate it.” She chastised him, looking at the raven-black hair, smootly raining over his shoulders. He slowly turned his head around and raised his brow a little, an unspoken challenge. “Your Majesty.” She added with a bow and a snarky smile, which he returned. [...]

[oh-atlas]

18, 19, and 25 for Baldur. Elise, and Evara! (Feel free to skip the date question for Baldur)

basic look

BALDUR is never seen without a nice (preferably wrinkleless) white button down and his dark blue waistcoast with elaborate silver embroidery depticting odd, swhirling patterns, this is paired 99% of the time with a dark-blueish/purpleish cloak with similar, yet sparser designs. fitted black trousers and formal shoes. on the road, his footwear is quickly replaced by what he calls ‘tacky footwear’ aka proper sturdy walking shoes. 

ELISE’s general attire is darker chainmail with leather lining, a light green tabbard with the emblem of her organization, solid grieves and vambraces, well worn boots. When not decked out for combat, she wears relatively plain clothes: a light shirt, brown pants.

EVARA’s typical outfit is a sleeveless sheer, fine mesh black dress, with little gems sewn into the skirt and train; barebacked. Matching fingerless gloves (leather over the hands, mesh running up to the elbows with another band of leather at the top). A black metal chestplate fashioned like wings across her back and ankle high black boots decorated with raven feathers. 

date look

ELISE would likely wear a green skirt with little flowers embroidered on the bottom hem and a nicer blouse with a little bit of lace. She’d try to fine a nicer set of shoes, not just boots. Maybe some loafers. 

EVARA would doff the decorative armor and probably wear something even more extravogent. A soft shadowsilk dress with a gradiant of black to rich purple and a plunging neckline. high heels. a h u g e feature necklace that draws, uh, attention. she goes all out. 

modern au

BALDUR is probably still prone to his waistcoasts and button downs, enjoys the same color scheme of white, black, dark purples and dark blues. he’d probably swap the ascott for a bow tie that he would be equally furious about wearing. 

ELISE is honestly is a fan of mom jeans and a loose linen tops. she’s also partial to cute blouses and skirts with a bit of lace or floral design elements! wears simple jewelry, maybe a little silver daisy pendant. also would totally rock overalls or a denim shirt or a jean jacket. 

EVARA would still wear a lot of formal, smart dresses in blacks, dark greys, and dark purples. carefuly curated jewelry and makeup for both professionalism and aesthetic appeal. heels or tall boots. I do love the concept of evara in a nice velvet skirt, a button down and a blazer as well. 

physical characteristics meme!

[dramatisperscnae]

HEADCANON -- GERALT OF RIVIA

Age and Appearance

Geralt’s age is unknown, even to him, but he can remember roughly a century or so. He looks to be a grizzled forty-ish; maybe late 30s on a good day when he’s had a bath and a shave.

He stands at 6′2″, weighing about 190 pounds.

Build is athletic and lean, that of a professional martial artist, balancing speed and strength.

Geralt is rarely seen out of his armor, which tends to be dark brown or black studded leather reinforced with chainmail; when he is, he favors simple garb, trousers and a loose-fitting shirt.

He is covered with scars from old battles, some inflicted by monster claws and fangs, some by blades and arrows. The two most noticeable are on his face: one running from the hairline right above his left eye straight down across the eye to curve back towards his left ear, and the other a small but vivid curve just above his right temple.

His eyes are an brilliant amber-yellow with slit pupils. These can seem to glow in dim light or darkness, though the cause of this is yet unknown; it isn’t quite the result of tapetum lucidum, but it isn’t quite not, either.

His hair is long enough to fall over his shoulders, generally kept tied back in a half-ponytail, and an incredibly pure silver-white, another result of the mutations he endured; an unusual one, at that, as Geralt is the only known Witcher with hair that color. This has resulted in his gaining the nickname White Wolf [Gwynbleidd, in the elvish tongue]

Abilities

As a Witcher, Geralt’s speed and strength and endurance are higher than those of normal humans.

He has a natural immunity to most poisons.

Geralt can take a heavier beating than most people, and heal from it faster; he’ll still scar, but it takes a pretty severe injury to leave a permanent mark on him.

Enhanced senses. Due to the mutations he underwent as part of his Witcher training, Geralt’s senses - especially those of hearing, smell, and sight - are far keener than mundane folks’. He has excellent nightvision and, with the use of the proper potion, can see even into the infrared spectrum.

