#macille????

[fleshspit]

i promise ill draw more tpof but have my girl of all time who gets hunted by mason both in her head and in real life 

#sorry i love my ocs #you guys can have her #lucille hayes #ocspit #the price of flesh #tpof oc #original character #spit art #what would her and masons ship name even be #macille???? #luson????? #who fucking knows

[demilypyro]

THE YURI IS REALLLL

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #farcille #macille donato #falin touden

[sunnyirry]

falin got a crushy wushyyyy

#dungeon meshi #if someone look into my brain you'd just see macille and falin jpg everywhere #dunmeshi #farcille #artists on tumblr #fanart #my art

[judas-isariot]

...

#this is the horniest way you can look at someone #I AM NOT SORRY #last time I see a woman stare at me like that #oh boy ! #She is waiting for her to make her move #raw her #dungeon meshin #macille #falin #farcille

[mightygadia]

Morcilla my beloved

#my fanart #macille donato #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #sketchbook

[macile]

J’aime à penser......

#dans les bois #écureuil #macile h

[find-the-path]

Oc-tober Day 19 - Study - Saedhruin

Saedhruin had originally picked up the art in Tirion.

It was a bit of a novelty then, and not much considered by most. To call up a flame was the simplest of stunts, the critics scorned, and a gust of wind merely a party trick.

Nontheless Saedhruin had started, for he had been greatly intrigued by the prince’s new alphabet, and this application for it seemed interesting. Eithruin did not, though she had not yet chosen a craft. She searched still, and said merely that none of them interested her.

He could light a fire, call a wind, perhaps focus a beam of light after long practice, but his father declared that it certainly did not qualify as a proper craft, and soon he was once more searching. He kept at it as a hobby, though, every once in a while.

Its first real use came later, in the dark and cold of Araman after the chaos and fear. They huddled in groups, in hordes, on the freezing shore, still gripped by the grim terror of Mandos’s Doom. Someone had called for matches and fuel, but there was little to be found, and a Noldo in Saedhruin’s group instead called fire to his hands with a word. They all stared in shocked silence.

The Trees of Aman had been the Eldar’s joy, their light, and the source of a great deal of their art. Even the Silmarils now held in the Enemy’s hands came from the Trees, and they said the Valar themselves came to them to rest at times. No Elf could call light into gems now, for their was no light to be had, and none were familiar enough with the cold and distant stars.

It was the work of a mere moment, though, for Saedhruin to speak nárë and call flame to his fingers.

--

Aboard the ships, the king had every Elf who could summon even a breeze taking shifts on the top deck, directing the sail eastward even through the howling gales that plagued them. Lashed by wind and rain, weary hands raised to the black sky, Saedhruin stood with three other Elves muttering through numb lips.

“Súrë.... Súrë....”

With no Trees by which to count the hours, there was no way to know how soon the next shift would arrive. He didn’t mind, for he did not have to think, standing there.

--

After that first glorious day, all the exiled Eldar at last walked once more in the light, and once again the calling of fire was little needed. Over time, they became well-acquainted with the Sun and Moon--- and yes, the stars as well--- and could call down their light at need, to light a torch, or illuminate a gem, or to blind their foes. Saedhruin mastered this method quickly enough, and true-names he kept as a hobby.

Swordplay, on the other hand, was a trial. The blade was long and heavy, the hilt strange in his grip, and his stance had ‘more holes than a rain-cloud’ to quote one of the masters. They all learned quickly enough, though.

--

Thingol had instituted a ban on Quenya, and none of the rune-keepers among the Noldor could practice the art openly. Saedhruin tried, many times, to call the names in Sindarin instead, but only one out of three times did it work, and rarely well.

One of the Falathrim visiting Mithrim, a silver-haired Elf named Sarchon, had suggested the idea when he had learned of the craft. He had grinned when a tiny blue flame flickered up in Saedhruin’s palm and the startled Noldo nearly dropped it. Saedhruin had not expected ‘naur’ to work.

Sarchon had wanted to learn, if possible, and Saedhruin hadn’t had any objections, and so awkwardly ran the Elf through the command and intent lists he still recalled from his first venture into the art, even as he struggled to make each command work himself. To his surprise, Sarchon picked the Sindarin versions up easily, much like Saedhruin had once learned the Quenya ones.

“I think,” Sarchon had said, a small glowing ball cradled in his palm, “It must be related to the language you grew up in, and is the most natural to you.”

