#shelter from the 27th of march
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i post from here
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I’ve gotten sick this week ( nausea ) and my first thought, like a normal person, was just wishing my manager didn’t leave me in shelter from March 27th so long that I lose my sanity
#ophelya speaks#project moon#pjmoon#lobotomy corporation#shelter from March 27th#lobotomy corp#i’m not mentally okay#can you tell
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✨Cute Project Moon themed names for your baby!👶
- Angela 😇
- Carmen 🌹
- Alriune 🌸
- Ishmael ⚓
- Laetitia 🧙♀️
- Flesh Idol 🫀
- Nameless Fetus 👶
- Shelter From The 27th of March 🏚️
- [CENSORED] 🫣
- Meat Lantern ✨
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On March 5th 1790, Flora MacDonald, the Jacobite heroine, died.
Flora is still one of the most romanticise figures in Scottish history, much has been written about her helping Charles Edward Stuart after his escape from Culloden when he was the most hunted man in Scotland.
Flora Macdonald was born at Milton, on South Uist, where you can still see the ruins of her childhood home. She grew up in the household of the chief of the Macdonalds of Clanranald, who firmly supported the Jacobite cause. When Bonnie Prince Charlie escaped following the Battle of Culloden in 1746 he went into hiding, depending on supporters to shelter him and hide him from his Hanoverian pursuers led by the Duke of Cumberland. At length, he arrived on the island of Benbecula, where it was decided that he should move on to Skye.
The island was under travel restrictions, and the prince could not take the risk of being spotted. A Jacobite supporter and distant kinsman named Captain Conn O'Neill asked Flora to help Charles escape. Macdonald herself did not support the Jacobite cause, but she was moved by the plight of the Jacobites after the Battle of Culloden, and at length she agreed. She later said that she acted from charity, and would have helped the Duke of Cumberland had she found him in a similar situation.
She obtained permission from Hugh Macdonald, commander of the local militia and her stepfather, to leave Benbecula. She was allowed to take two servants, and a crew of six sailors. Bonnie Prince Charlie was dressed as an Irish spinning maid named Betty Burke, and in that guise he sailed with Flora to Skye on 27th June 1746.
Unlike the scene made famous in the popular ‘Skye Boat Song’, the Prince did not leave baffled foes standing on the shore, and managed to make the crossing unchallenged. From Skye, he made his way at length to Moidart, where he boarded a French ship and escaped to refuge in Europe.
When Flora Macdonald’s role in the escape came to light she was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London. Though she had committed treason by helping Bonnie Prince Charlie, the public, even staunch Hanoverians, regarded her as a heroic figure, primarily because she was a woman, I have little doubt if it had been a man that helped the Prince in a similar way, he would have been executed.
She was released from the Tower in 1747. She married Allan Macdonald of Kingsburgh in 1750 and settled at Flodigarry on Skye, where she raised a family. In 1774 the couple and their 5 children emigrated to North Carolina. Her husband Alexander joined a regiment of Royal Highland Emigrants in the American War of Independence, where he was captured. He was released in an exchange of prisoners and took up a command in Nova Scotia.
In 1779 Macdonald returned to Scotland, braving an attack by privateers on the way, and settled on Skye where her husband joined her after the war was over. She died in at Kingsburgh in 1790 and was buried in the graveyard beside the 16th-century church at Kilmuir. Tradition says that she was buried in a shroud made from a bed-sheet used by Bonnie Prince Charlie.
Given her popularity as a Jacobite heroine, it is not surprising that a large memorial was erected by her grave, which became a popular destination for tourists. The original monument to Macdonald was destroyed in a gale in 1871. It was replaced by a new memorial designed by Alexander Ross in 1880. Ross’s design includes a 28 foot high Celtic Cross of granite, rising above a slender rectangular chest tomb, also of granite. A marble plaque was added in 1922.
The epitaph reads, 'Her name will be mentioned in history and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour’. It was written by Dr Samuel Johnson of dictionary fame, who met her during his famous tour of the Hebrides with James Boswell.
In 1884, just 4 years after the monument was erected, the Skye Boat Song was published, and the popular ballad ensured that Macdonald’s fame would not fade.
Here is a less well known song about not just Flora by Brian McNeill, you can tell through the song that Brian has not got a high opinion of the Prince, something I first learnt in his song Few Gods...but holds Flora in the highest esteem as a strong woman.
Strong Women Rule Us All With Their Tears
There’s a moment of your story
That has always haunted me
When you set out in yon open boat
To help the poor man flee
Was Charlie Stuart’s future
Already plain to see
Did you know he’d be a waster on his days
If you did, I’d give the world to find
A single tear you cried
From the Cuillins tae the Carolinas
You showed us one and all
The courage you could call
From the tears that would not fall
From your eyes
And after thirty years
After all that you’d been through
us been marriede haven’ been a
Just a memory to rue
As you watched your husband putting on
His coat of scarlet hue
To go and fight for German Geordie’s crown
But you never tried to hide behind
The dreams of days gone by
From the Cuillins tae the Carolinas
You showed us one and all
The courage you could call
From the tears that would not fall
From your eyes
And there’s times I think I see you
When I find that kind of face
When a woman’s independence
Has kept a woman’s grace
Where confidence and pride
Refuse to know their place
Or hide behind the easy tricks of beauty
For to me your lights are like the chimes
Across the stormy skies
From the Cuillins tae the Carolinas
You showed us one and all
The courage you could call
From the tears that would not fall
From your eyes
From the Cuillins tae the Carolinas
Strong women rule us all
With the courage that they call
When the tears refuse to fall
From their eyes
You can listen to the song here
youtube
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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 21
RAAAAHHHHHHHH WE'RE BACK AND ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND I CAN FINALLY MOVE ONTO PART 3. The Easter holidays have just started for me so I now have three full weeks to put into the last chapter. This one could be classed as a filler chapter but there's a lot they gain that links to the future so stuff doesn't just appear 'for the plot' - the girls need their hardcore character development before the journey. Enjoy! <3
Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.
Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield
Word Count: 8527
Warnings: Nothing I can think of.
Taglist - comment or message to be added!
Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!
Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)
< Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 >
Part 2: Chapter 21 -
Interesting Concept. Poor Execution.
Brontide (Definition): The low rumble of distant thunder. (Noun / Origin: Greek /ˈbrän‧ˌtīd)
Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 27th March 2940 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Astron, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)
4 MONTHS LATER
“I’m so happy you allowed me to accompany you three! It’s not every day I’m able to spare time for trip like this.” Gladiola smiled gratefully at the three of us.
--
After begging Bilbo to let us travel to Bree for a good month, he finally let up, but only agreed if we went in the spring, strongly insisting we wouldn’t survive the night if we had travelled in the deep winter.
“Bree is a hundred and thirty-five mile trip, meaning it would take a minimum of four days to get there. Meaning that we would have to camp in the freezing cold, because the only proper shelters are at least three detours from the path!”
We had instantly agreed, when we had realised the actual distance, deciding to wait until late March when the weather would be warmer.
Aa couple days before we left, Mrs Greenfoot had walked in on us packing when she was dropping off some spare socks she had knitted. After telling her where we were going, she instantly pleaded to let her go with us, saying how she heard Bree had some fabrics that she was dying to get her hands on, and how her husband was going to be at home full time for the next two weeks, so it would be a perfect opportunity for her to go. We said yes after persuading a reluctant Bilbo, and she shot off to pack, which led to now – on our fourth day of walking.
“Oh I really do hope the markets have what I want. I promised Menegilda I would make her a new dress for her birthday.” Gladiola rambled on as she took in the fields and forests ahead of us, her pace picking up with eagerness.
“I’m sure they will.” Replied Kay, grimacing at the feeling of her aching legs. “It’ll ruin the reputation they’ve built of they don’t.”
“Hopefully.” She sighed. “What are you all hoping of finding?”
“Every dangerous object under the sun apparently.” Bilbo spoke up before us. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it over.
Taking it, Gladiola quickly scanned the list, her face morphing into surprise and shock at the same time. “Swords?? Why would you need swords?” she queried, handing it back.
“To scare off half the town, in my opinion.” Bilbo grumbled, clearly not happy with the reason we had dragged him so far. “If I didn’t want to go for some of that wine they make, I would’ve said no on the spot.”
“Well, we would’ve gone ourselves if that was the case.” I jived back.
“We just want to know that we can protect ourselves if we ever decide to try and find our way home.” Kay explained.
Bilbo slowed his pace for a moment, as something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.” He said quietly, a tiny quiver of dejection on his face. “Yes, home. I forgot about uh.. that.” Though he quickly shook that mood off, jogging slightly to catch up.