Witcher Signs: Geralt, like all Witchers, has the ability to cast simple magic called Signs. There are five in all.

Aard creates a bolt of force that can drive back an opponent or blast through a wall

Igni creates a burst of fire that can do anything from light a torch to incinerate an opponent

Yrden lays a magical trap that binds an opponent for a time, occasionally even causing pain if the casting is strong enough

Quen shields the caster from harm for a brief period of time

Axii can calm animals or even - briefly - influence the weak-minded.

Alchemy: Geralt is an effective alchemist after his own fashion, able to create quite a number of potions and bombs for use in his work. His skills are almost exclusively limited to Witcher formulae, but that does still offer a working knowledge of what properties belong to which ingredients.

Personality

All Witchers have - at the very least - subdued emotions, due to the severe trauma and mutation their training involves. Geralt is, perhaps unusual in that he retains at least some vestige of humanity in that regard. He has likes and dislikes, knows anger, pain, and sadness, has felt both joy and despair. Still, his emotions are stunted when compared to your average individual.

Perhaps as a result of the above, Geralt’s voice seldom rises from a rough, slightly gravelly monotone. Just about any emotion he shows is generally only visible in his eyes, save for the occasional smile or snarl; it’s almost never heard in his voice unless you know what to listen for.

Geralt invented what he terms the Witcher’s Code, perhaps as a defense mechanism due to his retaining even partial emotional ability. He cannot turn away from those in need, nor can he stand aside and let the defenseless suffer. Given that Witchers are supposed to be neutral in all things, this can and has led to trouble in the past.

In most conflicts between humans and nonhumans, Geralt’s sympathies lie largely with the nonhumans. Elves and dwarves, after all, held this land before humans arrived; they were there first and are now fighting for what was and should be justly theirs. He does not, however, entirely agree with some of their methods, and will not hesitate to defend innocent humans if the need arises. The innocent are innocent, and the only true victims in war.

Geralt’s anger is not a heated thing. It is cold and methodical, an icy fire that will in time devour whatever has caused it. Ultimately he is a killer; if he draws his sword, someone is going to die.

Miscellaneous

Witchers may hunt monsters, but Geralt does not - and has never - hunted dragons. They’re outside his purview. There are even rumors that he might actually call one dragon ‘friend’.

Witchers only work for pay. Geralt is a monster-hunter by trade and, while he has been known to take the occasional job without pay, it is exceedingly rare and generally a side-effect of something else going on at the same time. Preferred pay is coin, but he’s been known to accept trade or barter if that’s all he can get.

Witchers only hunt monsters. Geralt will not ever willingly take a job that involves killing humans [or any other sapient creature; this includes elves, dwarves, mermaids, and even trolls unless they are truly evil and a threat to innocent lives]. That being said, not all monsters are beast-shaped; some of them make very convincing humans.

Witchers carry two blades: one silver, for monsters, and one steel, for humans. Geralt might tell you they’re both for monsters, just different types - which is technically true; silver works best on those monsters based in magic or the ethereal, such as wraiths or ghouls or vampires, whilst steel works best on the more mundane, such as endregas or wild animals or - yes - humans.

Blades aside, Geralt also carries a small variety of alchemical bombs and potions with a variety of purposes and effects. The potions are deadly to anyone without a Witcher’s unique metabolism, and can enhance various abilities depending on which potion is consumed; he cannot, however, drink too many at one time or else the poisons will catch up even to him as the toxicity level in his blood rises with each dose.

He is fairly fluent in the Elder Speech used by elves and other sapient nonhuman races, though he doesn’t use it all that often.

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Animal Crossing/NITW/Undertale/Aggretsuko Crossover

This is why you shouldn’t give me worldbuilding ideas, because this brand of insanity happens:

So, that pit deep in the abandoned coal mines near Possum Springs where it’s rumored that an alien eldritch being might exist?  That’s actually the entrance to the Underground, right outside the ruins of Home.  Mt. Ebott is not so much a massive mountain as it is a tall hill in Pennsylvania.