Saedhruin concidered this point, and his own light ball in his hand.

--

The art came in small handy at times, in scrapes and for conveniance, but little store was put by it for millenia more, as the war raged on and Beleriand, their land of promise, was ravaged to dust and blood.

At the end of it all, in a new land and a new prince, Saedhruin was once more shocked.

Lord Celebrimbor, upon learning of Saedhruin’s proficiency with the art, had practically dragged him into his workshop with excited eyes lit up. Saedhruin was not extremely familiar with his lord, and could only follow obediantly, the sandwich he had been in the middle of eating still clutched in hand.

Without a word, Celebrimbor picked up a sword set on a side table, holding it up in the firelight. It was a straight blade, and minimally adorned. Only then did Celebrimbor speak, a single phrase: 

“Macil ruinë!”

In an instant, Celebrimbor’s sword came alight in a fiery blaze, and Saedhruin swore and stumbled back, dropping his sandwich in the process. Celebrimbor grinned, the light reflected back in his eyes.

--

In Aman, there had been command words, and the rune-keeper could hold the fruit of their efforts in the palm of their hand, or watch it blow through the trees. As far as Saedhruin was aware, Celebrimbor was the first to ask if that was really the limit, and begun far more complicated commands.

The fiery sword had been merely the beginning, as effective as it was in battle. Soon, he was calling for stone to crack and ice to shatter. Every skill and every command came to him as easily as breathing, even as those rune-keepers that flocked to him to learn struggled miles behind. An ever-present fire burned now in his eyes, ready to flare up at the slightest of provocations--- eyes such as Saedhruin recalled another prince of his line bearing.

Saedhruin learned some of the new commands, but the sheer scale of some of them disturbed him more than anything else. He took a border post, and did not return often to the city.

--

He was, as it happened, newly returned to the capital when Celebrimbor raised the alarm, and a new war was declared before the citizens of Eregion were even halfway through lunch. Again he left his sandwich abandoned on the board, as all were called to the city center.

None would ever accuse the Noldor of Eregion of giving up their land freely: in the centuries to come, songs would be sung and tales recounted of the war that raged on for two bloody years in Eriador. Saedhruin remained in the thick of it, and his and others’ runes dealt devestating damage to the legions of foes that marched upon them.

When at last the armies of Mordor breached the high wall of the city itself, Saedhruin stood among the steady ranks of defenders even as ten and twenty times their number swarmed through the ruined gates. Celebrimbor stood with them, fire in his hand and in his eyes. He fought like his grandsire of old, survivors would whisper, and a storm raged atop the city center that wasn’t natural. Rain lashed his enemies, lightning danced and struck around him--- that was new!--- blinding light reflected off every blade and shield nearby--- and Saedhruin watched as Sauron deflected every blow with laughing glee. 

Ring-craft was not the only art Antheron had learned from the Elves.

--

The bedraggled, exhausted group of survivors fled the city as dawn lightened the sky, and so confident was Sauron that he did not even give chase. He had his prize, captured in the midnight hours.

Back to Lindon they went, bearing their bitter tale.

--

tyelma

There is little use for runes here, in his small home by the river, or at least no desperately needed uses. With a soft call of nárë he lights his fire each light, and with cálë he finds his misplaced book. Ered Luin is at peace, and he has not lit a sword with fire or called down lightning for nearly fifteen years.

#lotro #saedhruin #súrë - wind #cálë - light #nárë - fire #macil ruinë - sword + blazing fire #somebody took the *celebrimbor is the inspiration for the class* and ran with it #so there are some LARGE gaps in this #cough lehtion cough #but certain things i do not have the energy to work out right now #full disclosure one of the big reasons long-form writing doesn't work for me is because i am physically incapable of keeping to one tense #tyelma - ending #is this edited? no #salt and light

[yandere-daydreams]

I'm so sorry but you said siren reader and my first thought was "oh, fish roe! Nice" I want to think he wouldn't but if the team is running low on food don't let anyone ask where he got it bc it's 50/50 he says the truth and Macille is already suffering enough as it's

counter opinion: monster!reader being totally cool with using their technically edible by-products as food whenever the party's in a tight spot whereas laios is, at best, on the fence about letting other people get in on HIS very specific hyper-fixation. harpy!reader gives senshi one of their unfertilized eggs bc they were craving a very large omelette, and laios is just standing ten feet away, pouting like 'hey :( that's my future kid you're eating :((('.