“Plus,” I added in an attempt to alleviate the mood. “we wouldn’t be looking to own one if we didn’t think it looked insanely cool.”
And with that Bilbo sighed, back to his usual exasperated mood.
--
The wall surrounding Bree stretched high above us as we neared the wooden gate, its intimidating nature emphasised by the two-storey stone turrets that flanked either side like a pair of unmovable sentries.
Gravel and dried mud crunching underfoot, we took the last few steps, before shuffling to a stop in front of one of the towering doors. Taking a couple steps forward, Bilbo reached up and gave the surface a few hard raps, before coming back to stand beside us.
A moment passed, and only the birds and the rustling of leaves from the nearby trees could be heard, when a muffled rattling sounded from behind the door. A small hatch near my eye level swung open, revealing the wrinkled face of a man, who, at the sight of us, morphed it into a sour scowl, a stark contrast compared to the warm sun that was beating down on our backs.
“Who’re you?” he barked, his croaky and adenoidal voice matching his unpleasant demeanour perfectly.
When neither me or Kay began to speak, Bilbo quickly piped up, stretching up on his toes to try and see the gatekeeper. “Um, hello?” he called out.
The gatekeeper, quickly stepped back and slammed the hatch shut, before a creak resounded from further down, opening another hatch that was the perfect level to speak with the hobbit, giving me a very strong sense of déjà vu.
The hobbit stepped forward towards the open hatch. “We’re here to stay at the Prancing Pony, for a week.” He explained politely. “To visit the market.”
“Oh?” croaked the gatekeeper with half a smirk. “And what are you here to buy, exactly?”
Bilbo didn’t hesitate to flap the list in front of the old man’s face. “Whatever we need.” He said sternly, before stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “I have visited before, you know.”
Looking between me and Kay, then at the hobbits, his eyes narrowed. “Two hobbits and a pair of human girls, together. That’s not something you see every day.” He muttered, reminding me a lot of a certain Hogwarts caretaker, and I half-expected to see a dupe of Mrs Norris jump out of nowhere. “Tell me, how do you know each other?”
“They’re his daughters!” A voice called out, and the three of us spun around in surprise to face a nervous looking Mrs Greenfoot. “Adopted, of course. And I’m a family friend.” She added with a sheepish smile.
The gatekeeper took his time to eye us all up slowly, his bloodshot eyes scouring whatever he could. Seemingly unable to spot anything he counted as suspicious, he quickly disappeared again with a grumble, the hatch shutting with a snap. Seconds later there was a loud groan, and the door he used to speak through slowly began to open. When the gap was wide enough, the gatekeeper stepped out from behind it, revealing his mousy grey hair and tattered brown tunic and trousers. Raising a wrinkly hand, he impatiently beckoned us forward, quickly scouring the area outside as we stumbled in, before he pushed the gate shut.
Bilbo diligently led the way as we trekked down the main street, dragging Mrs Greenfoot to walk beside him.
“What in Yavanna’s name are you doing??” The two of us heard him cry in a whisper. “People are going to ask even more questions if we call them my daughters! How am I supposed to come up with a story about that???”
“Well go with the story you already have! Because it’s the one you’re going to have to run with for now, Mr Baggins.” She hissed back with a smirk.
Deciding to pointedly ignore the storm brewing in front of us, I turned to the view of the building in front of us. “Very Tudor-like.” I mentioned, admiring the dark beams that contrasted against the cream walls, along with the jettying of the upper floors that stuck out, and the metal grid panes that decorated the windows all around.
Kay hummed in agreement as she walked beside me, the both of us in awe of the once-fictional town that spanned across our view.
“It’s nice to see it not pouring with rain and caked in mud like the movies.” She whispered. I eagerly agreed, very happy about not having to fight my way through several inches of horse-trodden mud.
Grasping our skirts, we twisted between people and horse-drawn carriages, finally stopping in front of a relatively large building, the carved wooden sign hanging above us revealing itself to be the one and only Prancing Pony, and the two of us craned our necks to look up and admire the famous building Reaching an arm out, Mrs Greenfoot hauled the hefty wooden door open, and the four of us took our first steps into the inn.
Approaching the bar near the door, I watched Bilbo wipe the thunderous look on his face, turning away from where he was scowling at Gladiola to face the bartender approaching us.
“Good afternoon!” The man called, leaning his round body over the counter to take us all in with a hearty smile. “The name’s Mr Butterbur, but you lot can call me Barney. What can I do for the four of you?”
“Two rooms, if you please.” Answered Bilbo, reaching into his pocket for the right amount of coins. “Preferably split one and three.”
“Ah, you got lucky!” said Mr Butterbur, sticking his hand under the counter to bring out two keys. “You came at the right time – travelling’s picking up again now that winter’s over.” He handed the keys to Bilbo. “Rooms 5 and 6. Say, will you lot be coming down for dinner? I have a feeling it’ll be quiet this evening and we’re serving roast beef and potatoes.”
“Yes, that’ll be lovely.” Replied Gladiola with a warm smile.
Thanking the bartender once again, we set off, crossing the sparsely populated room of tables, considering it was only late afternoon, and up the narrow, creaking stairs on the other side. It didn’t take long to walk down the upper hallway to find the matching rooms, Bilbo handing us our key before he unlocked the door of his own room, insisting the separation was basic courtesy.
Evening came round quickly, our time spent downstairs in the tavern. Bilbo, Kay and Gladiola were currently sat at a table by one of the windows, and I was up by the bar, sipping a steaming tankard of tea on a rickety stool as I waited for Mr Butterbur to refill Bilbo’s wine.
“Say, I don’t suppose you know a place that could sell weapons?” I asked.
He was quiet for a moment, only raising a bushy brow as he peered down at me. Slowly, he set the refilled cup of wine down, before taking a rag out to wipe the surface. “Depends, what kind of weapons are you looking for?” he said lowly.
“Oh, nothing too dramatic.” I waved dismissably. “My friend and I are looking to venture out by ourselves at some point, you see. And we’re looking for something that’s durable and efficient, but easy to get used to, that beginners can handle.”
He seemed to lighten up again, throwing the cloth down as he braced both of his arms on the bar, eyes darting around in thought.
“Are you sure you two want to do that?” he asked with a stern but gentle look. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard the Shire is one of the safest places you can live, the world outside? Not so much. Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave your dad alone, now would you?”
I blinked. “My – ?” I spun on my chair, looking at our table when my eyes made contact with Bilbo’s, who already seemed to be staring over with light concern on his face. “Oh! He’s no – yea, he’s uh, only been our.. ‘dad’ for a few months though.”
“Even more reason to stay!” Mr Butterbur said, reaching over to poke my shoulder slightly. “You don’t want to go breaking his poor heart right after he opened it up to let you both in!”
I turned back towards the bar, a solemn look falling upon my face as I stared at the tankard in my hands. “I know it’s just…” I heaved a long sigh. “I had a family,” My voice quavered as I looked up at him with wide eyes. “No, I have a family. I wasn’t brought here by choice, I –” I pressed my palms over my teary eyes as the events from the last six months hit me all at once. “I don’t know how we got here and I can’t get us back.” I cried.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured gently, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what the two of you have gone through, but it seems that you’re distressed about the sudden change and you don’t even realise it.”
Blinking through the blur of tears, I looked up at him. “I have a bit. Bilbo’s found me crying at night over it more than once, but I’ve been telling him it’s nightmares of the night he found us.”
“A bad night?” he asked, smiling gently under his moustache.
“Very.” I replied with a wobbly grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that terrified before.”
He looked me up and down concerned, eyeing the large pink scar on my hand as I stared at it. He went to open his mouth, when he was interrupted.
“Oi Barney!” A man called from one of the tables nearby. “Don’t suppose we could get another round of mead?”
“I’ll bring ‘em round in a minute!” he called back, before turning to me once more. “Well you two have certainly had an experience, from what I can put together. But,” he lowered his voice again. “coming from a stranger, the best thing you can do, until you can find a way to get back, is to just carry on, and keep your hobbit dad company. Or, you know, find him a spouse – depends on whether he’s the bachelor type or not.”
I choked on my drink at the last statement, looking over at the hobbit with a grin. “Well whoever manages to charm him is gonna need a very strong metaphorical hammer.” I laughed. “Cuz that hobbit has enough stubbornness and resilience to rival the walls of Helm’s Deep.”