Anyway, after the events of NITW, Mae continues to be plagued by strange dreams, which doesn’t help the difficulties she continues to face as a college dropout with few prospects in a economically dying town.  She ends up wandering in the mines again, hoping to find some answers to why she keeps having these dreams, and ends up falling down a pit.  Thankfully, at the bottom of the pit is a bed of buttercups that breaks her fall, and there she meets Toriel.

Not too long after Mae goes missing, Gregg, Angus, and Bea go looking for her, and find the pit she fell down.  However, they are prepared, and set up some ropes to climb down.  Needless to say, Toriel is rather surprised to find three more people from the surface in the ruins of Home so soon after Mae left.

The story of Undertale plays out as normal, with Gregg, Angus, and Bea catching up with Mae, some “criminal” shenanigans happening, and the monsters of the Underground finally making their way to the surface and looking forward to starting a new life.

Admittedly, making Mae their ambassador might not have been Asgore’s smartest decision, but Bea, being no stranger to thankless work and suffering, manages to keep her mostly out of trouble.  Mostly.

First order of business is deciding where to settle on the surface.  Several options are considered, but in the end they decide on an island in the west Pacific a few hours flight from Japan at the recommendation of the Royal Scientist, claiming that it would be perfect for her research into surface culture.  Several citizens of Possum Springs emigrate to the new country (probably named “Sunny Home” or something like that), as job opportunities are certainly a hell of a lot better there.  Several other people from around the world also move to the new country, including a bright young woman named Isabelle, who becomes Asgore’s chief assistant.  Well, calling Isabelle “chief assistant” would be underselling it, as she pretty much handles just about every government position imaginable because she’s a workaholic.  She’s instrumental in getting the government of Sunny Home up and running, but even Asgore is worried about her, though he has no idea how to talk to her about it because she says she’s perfectly fine.

Let’s back up a bit at this point: in the years before the events of NITW, there were two sequels to Demontower.  However, Demontower Part IV, which was the game in NITW, was the last Demontower game to be released in North America.  Part V and Part VI were Japan-only releases.  Part V introduced two player co-op play where player two controlled a palette-swapped Palecat, dubbed Mailcat because it looked like she wore a chainmail shirt under her cloak (debates on the Internet over whether it’s “Mailcat” or “Malecat” are, as you can imagine, quite vicious, especially since the character never got an official name because she only existed as a Palecat doppelganger for the second player to control).  Part VI took things further, introducing two new characters with different appearances and abilities, making Mail/Malecat canon (she was called “Doppelcat”, but nobody calls her by that name to be honest), and allowing for up to four players to play at once.

Enter Retsuko.  She was a fan of the Demontower series growing up, and when she rediscovered it later after she got her accounting job, she decided to buy a copy.  Eventually she started joining online co-op games, and that was how she met and developed a friendship with Angus, who got himself a copy of the game when he discovered that there were two Japan-only sequels.

(I also imagine the Demontower games is partially responsible for why Retsuko is a fan of heavy metal.  The box art for one of the earlier Demontower games was more or less a ripoff of a heavy metal album cover, and when a younger Retsuko found said album in a music store, she bought it out of curiosity and found herself really liking it, and the rest is history.)

Back to Sunny Home, it’s only natural that one of the first countries Asgore tries to develop friendly relations with is their closest neighbor Japan.  While he does all of the pomp and circumstance well, he also has a nasty habit of slipping away and rubbing elbows with the local citizens.  One night, he and Undyne (an entire battalion of Secret Service agents in one angry fishwoman, let’s be honest) are enjoying the sights in Tokyo, and long story short, they met Retsuko and end up at her usual karaoke haunt (Asgore is probably not all that great of a singer, but he’s bad in a charming way.  Also, it probably goes without saying that Undyne likes Retsuko’s raging metal spirit.  A couch probably had to be replaced at some point that night).  It’s at this point where Retsuko tells Asgore what her job is and how she feels like the stress is starting to get to be too much for her and she would love nothing more than figuring out a way of her job.  Asgore practically offers her a job in the Royal Treasury on the spot, as he figures this could be a way to reduce Isabelle’s workload and maybe get her to relax a little.  He even goes so far as to offer her friends jobs as well if that would help convince her.

After thinking about it for a bit, Retsuko accepts, and ends up as an accountant in the Royal Treasury.  Though technically Isabelle is her boss, it certainly doesn’t feel like it.  Not that it slows Isabelle down at all, much to Asgore’s dismay.

And that’s how you get a quadruple crossover.