#personal #anon ask

[greywolfheirs]

Kabumisu Drabble/Shortfic

Kabru frowned down at the text in front of him. He glanced between it and the circle he’d made in the floor to check he’d inscribed all the symbols correctly. Satisfied, he nodded to himself. Now to say the words.

Kabru and Marcille had gotten along decently well during their time together with Laios’s new appointment of king. In fact, “decently” might be an understatement. They were cautious at first, but she had quickly become the first person he ran to when visitors came to Laios with ridiculous requests and Laios jumped to even more ridiculous solutions without consulting his advisor. Kabru needed to complain and she was a very sympathetic ear.

It was only Marcille who could convince Kabru to take up magic in his free time. He’d learned a few convenient spells from her and she eventually gave him the book he now held in his hand. He was trying to cast the spell he’d seen during their days in the dungeon, one that heated the floor so that Senshi could cook food.

As Kabru mouthed the words, practicing the pronunciation, his roommate and the reason for this particular spell walked in. Mithrun, after citing a new desire to return to the island, was also a constant companion in Kabru’s life. He’d been developing some desires again, and chasing any whims that came with them–hence his stay on the island. Still, it wasn’t as if the lost desires were coming back anytime soon, so Kabru was dedicated to ensuring his friend was properly taken care of.

Hence the spell for convenience cooking. It was a tempting alternative to late-night treks to the kitchen when lack of desire for food combined with Kabru's busy schedule meant they both hadn't eaten all day.

Mithrun smiled and nodded as he made his way to his room, and Kabru waved in response. Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter to recite the spell.

“Destruere,” Kabru began, “igne pavi–wha-mph!”

Kabru, missing the thud of Mithrun’s footsteps back into the living quarters, was very suddenly interrupted by his roommate’s whole body thrown into his arms and–immediately after–his lips covering Kabru’s. In that moment, Kabru will admit that all logic, training, and thought left his mind. Mithrun’s lips were surprisingly soft, his frame light enough that even fully covering Kabru felt like a comfortable weight in his lap, and Kabru forgot any reason to not close his eyes and kiss back.

Except Mithrun pulled back before he could.

“That spell would have caused an explosion large enough to kill you,” he said, pulling himself from Kabru’s arms with a speed that almost hurt. Almost.

Because Kabru realized it hadn’t been Mithrun’s sudden feelings for his roommate bubbling over into spontaneous action. Just as Kabru had done many times, Mithrun had simply known that the only way to quickly stop a magic user from casting a spell was to make their mouth stop moving entirely. It hadn’t been personal when Mithrun moved away because none of it had been personal.

Kabru felt his face go hot and tried to hide it by looking back down at the spellbook. The top of the page read: “Small fire spell.” Curse Marcille and her love of explosive magic.

“Oh!” Kabru said, still looking down at the book and scratching the back of his neck. “I must have picked the wrong spell.”

“What were you trying to cast?” Mithrun asked, suddenly dropping next to Kabru’s side and peeking over his shoulder at the book.

“Um, Macille often used a spell that would heat the floor so that Senshi could cook with it,” Kabru explained, face now red from embarrassment at the explanation. “I thought it was this one.”

Mithrun hummed and leaned in to read the words on the page. “It is a similar spell, but the words you want are here.” He pointed to a spot further down the page. Marcille had marked it with abbreviated words in common that Kabru hadn’t recognized as anything but gibberish. “It modifies it so that you get the heat and none of the explosion.”

“That…makes sense,” Kabru said with a chuckle. “Thanks, Mithrun.”

“Of course,” the elf said, and Kabru looked up in time to see one of his small, rare smiles. It did nothing for the redness on Kabru’s face. “Would you like help casting this time?”

“Sure,” Kabru said, returning the smile. He placed his hands back on the floor. This time, Mithrun said the words, and Kabru repeated them. The symbols on the floor glowed and when Kabru lifted his hands, he felt warmth radiating from the circle. No explosions seemed imminent.

“It worked!” Kabru exclaimed, clapping Mithrun on the shoulder.

Mithrun smiled again and leaned towards the circle. “I didn’t realize how cold I was until now.”

Kabru whipped his head around. “I told you to wear warm clothing today.”

“I did, but it got too warm in the castle and forgot to put my coat back on.”

Kabru used his hand still on the elf's shoulder to shake him a little. “How many times do I have to tell you to put on proper clothing for the weather!”

“I’m sorry,” Mithrun said, looking away. “I know how frustrating it is taking care of me.”