Mr Butterbur let out sharp laugh, almost spilling the tankard of beer he was filling. “Helm’s Deep! Blimey, you two must’ve done something insane to persuade him to take you in.” He chortled as he began lining up mugs of mead. “Anyway, you were asking about weapons, and I know of a guy that has a stall in the market square, name it and he’ll probably sell it.”
I perked up at the new subject. “Okay, what area of the square?”
“North-east corner, the blacksmiths.” He replied. “Ask for a man named Seathan Marshsteel. Tall, burly guy with a long dark beard and wavy hair, normally tied in a bun or something. Could be mistaken for a dwarf if it weren’t for the fact he’s over six foot.” He described with a chortle. “He’ll know what to give you, but best you go in the early hours, so the good stuff doesn’t get snagged first.”
“That’s great, thank you so much!” I exclaimed, finally getting up from the stool. Turning to face him fully, I gave him the sincerest smile I could. “And thanks for the advice, too.”
He waved a large hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. I prefer conversations with the emotional sober, than the emotional drunk.”
Giving him a laugh and a wave, I returned to the table with Bilbo’s refilled drink and my own, relaying the information Mr Butterbur had given me to Kay. The rest of that evening was spent in that corner, eating roast beef, potatoes and vegetables along with the rest of the taverns patrons, before retiring to bed for the night, ready for the next morning.
--
The murmurs of people and trotting of hooves were yet to be heard when I woke the next morning, only the chirping of the early birds, the occasional pair of footsteps scuffling beneath our window along with the crackle and pops of the dying fire across the room could be made out as I blinked the sleep away from my eyes.
I laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling cast in dark shadows by the glowing embers as Kay and Mrs Greenfoot slept on. It still felt a little strange not having my phone on the bedside table, the calm piano of my alarm floating through my ears. The battery died on the fourth night after arriving at Bilbo’s, and I had cried endlessly, reality setting in as a realised that the only potential way of contacting my family was gone, unless we found a way back. I was mostly terrified of not being able to see their faces, but managed to calm myself slightly when I went through my small collection of polaroids and found a couple family portraits. I had stored them in the envelope stuck on the back page of my grimoire, for safe keeping but also as a way of keeping them near me for good luck. Going back through the polaroids, another stroke of luck hit me as I had found a polaroid of Kay and her mum, along with her dog Barkley, that I had taken on one of her birthdays, the two of them smiling at their dining table next to a cake glowing with candles, and the large dog laid by their feet. I had slid it under her door that night, deciding to give her some time alone with it. She had come to breakfast that next morning not saying much, only quietly thanking me before settling into her meal.
Coming back to the present, I decided it was time for me to get up. I took my clothes to the bathroom, slipping on a set of light briefs and a vest top over my underwear, an extra layer to battle the early spring chill, then sliding on my shift and finally my pale green summer kirtle.
Kay and Gladiola had roused from their sleep by the time I was sat on my bed sliding my socks on. I gave them a quick ‘Good morning’, before lacing up my trusty modern walking boots, and walking out the door to go knock on Bilbo’s.
The hobbit was already up, calling through the door that he would meet us downstairs for breakfast. I returned to my room to wait for the other two, before taking the stairs down.
We got lucky that the tavern served an early breakfast, the four of us able to down the meal and get out the door when there was still only a few people wandering the streets. The sun hadn’t fully risen either, the rays only managing to shine through the gaps of buildings and alleyways, highlighted by the fading mist as the jettying upper floors kept parts of the street within the dark blue shadows of the early hours.
“– well I would like to see if they have any rolls of lace as well.” Chirped Gladiola, chattering away about the fabrics and lace she wants to try and find, and that if she got commissioned to create some more outfits with the new fabrics, she might be able to afford a new sewing desk. “I’ll be refusing any requests from your relative Lobelia, Mr Baggins. You know what she said the other day? Marched right up to poor Melba and asked her why she was wearing dishrags right in front of her friends!” she exclaimed.
“She did what?!?!” Kay shrieked in outrage.
“I know! I’m surprised you Bilbo haven’t done something to sever her from the family tree!” Gladiola said as she turned to him.
“Believe me, it’s the one thing I want.” He grumbled. “I’ve had far too many of my possessions vanish only to appear in her parlour.”
After listening to the two of them slag off Bilbo’s relative, we had finally arrived at the market. People were still sparse, only a few meandering the stalls whilst some sellers were still setting up shop.
Using the east-rising sun as a reference, Kay and I headed towards the north-east corner, with Bilbo hot on our heels. We waved goodbye to Gladiola, who ventured off with her coin purse towards the colourful fabric stalls on the other side. Walking up the path past stalls selling everything from arrays of meat to bed linens, the smells of metallic blood, spices and cloth filled our senses as our eyes set on a grey canopy propped up by wooden posts attached to a building with a blacksmiths sign hanging from it. Underneath was a counter that was part of the wall, the stall actually being part of the building itself. Approaching the counter, we peered into the shop. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls, even more hung on the racks stuck in the middle of the room like aisles, or on the ceiling like stalactites. The fire in the corner was burning bright, along with the torches lining the walls, filling our nostrils with the strong smell of smoke and the warmth of hot steel, so we figured someone was in.
Kay leant over the counter to try and look around, before calling out.
“Hello?”
A bang resonated through the air, followed by a string of hissed curses. It wasn’t long until a figure appeared hunched from behind one of the tables, clutching and rubbing to back of his head as he muttered under his breath. He gave it one last rub, before standing straight and stretching his back. Placing down the small hammer in his hand, he turned to face us with a frown, though it quickly turned to one of slight surprise. He matched the description Mr Butterbur had given me: Quite tall, about 6’3, well built and muscular, with thick wavy almost black hair, half tied up in a loose bun, with a beard reaching halfway down his chest. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers tied with a thick belt and a baggy tunic rolled up at the sleeves, and covered in patches of soot and grime, his time in the forge on clear display.
Eyeing us up and down, he took his time wandering over, using a cloth to wipe his calloused hands down whilst his face held an expression of poorly concealed confusion. The look increased tenfold as Bilbo peeked over the edge, resting his forearms on the wooden surface to prop himself up. Reaching us, he plopped the rag down, bracing his arms on the counter as his pale blue eyes took the three of us in.
“Can I… help you?” he queried, an accent similar to an Irish one strong on his tongue as he squinted at us, looking as if he couldn’t wrap his head around what was in front of him. I tried not to cough when the smell of smoke increased tenfold, rolling off him in waves.
Nodding, I slapped the list I had taken from Bilbo earlier on the counter. “Yes,” I affirmed eagerly. “We were hoping if you had anything on the list in stock.”
Taking a moment to look between me and the piece of paper, he slowly reached out, pulling the list towards him and picking it up, before grasping the spectacles that hung from his neck by some string, and sliding them on.
He spent about twenty seconds flitting his eyes between us and the list, covering it in black fingerprints until he lowered it a looked down at us over his glasses.
“You three aren’t from around here, are you?” he remarked, his deep, throaty voice resonating through the chill, morning air. “I don’t advertise outside the town unless I speak to you personally, so who told you about me?”
Slightly taken aback by the man’s cautious demeanour, I stepped in the explain. “Uh – we were recommended to visit you by Mr Butterbur?” I managed out, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “from the, uh, Pr-”
“- The Prancing Pony, I know. We’re well acquainted.” He said with a small smile though quickly returned to eyeing us up. “Tell me, what do two young girls and a hobbit want within the weapons trade. You don’t look experienced to me.”
“Which is exactly the problem.” I stated firmly. “We aren’t. And therefore we want to learn how.”
He slowly regarded the three of us with a look, and I prepared for the disappointment of his potential refusal. “Ok,” he sighed, tapping his soot-covered fingernails rhythmically on the wood. “How long are you here for?”
At our silent confusion, he raised a brow expectantly.
“Uh?” Kay vocalised, her eyes dazed in confusion. “A week? We’ve got six days left.”
“And why?” I added. “Do you need time to make them?”
He shook his head. “No.” He stated, baffling us further. Sighing, he began explaining. “None of you look like you’ve seen combat during any day of your lives, so, my proposal is in exchange for six days of dinners at the inn, I give you six days’ worth of basic training.”
Surprised, I slowly turned towards Kay, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. She eyed me back, and grins began to slowly grow on our faces. We turned to confirm the deal, when the hobbit I had forgotten was between us spoke up.
“H-hold on!” he cried, pointing a finger to emphasise his point. “You don’t know any of us. How do we know we can trust what you’re saying?”
Seathan rested on his elbows so he could lean over the counter to face the grumpy hobbit. “Do you trust Mr Butterbur?”
“Mr-” Bilbo sputtered. “We barely had one conversation with him!”
“He did seem nice though.” Kay butted in, and Bilbo whipped his head at her in outrage.
“And it’s a fair deal.” I added, watching in amusement as Bilbo comically flips his head between us, shock evident on his face. “I’ll make you Victoria cakes weekly in return.” I quickly added.
Grumbling under his breath, he eventually gave in. “Fine, they,” he emphasised, pointing to the both of us. “trust the bartender.”
“Then you can trust me.” Seathan replied warmly with a deep rumble of a laugh. “You won’t learn quickly on your own – so meet me outside the inn at 7 o'clock each morning and I’ll give you a rundown of everything. We’ll have breaks at lunch, and finish in time for dinner.”
“Woah, are you sure?” Kay held up a hand to slow him down, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you offering this to us so quickly? We’ve only just met you.”
Seathan pushed himself up from his elbows with a grunt, towering over us as he stood to his full height. “My daughters.” He revealed bluntly. “My wife’s not big on me sharing this but they asked the same thing you did. I said no, and they were injured in a small goblin ambush during one of our travels.” A sombre look fell over his eyes. “They have since recovered, but that guilt has weighed on me ever since, therefore I’ve wanted to offer training to girls and women when they’ve been given no opportunity to do so before.”
Kay nodded slowly, happy with the explanation. “I’m sorry to hear that – I’m glad they’re ok now. So we’ll meet you tomorrow?”
“Come round sometime after luncheon today if you can.” Seathan requested. “The sooner I can get swords in your hands the better.”
Thanking him, we wandered back into the depths of the market, it’s scents dominating our senses once again as we scanned for our other hobbit companion.
---
That morning whizzed by as fast as we would allow it, our nervous excitement for the afternoon sending a slightly uncomfortable buzz through our stomachs, the thought of what was to come prominent on our minds as we scarfed our ham and lettuce sandwiches down. We had changed outfits as well – I now sat in my cream blouse and baggy brown corduroy dungarees, and Kay in her black tank top with some loose, pale brown trousers that closely resembled cargos, and a knitted cardigan slung on top. Sure, it looked a little modern, but we hoped the earthy colours would keep people’s interest away
When we had finished, we wandered outside, only to find Seathan waiting beside the door, instead of where he said he would be by the blacksmiths. Pushing himself off the wall he slowly strode over, no longer donned in his apron, choosing to only remain in his slightly sooty shirt and dungarees.
“You girls ready?” he questioned as he pulled his curls back to tie them with a piece of cloth. Shifting a little, he looked behind us. “Where’s your hobbit friend?”
Still a bit hesitant about his forwardness, I gave him a simple reply. “He doesn’t want to come – said he had planned this week for relaxing and wine tasting.”
He gave a nod as he chuckled. “Fair enough.” He remarked, and beckoned us along as he began trapsing down the now bustling street, the two of us following not long after.
Leading us down a wide alley just before we hit the market, he led us through some of the residential housing, that slowly turned from the fusty smelling, overhanging town houses that were packed together like sardines, to detached cottages with front gardens lined with crudely woven branches to act as fences, goats, donkeys and the odd cat mulling about the small patches of crops in each one. The town was fully alive now, the sun passing midday as everyone got on with their jobs and chores, voices and shouting echoing from down each passage as we trekked past. We were thankful that the early spring weather had allowed the sun to dry out the large mud patches that would’ve otherwise sucked up our poor shoes, watching the solid cracks and chunks grow in size the closer we got to the more rural neighbourhoods.
Rounding one last cottage, we came face to face with the open countryside, the grass long and swaying in the gentle breeze, with the occasional oak tree sheltering a few livestock from the 12 o’clock sun. Climbing over a rickety fence, Seathan brought us to our destination. A large patch of grass had been shortened – about half the size of a football field, and somewhat recently if the loose grass piles and faint smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the usual stink of livestock said anything. Down one of the edges were several wooden posts that had been hammered into the ground, branches and planks nailed on to make them look like human dummies, covered in chips and gashes where they had been practiced on previously. Down another side were some makeshift archery targets; wooden circles cut from tree trunks with white and red paint hastily slapped on in rings.
Eyeing up the equipment, I blindly followed the sound of Seathan’s footsteps. When they stopped, I turned my head to face him, about to ask what was to happen, only to flail my arms out in an attempt to catch the wooden sword that was flung at my face. Managing to grab it at the very edge of the hilt, I darted my wide eyes to the towering man to watch him chuck another at Kay, who had watched my floundering and was prepared enough to catch it with ease.
Picking up a slightly larger wooden sword, he weighed and swung it around as he approached us. “Ok. We’re going to start out with some wooden swords.” He held up a hand as Kay opened her mouth. “And before you protest, I would much rather you get bruises from these rather than deal with a mutilated limb from an actual sharpened sword.”
Pouting, Kay snapped her jaw shut, and we both trailed after him into the centre of the field.
“Now,” he began, turning to us, signalling for us to place our swords down as he did the same. “I know you two won’t gain the arm strength for swinging swords overnight, so we’ll start with some footwork so you don’t twist the wrong way and fall on your own weapon.”
The next couple hours were spent with us practicing out foot spacing and placement, Seathan reaching down to twist our ankles slightly every once in a while, shouting which way to put our feet when spinning around to face potential enemies as we spun and twisted to each end of the field. It oddly felt like I was back in my ballet classes, learning how to walk on the tip of my toes for the very first time again.
Eventually we were able to pick up the swords, learning how to use our arms alongside our feet as we twisted and turned to block his mock attacks that got stronger and stronger each hour, the man insisting that defence was the first and most important thing to learn when it came to combat.
Sweat was running down both of our backs by the time Seathan had called it a day, the sun now nearing the treeline in the distance as the breeze began to cool the moisture on our skin, sending chills down our backs.
“Ughhhhh I feel so muckyyyy.” Kay groaned as she chucked her sword back in the makeshift chest under one of the nearby trees, holding her arms out in front of her as she tried to pick her cardigan up with the tips of her now mud-stained fingers.
“Tell me about it.” I grumbled, exhausted as I reached down to grab the half-filled water tankard, given to us by a lovely woman who had seen us being worked to death by Seathan, who had actually introduced herself as his aforementioned wife. When she had suspiciously asked what we had used to pay him, she had sighed knowingly when we revealed it was several dinners.
“He only asks for that because I don’t let him.” She had muttered amusedly to us as she refilled one of the animal troughs for us to wash our hands in. “He’d be down there every other night stuffing his face otherwise – says Barney’s steak is a god-send. I told him throwing up on customers after eating it all would have an enormous impact on his business’s reputation.”
After chatting to the friendly woman for a few minutes, we were soon ushered up by Seathan, who had hardly broken a sweat at all that day – ‘the pros of working with a kiln every day, you build a resilience to heat’ he had remarked proudly.
Trudging back through the now-calmer town, we wearily made our way back to the Prancing Pony.
---
“By Yavanna, look at the state of you two!!” Bilbo had cried when we walked in, the hobbit gawping at our less-than acceptable appearances. “Yuv’got – mud. Everywhere!” he sputtered, gesturing at our clothes. “Go change, now.”
Snorting at his antics, the two of us dashed up the stairs of the inn, disappearing before we could watch the seething hobbit turn on our slightly nervous teacher.
When we returned having changed into our original clothes from this morning, we joined the two hobbits and Seathan at the table, who we’re all currently waiting for us to arrive before eating the fresh plates of dinner placed in front of them. We sat down and began eating whilst Seathan was recounting what he had taught us as he scarfed down his well-earned meal.
“– yea, they’re getting the hang of it quite quickly!” he stated with a proud grin. “Could say we’ve got a couple of naturals on our hands.”
I smiled back. “I’m just glad we weren’t thrown under the bus straight away, otherwise I would’ve given up.” I joked, but my joking was immediately stopped at the feeling of my throat jamming up, and I clenched my teeth, digging my nails into my palm as I tried not to make it obvious.
Seathan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he glanced at me with a bewildered look. “What’s a bus?”
Staring at him, I remained silent waiting for the invisible hands to stop choking me, and he began frowning as he noticed my cheeks turn a slight pink. I flinched slightly as I felt Kay’s foot kick my shin, and my airway opened once again, and it took me a lot of strength to not heave on the spot. I quickly darted my eyes over to see Kay staring at me, silently staring at me as she realised what was going on. Facing the other three, who were looking at me with curious looks, I racked my brain for an excuse.
“Oh! It’s uh.. just a saying where we’re from.” I laughed nervously, still trying to hide my excessive breathing. “We have different names for transport there. Like, um, a carriage is, obviously, known as a carriage, ha ha, but we have nicknames for it, like bus, or.. or car for short?”