“What? No, I–” Kabru sighed. “I'm not mad, I just worry. I know you’re a big bad Canary–Former Canary” Kabru corrected when Mithrun opened his mouth to interrupt, “but I still don't want you to get hurt.”

Mithrun nodded. Kabru saw him thinking about what to say next, so he waited it out. He nearly choked when Mithrun suddenly announced, “I have a desire to kiss you.”

“I–what?”

“It felt…nice, and I want to do it again,” Mithrun explained, the clinical nature of his tone sending Kabru reeling.

Because this was Mithrun. Intimidating in battle, utterly helpless at everyday life, and utterly endearing because of it. Kabru would be lying if he said he didn’t think about kissing Mithrun often. But he’d long resigned himself to shoving those thoughts to the back of his head. While he adored the elf in a way he hadn’t felt for many people, he knew the chances of Mithrun returning that affection were less than nil.

“I thought you’d lost the desire for kissing a long time ago,” Kabru said. The elf had a wife before his desires were taken away, and therefore any new romantic desires were unable to return. Right? Surely–surely–Mithrun had kissed his wife. So how could he have this new desire for kissing?

Mithrun shook his head. “I don’t have a desire for kissing, I have a desire to kiss you.”

And fuck if that wasn’t the worst thing for Kabru to hear in that moment. It made him think dangerous thoughts–thoughts that inspired hope that he’d extinguished months ago. And it made him do stupid things.

Stupid things like reaching up to tuck Mithrun's hair behind his ear and saying, “Then I suppose you should kiss me.”

Mithrun’s expression was unreadable–a first in a while for Kabru–but he leaned in until their lips barely brushed against each other. Kabru bridged the rest of the gap, pressing forward in a chaste but firm kiss. He didn’t want to push too far, but he wanted to make sure it was enjoyable. For Mithrun, he told himself, because Mithrun’s desires should be enjoyed.

That thought got shoved to the side immediately when Mithrun made a small noise of delight at the contact. He kissed back, deepening it and putting his hands on Kabru’s chest to steady himself. Kabru felt his logic fly out the window for the second time that evening. He slid his hand further back to cradle Mithrun's head, running his fingers through the silken strands of hair he’d felt many times but never like this. He used his new grip as an anchor as he pressed forward impossibly more, sliding his tongue along the elf’s bottom lip. The delighted noise came again and Kabru had never cursed a need to breathe more. He reluctantly pulled away–enough to gauge Mithrun’s reaction.

“Was that alright?” he whispered, surprised by how utterly wrecked his voice sounded.

Mithrun opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of voices outside their front door. Both men stood as, without knocking, Laios burst in, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

“Kabru! Marcille told me she was teaching you magic, so we can be magic practice buddies!”

Laios’s excitement was occasionally adorable, but never in his entire life–not even in their first meeting–had Kabru ever wanted to kill him more.

#trying to navigate their characterization so quality not guaranteed lol #kabumisu #dungeon meshi #kabru dungeon meshi #mithrun

[danitheforeverdm]

Marcille does not like to eat monsters, but if falin gets saved she'll still technically be one, so Macille is going to... Nay i shant say it

#monster pussy so good it makes a monster food hater convert #sorry pretending to be a prude took alot out of me #hot monster sesbian lex #dungen meshi #marcille #Falin

[mood2you]

(ID: 3 panels from Dungeon Meshi of Marcille with Fallin in the dungeon Fallin found at their magic school. They are on a round dirt island in a body of dungeon water I think. Marcille is thinking "If we turned this..." The next panel is Macille's vision: the island dark with water and soil, shaped into rows for farming. "Into this..." She covers her mouth. "And if we grew mandrakes here... We could safely harness the magic energy of this place..." She thinks, end ID.)

(ID: Same panels but I've editted some lettuce and seasame bun onto the island because it looks dark from grilling with rows that are grill marks, end ID.)