A few moments of silence of passed as they processed my rambling.
“Bus is a strange word to call a carriage.” Muttered Seathan, furrowing his brows. “But, if that’s what your lot have named it, then I won’t be one to judge.” He shrugged before returning to stuffing his mouth with potatoes. Bilbo and Gladiola were already back to eating, used to our strange words and sayings by this point.
I glanced at Kay, only to see her glaring at me with raised eyebrows. I narrowed my own back at her mockingly, raising my tankard of tea to my face. “It’s not my fault we’re stuck with medieval people.” I muttered from behind it.
All I got was mashed potato flicked at my forehead in return.
---
The following five days flew by, Seathan putting us through intense training that was far more gruelling than we thought. I mean, c’mon, doing ten laps around the field is a tad bit excessive, plus, arms wield swords, not legs.
I regrettably voiced those thoughts to our teacher, who then proceeded to have us do push-ups and lifting heavy tools he brought from his shop every hour, much to our frustration. He also asked if there was anything else we wanted to learn the basics in – I had said archery, after enjoying it a few times at festivals and residential trips with school or the girl-guiding groups I was in. Kay had excitedly said she wanted to learn throwing axes. And then proceeded the extra push-ups and benching, Seathan insisting that if we wanted to learn a practice that required a hell of a lot of arm strength, then it will have to be a daily task of exercise for as long as possible before we got to our full strength. I collapsed in protest at that.
By the time Monday rolled around, the two of us could barely pick up a fork to eat, and Gladiola fretted over us as she helped shovel food onto our forks, whilst Bilbo glared daggers over the table at an amused Seathan, muttering under his breath about the ways he was going to set the man’s giant beard on fire.
---
“Oh, you two are going to have to show me what you’ve learnt on the way back!” exclaimed Gladiola as she folded our belongings into our packs, due to our arms and legs still unfortunately incapacitated. “And make sure you give that man the biggest thank you for what he’s done – not just anyone is willing to give up their time for strangers.”
“Yes mum.” Was all Kay groaned, voice muffled from where she was face-planted on her pillow. Slowly rolling over with a prolonged whine, she faced to where I was splayed out like a starfish on the next bed over. “We’re gonna die before we even reach the evening.” She mumbled, face half scrunched by the pillow.
“Now don’t say that.” Lectured Gladiola, whipping Kay’s ankle with a sock as she pattered by with the copious amounts of fabrics and ribbons she had bought, only receiving a short grunt in response. “We’ve got a four-day travel ahead of us, and with that mood, I’ll be forcing you both to carry mine and Bilbo’s packs.”
Slowly pushing herself up, copper strands still stuck to her face, Kay swung her legs over the bed. “Fine.” She mumbled. “We’re up.”
“Good.” Gladiola replied with a smile. “We should have left ten minutes ago, so Kate if you don’t get up we’re leaving you behind.” She half joked as she hauled our packs out the doorway.
“Girlie, c’mon.” Added Kay as she shook my ankle.
Reluctantly, I pushed myself up the best I could, trying to ignore the agonising aches all over my body as I laced up my boots and followed the two out the door.
---
“Now remember, you have to do the exercises I’ve given you at least an hour every day, and memorise the tips I’ve given you for hitting enemy’s weak spots.” Seathan lectured, handing us two sheets of parchment. “I’ve written them down here, and I’ve also thrown in some blunt steel swords so you can upgrade when you both feel ready to.”
Accepting the objects gratefully, we pushed some coins into the man’s hands so he could reward himself with some extra meals, thanked him profusely as we stood by the entrance gate to Bree, trying our best to ignore the lingering stare of the gatekeeper as he peered suspiciously at us.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” said Seathan, marching hurriedly over to a long leather pack that was propped against the wall surrounding the town. Returning to us, he loosened the strings of the pack and pulled the contents out.
“Here’s a set of throwing axes for Kay, and a bow and arrows for you, Kate. I also threw in some polish, oil, and tools for sharpening the blades of the axes and arrows, along with replacement strings for the bow and whatnot.”
“What?!?!” we both said consecutively.
“We can’t accept that –” “It’s too much! – ”
“I paid for it.”
Freezing, the two of us slowly turned until we faced Bilbo, who stared back, before sighing.
“You two can’t be taught all that and expect to leave with hardly anything.” He explained almost nonchalantly, pulling out the crumpled list we had written. “You wouldn’t have gotten anything on your list.”
A beat passed, before I flew down and scooped him up into my arms.
“WHAT THE – ” he sputtered.
“Father.” I said. He froze.
“Father.” Kay repeated, reaching over to continuously pat the curls on his head.
He whipped his head between us with panicked eyes. “WH- I’M NOT YOUR DAD – PUT ME DOWN!”
“Told you he adopted them.” We heard Gladiola mutter to Seathan.
Eventually placing him down, the two of us knelt down to drag him into a hug, despite his grumbling.
“Thank you.” Kay whispered. “For everything.”
With a sigh, he settled, reaching up to wrap his arms around us both. “You’re welcome, but for the love of Yavanna don’t make me regret any of it.”
With matching cheshire grins, we assured him we wouldn’t, before clambering up excitedly to receive the pack of shiny new weapons from Seathan. And within a few minutes, we were waving a hearty farewell to the blacksmith, yelling our goodbyes and thanks until he disappeared behind the closing gate.
Walking through the trees, we chattered away endlessly about the events of the past week, failing to see the two pairs of glowing blue eyes, watching us from the treeline.
---
2 MONTHS LATER
A couple months had passed since we had arrived back in the Shire, and a lot had happened since then.
We had shown Gladiola the techniques we were taught during the evenings when we were on our return trip, and she had pleaded that we taught her kids, saying how they had always wanted to play knights when they were younger. A couple weeks in, Kay and I had stumbled across a clearing on the outskirts of Hobbiton, surrounded by trees and seasonal wildflowers with a scenic view of the town from where it was further up one of the hills. It was a perfect spot; close enough to Bag End where Bilbo could sit on the bench by his front door and watch us, but the trees made it private enough for us to set up targets to practice both our weapons training, along with our magic, without the risk of someone stumbling upon us.
The most exciting part, however, was meeting Bertin Grubb, who owned the pony stables across town. After seeing the lean muscle we had begun to develop on our arms from the training, he had offered us a job assisting him with caring for the ponies, figuring we were tall and strong enough to handle the animals when they were being stubborn. It took a while getting used to, having to bend down excessively to use the small hobbit-sized wheelbarrow, or the rake with a handle too short for two girls at least twice the height of the average hobbit. But he eventually managed to get us some suitable enough, and we thoroughly loved every second, excited to finally be able to pay Bilbo back for everything he had done, especially when doing a job as fun as ours.
Except for shovelling the horse crap.
It stank.
---
Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Friday, 5th May 2940 of the Third Age (Highday, 15th Thrimidge, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)
The sun was barely rising when Kay and I got up, readying ourselves for an early shift when we received a letter that Bertie had received two new animals and needed the extra hands earlier than normal.
Trudging down the path as the birds sang their morning song, we munched on the poached eggs buns Bilbo had shoved into our hands as we were about to step out the door, before he had promptly marched back to bed for a well-earned lie in.
Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I mumbled a conversation with Kay as we walked between the hedges lining the path. Soon enough, we neared the stables, only to see a frantic looking Bertie, who seemed to be nervously waiting for us whilst tightly clutching his cap between his short fingers by the wooden archway leading in. When his wide brown eyes landed on us as we rounded the corner, he cried out in relief.
“Oh thank Yavanna you’re here!” he cried, jogging over to us. “A friend of mine found them wandering the outskirts looking all muddy and he begged me to take them cause they were eating his crops but they’re so large I don’t know what to do with them! I –”
“Woah, woah! Hey!” I raised my voice slightly to cut off his rambling. “What do you mean large? What are they?”
“Horses!” he wailed, dragging his hands down his face. “Giant! Horses!”
Kay perked up, trying to look through the archway. “Really? Can we see them?”
Bertie looked up at her with a sweaty forehead and hopeful eyes. “That’s the thing.” He laughed meekly. “I was hoping you two could take charge of them? I’m afraid I might get stepped on if I go near them again.”
Following Bertie into the stables, he led us to the end stalls, to where there were two of possibly the tallest horses I had ever seen in my life.
One was patterned like a cow, black and white patches covering it’s body, the other pitch black, with only small, pure white socks colouring the ends its fluffy hooves, and a singular white star-like stripe running down its head.