#dungeon meshi

[cultfed]

blood is so intrinsically human. the acrid stench of mortality as it sears at his senses. mouths that behest in wretched agony, their visages blanched with terror, pupils withering to pinpricks. the christened son, epithets of praise wilting into condemnation, for there are two hells, enduring torture by his hand and the reunion they shall hold, burning pyres of the defective, the blithely ignorant. his mother’s mouth, kind and docile rendered in a muted cry. his father’s mouth, proud, eulogies to the man he expected his son to become, gapes in a sanguinary revelation. he does not heed to their supplications, scarcely do lashes flutter in crescents as a hollow of stygian splinters into corporeality, its emaciated extremities bleed into the domicile once christened home. a horror surges from its gaping maw, spicules undulating as its spine slithers forth, tongue laving across tapered rows of teeth. it devours repulsively, cleaving her lithe body from the waist down, a torrent of red drenching her moribund spouse. its lurid yellow eyes flit in sunken, white sockets, seizing abruptly as they detect quarry. its mouth opens, then closes around his arm, wrenching it from the socket. lamentable screams, stifled by tenacity dwindle then eerie - tranquil silence. macilent fingers sink into tufts of white, its flank rises and falls as if breathing, the grotesque cacophony of its teeth tearing into flesh bore into him and for a moment he thinks himself sick, stomach churning with putrid bile. this was but a herald of his revelations, the advent of his renunciation. 

#i said i would write it. #so i did <3 #tag / #gore /

[444names]

Names generated from Star Wars sentient species and Tolkienesque forenames

Aadaga Ablotheros Abysameh Adini Agallegoe Ahagor Alacaplode Aladocal Alanyao Alarahtan Almandil Aloffin Alpeciriel Ambrag Amingbomir Amlian Amraingil Andaca Andan Andor Andren Antil Aples Araglorlan Aragonbran Arakaraan Arandisirl Arbargan Ardir Argelen Arhorsar Arian Arinlant Arladorpli Arnelmor Arniel Arodbro Aroos Arron Arthian Artius Assandan Assion Atatauran Atlanna Azdampirgi Azmeek Azmeldaras Azumos...

Badûn Balast Baraghulog Barago Baranc Bararti Bardar Bartiën Bassë Bathmoot Batla Battâri Beesh Bered Bergothos Berimbatis Beshnákhos Bestran Bionduil Blundir Boandoe Bolorl Bolthoan Bomaunds Bomed Bomethor Bomizznon Bonamet Borost Bpfak Bpfas Bradaen Brala Brasst Breth Brethran Bronai Brynna Bufolway Bumbarair Bysamlin Bysan Bëoroduib Calbucabor Caploguesi Carangi Carnian Cashog Catatii Celeftar Celemin Celeyma Celfasti Celing Cemengir Cemerum Ceodrasta Ceorodor Chlumen Ciland Cilion Cladur Condi Condrang Conds Conkortzan Crashaldor Cruca Crunglian Curgimando Curingu Cyraphian Círdir Darinct Dealmo Delarwin Delema Delinna Dendiran Derog Diandil Doldabi Dowfan Driantish Dueadûnan Dwyssi Dyploros Déawanurog Déodhel Déodonk Eevegundor Elebu Elego Elemman Ellan Ellous Elsen Embur Encian Endorion Equan Everian Evwicolion Exothich Extianthor Eäredup Eärniand Eärwinahar Fakhôr Farië Faurn Fehtolin Fendil Fiangusian Filka Finikan Finto Fishalfwin Flaraidil Flugla Flukal Fnetakk Folcwalan Fopikanton Frellph Fréagon Garan Gendo Gerilka Germakan Ggiteer Ghaláf Gheldë Gilaby Gilianáin Gillian Glath Glinalick Glinnaph Glotur Glóren Gonian Gothak Grianwë Gungloni Gusiane Hadûn Haggrue Hakrahta Hakul Haldanazan Halfax Haramdír Hathoot Hendek Herroikal Herunínil Hidena Hilwiendas Hithôn Hivoroddil Hosix Hynna Húrian Ildachirin Imair Imakala Imbatan Ineba Ineth Inroovicor Irungue Ivorryon Jassar Jastan Jeonwë Kajiano Kalasfastë Kalassh Kalkan Kandrallid Keredher Keïtok Kholcal Khorlimmor Khorn Khrakil Kiant Kinik Kinyë Koliy Kondir Korol Korthrawin Krian Kílid Labav Lasaróf Lefaurn Leffen Legon Lenniend Lephal Lewenduu Logim Lornhír Lothir Lugar Lukallar Lunda Lusty Mabys Macil Madamdís Maerúmir Maineld Malcwair Maldë Mandill Mands Marattrane Martz Marue Mavain Mavan Mecthate Meekk Meftai Melros Meredan Midorogy Mirin Miryarekk Molwin Moniancana Muquat Naldan Nalori Nariantil Naton Nedhelvam Neevel Nelen Neliy Niethen Nimeld Nobatar Noian Nortin Náman Nínien Ohephas Opikan Oppfalan Orgod Orinyahi Ormtoo Orthathor Overec Oviandin Pakaran Palvanak Passtar Pecil Peilmoo Phandir Pharan Phien Pkothaldë Pkothor Ploduurwer Polem Pourion Prina Priën Prost Purion Qonix Qubspel Ralocastan Rasindil Ravan Reebroian Rettor Riani Saegon Saettârina Saman Sandiankor Santon Sanyah Saran Sarrever Saugorma Saurungorl Seaniena Seess Sendivran Shagon Shelegori Shwizian Sionkoo Skeradilid Skulmë Slebrek Sleebarla Sogimë Squben Squilmo Squing Squolegol Squolë Squor Swamrask Symalup Symant Symauhmo Taranes Tarar Taresty Taulan Tefróg Terucarl Throodoni Thráinropp Théomelien Tophem Tostlin Towali Trang Trezh Trinyar Tundacchid Tuorna Túrionde Ubahtar Ubard Ubarffin Ufienian Ugduil Ughath Ullaiship Ulpto Ulwikasich Undian Ungun Uolagol Uolan Uriolassin Urweth Usian Usillid Usiondian Vakho Valberion Valdt Vamindid Vanety Vanárian Viendandar Viensor Vincir Vjumacin Vlugol Vobar Volpeng Vooinduide Vorek Vrausich Vrazogy Vánan Warron Werimlian Whian Winchian Wodorati Wodrayan Wodurwerag Wornor Xenorth Xylas Yaldwan Yaláf Youseand Ysabys Yávidenian Zilabi Zimulki Zumabbof Éodeyllian Éodherinon Éodoants Éoranhíri Éotragwin Óindullian

#444 names #444names #fantasy names #dnd names #fantasy name #names #markov gen #name stash #character names #markovgen

[macile]

Couronne d'églantine...

#fleur #macile #chevreuil

[multiversal-pig-outing]

here me out when she become this instead of being hostel towards the heroes for most part. She just kidnaps Macille and fatten her up.

[olivescales3]

For the prompt thing your doing, could you do something with Razar and Worriz?

Sure!

"Hey there, little chicken fella!", Worriz growls as much as his vocal cords can handle, "You have anything to sell for us?"

The night, shining dimly by the crescent moon, was the perfect time for me to flee the palace. Haha, actually, no– why flee? I actually just needed to take a walk. Breathe some fresh air outside my magnificent terracotta palace. I know he doesn't want me to leave without his 'permission', but it wouldn't hurt doing that once. I, though... was proven wrong!

I barely had time to do anything; I'm far enough from my "territory" to the point that there are no guards around, yet it felt like I did a tenth of a stroll.

Worriz' light gray pelt seems to dissolve into the dark. I'm surprised that, even with his small body size, he manages to emit an unsettling and menacing anguish inside me. His macilent but athletic physique, with his hind paws standing high in an intimidating and confident posture, are quite telling of his intentions.

His muzzle and snout are lifted upwards, forming an ugly snarl. White, sharp teeth poke out of his gums. His shiny lips droop down and cover his molars. Oh... And his eyes... are covered by the same style of make-up from years ago, that form a black line all along his bean eyebrow to the cheekbone. Is his eyesight sensitive to light?

"You idiot! Stop staring at me like that and give me your weapons!"

I jump backwards in fear.

My raspy voice barely leaves my throat, "Gah! B– but I don't have any weapons on me right now, my friend! I have nothing on me!", I stutter, "That's not how you greet a friend. You already got a Chi saw anyways."

Worriz closes his eyelids and pinches them, frowning hard. He sighs and taps his right paw on the ground with impatience. Then, he lets go of his face. This doesn't seem like a mild irritation, no, not at all— he just looks disappointed.

He howls, "Good grief. You're still naive, even as a king... Being a young king must be tough. Man, you're making me feel bad for doing this. Can we just move on?"

I can't sneak anyone inside the palace. He'll ground me. I have no choice though. I don't understand what's going on, and neither do I comprehend Worriz' comment, but alas, I better do something to soften the situation. My dad taught me to be smart.

#writeblr #writing #tfloc #the forgotten legends of chima #writers #writers of tumblr #legends of chima #writerblr #lego legends of chima #lego chima #writers block #writblr #writerscorner #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writing prompt #writing characters #razar the raven #worriz the wolf