Feeling like one of those girls in those magical horse novels, I slowly approached the black one, its features resembling those of a Shire horse – fitting, considering where we were. Kay’s looked like a Clydesdale, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she neared it, wonder glinting in her eyes as she offered her hand. I followed with my own, looking up at the beast that towered over me, the top of my head barely reaching its snout despite my tall height, as it’s black eyes peered back down to meet my own dark brown ones.
“Now you know why I can’t look after them myself.” Bertie half-laughed, flitting his eyes between the two animals, keeping his distance from the two animals as he watched, scuffing his heel against the floor like he wanted to bolt. “They’re girls, so hopefully won’t be territorial or anything that could cause issues with the ponies.”
I snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just given the ponies two empresses to worship – they’ll probably follow them around the pasture like loyal minions whenever they’re together.” I grinned as I faced the poor hobbit, who looked on the verge of trembling.
He took a shaky breath. “Ok, well, you can do what you like with them, just make sure they don’t go mental and destroy half the place. Please.”
“I doubt they’ll do that.” Piped up Kay, who had now managed to start stroking the snout of her horse. “If you managed to get them here without a fuss, then they should remain docile.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Hopefully.”
After that, Bertie quickly wrapped up the conversation, clearly desperate to get elsewhere so he didn’t have to face the two powerhouses bunking in the stables next to each other. He had mumbled about finding saddles and equipment large enough for them, before quickly scurrying off.
Turning back to face the horse in front of me, I reached up to gently place my hand on its sloping snout. “What’re you naming yours?” I asked, turning to her.
Looking up at the pink snout that was trying to nibble at her hand, she pondered for a moment. “Mmm, something like Calhourn maybe.”
“Nice.” I complimented. “I thought you would’ve gone for something like Moo Moo.”
She snorted. “That’s something you would go for.” She paused. “But it is a strong contender. Perhaps I’ll have it as a nickname.” She turned to me. “What’re you gonna choose?”
“Spleens.”
“No.”
“Ok, how about Felony?”
“Better, cooler, sounds like a name, but maybe choose something more… socially acceptable.”
I grunted in annoyance. “I want a name that disturbs people when they hear it – it’ll be a good conversation starter.”
“It’ll also be a good way to start the conversation of creating Middle Earth’s first mental asylum.” Kay deadpanned. “You can name something like your first pet cat Spleens, but not a horse that you could be riding into battle and potentially have written down in history.”
“But it’ll be the most remembered.” I pouted.
“And the most judged. Now, save the poor horse her dignity and give her a nice name.” she demanded.
“Doo Doo Daggins.”
“I swear to god.”
“Ok! Ok!” I giggled, petting the horse’s snout as she nudged at my hand. “Something fancy then.”
She nodded. “Yea, maybe something that relates to something you do? I don’t know – your witch stuff has a lot of fancy words in it.”
My eyes lit up. “Ohh! What about Hecate!? It links to my practice, and could be some type of dedication to her as a deity!”
Kay raised her brows. “That’s actually not bad. You gonna give her a nickname?”
I pondered for a moment. “Yea. Spleens.”
Kay just sighed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#the hobbit#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit x you#the hobbit x oc#kili x reader#fili#kili#fili x reader#hobbit x reader#fili x oc#kili x oc#thorins company x reader#thorins company#To the Shadows that Cry Witch#big soup#kili durin
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Spring Headcanons for the Elves of First Age Beleriand
Autumn headcanons
Winter headcanons
Obviously I couldn’t go through each group or culture so please feel free to send one and I’ll tell my ideas for them! I’m going to do humans next. Feel free to request for outside of Beleriand too!
For elves the season of stirring (Echuir in Sindarin) begins the equivalent of February First and ends March 27th. Yestarë or Iestor is the first day of the year, approximately March 28th on the Gregorian calendar. Echuir (Sindarin) or stirring corresponds to February first to 27th March on the Gregorian calendar and ethuil or spring began on March 29th and ended May 21st.
Stirring and Spring are seasons of awakening. The frost melts, the rain replaces the snow, and the grounds become green once more. The elves become reacquainted with the earth.
(Note: I do think some elves hibernate but that’s a different post)
Note: I used a more canon climate for Beleriand and other lands here but I'm always happy to make environmental or other world building posts for locations based on other places including specific real ones like I did for the Havens of Sirion! I did talk about non temperate climates a little here and I did more on the winter posts
The Northern Sindar (in Mithrim and elsewhere in Hithlum as well as parts of Nevrast) mark the beginning of spring by the return of leaves to trees and through watching the migration of certain communities of birds back to their homes. Bird houses are built by some, constructed of natural materials like bark and woven grasses. Children often collect feathers left behind. The Northern Sindar also gather may apples, wild strawberries and rhubarb which are favorite spring edible flora. These are often used for cool drinks, the strawberries used to sweeten.
Seasonal changes in Doriath are mostly mild though there are regions that experience more extreme differences throughout the year. While snow rarely falls due to the Girdle, the winter months are still colder. Spring in Doriath brings a forest floor carpeted in new flora; crocuses, snowdrops, bluebells, wild tulips, primrose and more early spring flowers. Lighter materials are often worn in celebration of milder weather. Traditional outfits for spring use fabric created from nettle fibers, a custom shared with the Sindar outside Doriath as well as certain Avarin groups.
In Himring, stirring and then spring represent a slow release of the extreme cold and snowy conditions of the local winters. Visibility becomes clearer as the lands themselves are uncovered. Scouting groups, though in operation all year round, are sent out more often and for longer periods as travel and communication become easier. Trade also increases and rations become more generous. The gardens in Himring (post here) are started as soon as the ground is soft enough to allow for it.
Outside of this climate, the beginning of spring might indicate a rainy season as it does in some regions East of the Ered Luin. Some of the Silvan who live there gather water and collect rain for when the overflowing rivers become too dangerous to use reliably. Shelters are fortified with a variety of materials before the beginning of rainy season and in some locations settlements move temporarily to higher ground
Amphibians returning to activity occurs throughout Beleriand in early spring. Elven children (and human children of course!) often enjoy staying up to here the first choruses of frogs, searching for eggs and watching tadpoles. Many adults too find joy in this new continuing of life. In Nargothrond for example, there is a tradition to follow short migrations of salamanders as they reach the ponds they will lay eggs in.
(I worry this one isn’t as good as my previous ones, I hope it’s ok! Please feel free to give requests)
#the silmarillion#beleriand#himring#Doriath#Hithlum#musing and meta#Maedhros#the children of húrin#for Doriath
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me: umm. why are so many abnos escaping
alyssa hanging out in the shelter from the 27th of march:
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given pmoon's SCP roots i would bet money that schadenfreude and shelter from the 27th of march took inspiration from antimemetics division
even if not, there's enough thematic overlap that a crossover would be cool
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after the sound of the third trumpet is absorbed and supplanted by the haunting calls of an azure star
what harm is there left in taking refuge within that cursed bunker, that Shelter from the 27th of March
and letting loose out your mouth all that hid in your chest
when such revelations are rewound at the end of a failed night, becoming the morning's faintly recalled dreams, a cycle of tragedy is born
where one remembers every detail in these recurring nightmares, the other remembers only the end - and walks away, confused, with only the gentlest of thoughts
who knows, maybe yesterday was the 27th of March
or maybe it's today
#art#artists on tumblr#oc artwork#my oc art#my ocs#lobotomy corp oc#oc#lobotomy corporation#lobcorp#lobocorp#vallahaiiocs
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My Lobotomy Corporation Abnormality Guide: Edition 2, Scorched Girl.
Welcome to the second in a series about the various abnormalities. This one is Scorched Girl, and weirdly enough her abnormality code comes in before One Sin.
"I am coming to you. You, who will be reduced to ash like me."
RISK LEVEL: TETH
WORK DAMAGE: RED (2-4)
BREACHING INFO/COUNTER: 0.5/2.0/1.0/2.0/(2)
ENKE BOXES (MAX BOXES- MAX NORMAL- MAX BAD): 12-7-4
PREFERS: INSIGHT>INSTINCT>REPRESSION>ATTACHMENT
COUNTER LOWERS: By 1 with a 50% chance on a normal work, by 1 with a 70% chance on a bad work
OTHER NOTES: When breaching, she will select one target to follow. If she stays in the same room as the employee for more than 5 seconds, she will detonate, dealing 300 RED damage.
THOUGHTS: Scorched Girl will be appearing early into your facility. Early on, you might have a little trouble with work, but as a TETH she's unable to maintain this early threat for long. Her breach will remain dangerous for nearly your entire career, though. If the employee marked is an agent, have them run away and let the other employees kill Scorched Girl. If it's a clerk, try to kill Scorched Girl, but if she reaches the room just have all the agents leave. Luckily, she falls into one of the most simple management categories I'll be describing: Bad Work Breachers. These breach on Bad, potentially on Normal works too. Simply have high Temperance, and she won't be a problem. An Insight trainer is also not an important niche; there will be plenty of options.
Her EGO Gear is Fourth Match Flame. As a TETH, it's not particularly eye popping, but it's certainly fun to see such "high" damage numbers so early on. The attack interval brings it back down to the mortal plane of TETH DPS. 0.6 RED resist is also certainly nice to have.
DAMAGE TYPE: RED (20-30)
RANGE: VERY LONG
ARMOR: 0.6/1.0/1.2/2.0
GIFT STATS: +4 SP (MOUTH 2)
Nothing important, unless your nugget design calls for a cigarette.
SPOILERS BELOW:
Is the WhiteNight suppression getting you down? Do you also have The Shelter from the 27th of March laying around? I see a solution to your problems. Shelter can breach Scorched Girl repeatedly, whose high RED damage makes her a prime candidate for this strat. Try to get Scorched Girl in the same department as WhiteNight, bring the 12 and someone to lock in the box, let WhiteNight breach, and have Scorched Girl blow up 100+ times on top of Him. Blue Star and other white damage abnormalities can interfere with this by healing Him. Who knew the Antichrist was so easy to kill? The Judas strat is probably better though, and it will be detailed when the WhiteNight guide comes out. Scorched Girl herself doesn't have any other particularly important properties.
FINAL REVIEW: She's been in Ruina, in Limbus, everywhere under the sun. Deeply iconic, with a neat breach. Her management isn't too interesting outside of that.
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EVENT 003 {MARCH 24- APRIL 1st} AURORA BAY STORM
Aurora Bay has always been toted as a paradise, a place that barely ever sees cloudy skies, much less a rainstorm. But over the past few days, news stations have been reporting of a storm that was estimated to pass over the town. The residents, however, are blindsided with just how bad it will be.
Due to the town's proximity to the ocean, what was just going to be a rainstorm became much, much worse. Crashing waves will send water and debris into the closest residencies of the ocean but stores and buildings that are more inland will still feel the affects. And due to the powerful, gusting winds, power lines will be knocked out, cutting off cell service and plunging a lot of the town into darkness.
Residents will be advised to shelter in place, whether that be with loved ones or even amongst strangers in a safe space. Regardless of where you are, we urge everyone to stay off the streets and stay safe until this passes.
OOC INFO UNDER THE CUT
OOC INFO:
Here's our next event! We absolutely want people to plot with this one, so much so that we want this to be collaborative.
We will have five safe zones, places away from the ocean that will open their doors for people looking for cover, that if you want your character to be a part of, send us their names and we will randomize them, essentially placing random characters together to encourage plotting and writing with those you may otherwise not have anything in common with! We will accept character names to randomize until Wednesday. On Thursday we will post the list of who's where so you all can have time to plot. Again, this is completely voluntary!
Other than those spots, characters can be trapped at work or at home and of course we encourage plotting for that as well for threads.
Aurora Bay Drive, being right on the beach, and establishments on the waterfront will get the worst of it, but damage will be done to businesses and homes all around town. Ocean Crest Apartments, being the furthest from the ocean, will ultimately be the safest place to be (albeit without power). However, wherever the residents find themselves is where they'll be the rest of the night.
For the safe zones, characters can of course be there already when the storm hits! However, if you have a character that you're unsure of where to put them/just want to drum up a little plotting and drama, again just message us their names and we'll plop them into one of our five locations!
Extras:
During the course of this week leading up to the storm, there will be gustier winds and cloudier skies, all signs of a storm approaching.
In game, the storm is Friday night. The dash will be open for event posts starting Friday at 11am CST.
Power will be lost in the town in game from Friday night until the early hours of Sunday morning. This included cell service. The storm itself will clear in game by Saturday morning and by then people can of course go outside
Three open starters can be posted off the bat, after that please reply to those before making your own! all threads should be tagged aurorabay.storm and should be labeled with location.
Morning After posts on the dash can begin on Monday the 27th (but of course storm posts can continue throughout the week!)
If in a safe zone, please make sure to use the tags below for your threads
ALL STRUCTURAL DAMAGE AND INJURIES M U S T BE APPROVED BY THE ADMINS. We don't want thirty characters in the hospital with broken bones and every store in town shattered, so we will accept damage/injury plots at our discretion. (Scrapes and light injuries, and mild dents and dings to places are of course okay, but anything major needs to be approved first. Any questions or if unsure, please just ask!)
The Safe Zones:
All-Nighter Diner (aurorabay.diner)
Aurora Bay College (aurorabay.college)
Golden Hour Lounge (aurorabay.lounge)
Tidal Wave Music Shop (aurorabay.music)
Aurora Bay Vet Clinic (aurorabay.vet)
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(michael vlamis) [THE RUNAWAY]. Please welcome [WOLF LYKAIOS (HE/THEY)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [THIRTY TWO]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [THE COMMUNE]. You may see them around working as a [GROOMER AT HUNTSVILLE VETERINARY & GROOMING]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.
TW: abuse, abandonment, homophobia, homelessness
full name: wolf odysseus lykaios
birthdate: march 27th, 1990
age: 33
height: 5’11”
sexuality: grumpy bisexual
bio:
life for wolf lykaios has never been particularly easy or good
born and raised in chicago, illinois, wolf’s parents weren’t compatible from the start
his mother was sweet and soft spoken, always wanting the best for her only child and working hard to provide for him the best she could
his father was lazy and a drunk, ruling the house with an iron fist so he wouldn’t have to do anything himself
wolf’s mother stuck around for as long as she could, wanting to protect her child but growing tired of how she was being treated
wolf was around five years old when she finally had enough and packed her things, leaving her husband and child behind to start a better life elsewhere
as much as she wanted to take wolf with her, she just couldn’t swing it, hoping to come back for him sooner rather than later
his father’s rage only grew from there, and while he never physically hit his son until he got a little older, the emotional abuse took a toll on wolf
he became a very quiet kid, keeping to himself more often than not so he couldn’t get close to anyone
he dressed to cover bruises and scratches, a defense mechanism to avoid too many questions
as much as he hated his father, the last thing wolf wanted was to be stuck in the foster care system and become another number
and so he dealt with the situation at home the best that he could, counting the days until his mother came home
the years kept passing him by without her return, and by the time wolf reached his teens, he’d given up on seeing her again all together
and then he met arthur drake, and suddenly things didn’t seem so bad
arty gave wolf an excuse to get out of the house, and for once he felt like he was loved genuinely
naturally wolf’s father didn’t approve of his relationship, but it didn’t bother wolf any because arty was worth putting up with any barricade that came their way
but things with arty were already a little complicated’ neither of them felt comfortable making their relationship public, and so they kept hiding
wolf knew that he loved arty more than anyone else, and while he wanted to be out and open with him, he just couldn’t, and so he bottled his own feelings up
life didn’t seem so bad until arty told wolf that he was leaving, and then suddenly it felt like wolf’s whole world came crashing down
arty was the only one they had left, and after his departure, wolf decided that being in chicago was no longer an option
and so they packed all of their belongings into one bag and left in the middle of the night, not bothering to leave their dad a note
wolf had no idea where they were going, failing to craft a plan before their departure, but they didn’t care much as long as they were no longer under their dad’s roof
for a few years they made do with couch surfing and setting up a tent in the woods, never thinking too hard about finding a more permanent place
their hardened attitude made it difficult for wolf to connect with other people, but they were capable of connecting with animals
after wandering into the animal shelter on a whim and bonding with the animals there a bit too easily, wolf felt like they’d finally found their purpose
wiggling his way into an employment opportunity, wolf found it as means to get back up on their feet
they saved for months, their attitude shifting into something a bit kinder and more compassionate, though they reserved it for the animals
but after a year, wolf decided it was time to pack up and move on again, not wanting to put down roots just yet
he felt the need to keep running, feeling as if something else was out there for him
without any sort of warning or memory how it happened, wolf ended up in huntsville shortly after the paradox hit
but the thing was, they didn’t mind that they got stuck the moment they came to town, and despite hearing stories from the townspeople, they chose to form their own opinions
being in huntsville made wolf feel safe, like if his dad ever came looking for him, he couldn’t be found
he was quick to settle into the commune and get a job as a groomer
however, his grumpy disposition remained, still unwilling when it came to letting people in
wolf has been in town for a few years now, and he’s managed to make a home for himself
most people try to steer clear for fear of facing his bad attitude, but there have been a few who have managed to befriend him, at least a little bit
truth be told, he’s soft at his core and very loyal to the people he loves, he’s just not willing to share that side of him with most people
slowly but surely, though, he’s learning how to open up, especially now that arty is back in his life
overall, wolf just has a big attitude but it’s just so he can mask his soft feelings
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Everything I Posted On AO3 In 2022
Wishes On Cake - Niko/Joonas. Posted: January 17th. Written for Niko’s 27th birthday.
Niko celebrates his birthday by meeting up with his bandmates at a bar. Joonas gets self conscious, when he realizes he's the only one who got Niko an actual gift. By the time he actually presents the gift to Niko, he's drunk. He knows he shouldn't say how he feels. Not when he's barely coherent like this. But, he just can't hold his feelings back anymore.
Be My Bloody Valentine Tonight - Joel/Joonas. Posted: February 14th. Written for Valentine’s Day.
Joonas comes knocking on Joel's door, the morning of February 14th, to show him the Valentine card he just found. Joel is nursing a hangover, and doesn't particularly want to hear about it...until Joonas explains that he thinks the card may have come from a stalker fan.
Heaven Or Hell - Joel/Niko. Posted: March 27th. Part 1 of the Angels & Demons AU.
Joel is an angel of the Lord, and there's a human boy that he is supposed to protect. Unfortunately, the demon Niko intends to seduce this same boy into sin. How far will Joel go to protect him? Or - is he only telling himself that's why he's doing this?
I Keep On Falling - Joel/Joonas. Posted: April 2nd. Part 2 of the Angels & Demons AU.
After his dalliance with Niko, Joel has become a fallen angel. He hates himself for losing his wings - but, he realizes that there's one positive thing about this whole situation. There's no longer any reason for him to avoid his ex, Joonas.
Joonas had no idea that an angel lost his wings last night - until Satan orders him to bring the new Fallen One to Hell.
I’m No Saint - Joel/Aleksi/Niko. Posted: April 3rd. Part 3 of the Angels & Demons AU.
It's been three years, since Joel and Joonas decided to run from the Devil. It was foolish, to think that they could stay this way forever. Satan catches up to them, and orders Joel to seduce his first mortal soul. Just to twist the knife, the mortal that he's been ordered to corrupt is Alex - the very person that Joel lost his wings in the first place to save.
An old 'friend' appears at Helsinki Ice Hall, all too willing to help Joel carry out his sinful mission.
Run For The Hills - Tommi/Olli. Posted: June 23rd. Written for Tommi’s 26th birthday.
Olli just wants to take his boyfriend on a cute picnic date for his birthday. But, the local wildlife interrupts.
Three Summers In Hanko - Joel/Joonas. Posted: August 2nd. Written for BC Summerfest.
Joonas met Joel in the summer of 2009, three months before he turned fifteen. Joel's family bought a summer home in the Hanko Peninsula, right next to the vacation property Joonas' family was renting. After a chance meeting, they became fast friends. It's hard to part ways when summer vacation ends.
Fast forward to 2010. Joel is so excited to see his friend again, when he returns to Hanko, the following summer. But, an unexpected revelation, threatens to destroy their friendship forever. Can they get back, what they once had? Or will their bond melt away like ice cream on a hot summer's day?
Flufftober With Blind Channel 2 - Multiship. Posted: October 1st - 24th. Drabble collection.
…I only finished the first 23 days of this challenge. Oops. ^^;
My Boys - Niko/Reader. Posted: December 14th. Just 209 words of Boyfriend!Niko + cat lol
You're cuddling with Niko on a cold winter's night. Rommi wants to join.
Castle In The Woods - Niko/Joonas. Posted: December 25th. Vampire AU. Written for BC Blood Mass.
Joonas flees his remote mountain village, hoping to escape an unwanted arranged marriage and start a new life. But, when a snowstorm hits, he finds himself hopelessly lost. He and his loyal servant take shelter in an abandoned castle.
But, alas, the castle wasn't as "abandoned" as Joonas thought. And now the master of the castle won't let him leave....
#blind channel rpf#my fic#niko vilhelm x joonas porko#joel hokka x joonas porko#joel hokka x niko vilhelm#tommi lalli x olli matela#niko vilhelm x reader#2022 writing wrapped#sorry for the long post
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Using Shelter From The 27th Of March against the Red Mist. Go back to your sea of hate bitch.
#lobotomy corp#lobotomy Corporation#the red mist#lobotomy corporation spoilers#core suppression#lmao#it’s so fucking funny how I am just undermining everything about the red mist
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February 15th,19∆∆:
Hello, my name is Ukelele. I am 17. My current therapist (∆∆∆∆, in case you were wondering) told me to write down "how I feel". However, I choose not to do that. Instead I will just write about my girlfriend. Where do I start? She is wonderful. Her name is ∆∆∆∆∆. She has a beautiful smile, she loves cats, she is the smartest and brightest woman I've ever met. And the best part? She actually understands me. Also she prefers tea over coffee ◕ᴗ◕. She plans on adopting 4 cats from a shelter when she's married, and she loves hanakotoba flowers. I am planning a date for tomorrow, so I'm gonna stop writing.
- Ukelele♡
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February 19th, 19∆∆: I just got a letter from ∆∆∆∆∆. It says 'meet me at ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ on February 25th at exactly 5:00 pm' I'm kind of worried. Is there something going on? I'm worried. What if I'm not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Is she gonna leave me? Does she secretly hate me? I don't know. I'm gonna stop writing before I overthink the letter
- Ukelele
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February 25th, 19∆∆: so instead of bad news I got good news. She's pregnant. I'm gonna be a dad ◕ᴗ◕. I'm already thinking of baby names. I'm gonna write some down in here for reference: sunny, Aurora, Poppy, Jack, Adam, Alban, Zane, Julian, Mary, Rosabelle, and will (or Willow, depending on the gender.) I have plenty more. If we get a boy I want to name him Julian, but in the end it's her choice and I'm content with anything. I'm gonna sign off now
- Ukelele♡
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November 23rd, 19∆∆: been a while since I wrote in this. She successfully gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, but she doesn't like him. He was born with a third eye "deformity" like mine, and Victoria thinks he's a devil incarnate. I really don't know what to do. Should I leave her and take the baby with me? Should I put him in an orphanage? I don't want to leave him there. I don't want him to be bullied for his third eye. I need some time to think.
- Ukelele
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December 5th, 19∆∆: I've decided to leave her, and I'm taking Julian with me. I am NOT leaving him in the foster care system UNLESS I am deemed unfit. And there is no way I am leaving him with a lady who thinks he's the devil. I don't know where to go next, but I'm sure some higher deity will guide me. I Will fight for Julian. I'm gonna take him home.
- Ukelele
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March 13rd, 19∆∆: It's been a while. I need to stop forgetting to write in this.
In case you were wondering, journal peeping Tom, Julian is alright, happy and healthy. He's gonna turn 3 this year. I am struggling to take care of him, I may not be able to afford him financially, but I'm gonna try. At least if I can't afford to take care of him I have a backup plan, I have a close friend who said that she would be able to take care of Julian if I can't afford to take care of him anymore. Oh. A while back he had surgery to remove his third eye since i was kinda worried that he might've gotten bullied if I didn't. It was successful and I don't have to worry about that as much anymore . I'm gonna sign off now
- ukelele♡
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April 27th, 19∆∆: Julian was taken away and put in foster care. I am pissed at myself for failing as a father. I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed I failed. I'm so sorry Julian. I'm so, so sorry. I hope you find a good family.
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November 23rd, 20∆∆: hey. It's me. Again. I work for the SCP foundation now, so yay (you probably can't tell but that's pure sarcasm.) Today there is this new researcher named Julian iceberg. Kinda looks similar to my son, you know, if you were to age him up to 27 years. I wonder how my boy is doing out there. I hope he has the best life out there, unaware of this hellhole. I don't think I have any reason to update this journal anymore. Heck, I don't even know why I still have it. But Julian Wojciechowski, if you are reading this, I love you. I wish I could've provided a better life. I hope you are okay. Signing out now.
- Ukelele
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(Ps: if you are reading this: you have a younger half sister who is a teenage Gaea.)
(PPS: [REDACTED])
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the angsty Kenny fic is being postponed until I improve
- walking fish anon
God, don't make me have feelings for this au....poor Ukulele
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If you need me I'll be in the shelter from the 27th of march
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