#friar fics

[barefootfriar]

FOM Balor/Eiland

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[barefootfriar]

ladies and gentleman i present to you friar, america’s next big novelist

[barefootfriar]

fic request for @sweet-suzume !! character: fenimore, prompt: last

(might add more to this later, but for now...!)

When she and Thyra were five years old, their mother sat them down and told them a story.

All her life she’d hated Orerines. It was a feeling deep down in her gut, and as dark and tumultuous as it made her feel to think about it, there was nothing wrong with this feeling. No one had taught it to her - had they? She’d heard fragments, really, pieces of complaints and curses and insults. All the adults talked this way, so it was true. It wasn’t something to learn, per se, as it was a natural instinct. Ferines were not safe in this world, and the fault for that lay in the Orerines hands alone. And that was that.

But this was the first time she’d heard the story.

What started out as a fairy tale quickly wove into history and fact, until her mother finished and the air seemed heavy in its solemn silence. She didn’t want to speak, didn’t trust her words to say anything meaningful against the weight of the sad state of their existence.

Thyra crossed her arms. “What jerks!” To which her mother chastised her language, and Thyra fled squealing.

Fenimore stayed behind, sitting crossed-legged on the carpet, thinking. That night she dreamed of the story and it came to life for her, an epic played out like real life. When morning came she felt so sullen that she stayed home and watched the other children playing through her window.

She half expected Thyra to come bursting in, to be tapping her foot, impatient, wanting to break her from her gloom. Or her mother to come run a hand along her golden hair, whisper encouragement, that “all was right and all will be right in time”. The Merines will return. The Orerines will fall.

But why it wasn’t happening now infuriated her. Now her people suffered. Now they hid and struggled to survive. It frustrated her to the point of tears, and being such a strong willed girl, it was the first time her heart had been broken.

But it would not be the last.

[barefootfriar]

--- Stocke/Rosch/Sonja sick fic --- Stocke/Garland fake dating fic --- Rosch giving Kiel dating advice --- Stocke/Rosch/Sonja where Stocke isn’t sure how to help raise the Kid

[barefootfriar]

@iamasheep sent me a request for shirley x chloe domestic au! it didn’t really turn out as a domestic au, but...! 

A needle was, in essence, just a tiny little sword. Both were silver, shaped long and ending with a dangerous point. So, following this logic, Chloe could not comprehend how she was so bad at sewing.

The dress ended balled up in her furious hands and flung halfway across Will’s living room.

So much for progress! So long, all those hours she’d spent trying to make these silly pieces of silky fabric resemble anything worth wearing! She huffed, buried her face in her hands, and tried to calm down.

Focus was everything. In battle, focus could save your life. You had to be determined enough to move forward and persevere even in the face of defeat. Guilt crept all over her and made her shudder. She’d never given up on something this important before. She’d be damned if she gave up now.

But for the love of all that was holy, sewing was terrible and the very concept should be outlawed!

By the time she’d lowered her hands and decided to move instead of mope, someone else had joined her. She stared. Shirley stared, but her clear blue eyes were looking at the failure of a dress. Her eyes darted up to Chloe, and she seemed to read the situation in an instant.

In the few years that they’d known each other, Chloe had found endless frustration over how her friend was so incredibly feminine. While on the other hand, Chloe herself was… decidedly not. Did this make her less of a woman? It was a question she’d asked herself many times before, because damn, Shirley’s hands were so much softer than hers, her hair so much shinier, and her lips so pink and delicate…

Anyways, looks aside, Shirley could also bake. And sew! Not to mention crochet and knit, and she had beautiful penmanship, and getting back to appearances her wrists were incredibly dainty, and she always smelled like wildflowers, and, and…

These things just built up, over time. So now Chloe sat, watched as Shirley picked up her awful creation, crossed the room to her, and sat down beside her on the sofa. The distance between them had closed so much over the span of three years. Now, when Shirley sat down, their legs brushed together. Chloe didn’t notice, of course. She was too mortified.

Shirley turned the dress over in her (thin, smooth) hands. Her eyes traced every stitch. Finally she lay it down in her lap and turned it so the problem area was laid bare for them both to see. “You’re trying a blind stitch here, right?”

“Um,” Chloe said, very aware that she had no clue.

And then Shirley’s hands were on hers, taking the needle and re-threading it. “Here, I’ll show you. It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

Chloe watched, breathless, as the hem was sewn right up and finished. She nodded. Then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. How did you do that?” She watched as Shirley undid the thread and repeated the process, realization dawning on her and making her eyes widen. “Oh. I see.”

“It’s a beautiful choice in print. Who is it for?”

Heat erupted all over Chloe’s chest, and she tried to keep it from spreading to her face. “Oh, well, you know. It’s for… me?”

Shirley shook her head, her braided hair shaking too. “No, it’s too small for you. You also have a much bigger chest than this bodice allows for.” She seemed to not notice the frenzy this statement caused in Chloe’s head, because she continued on, frowning. “In fact, this dress is for someone shorter than you too… and…” A sly smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Is this a gift?”

Damn it all. Chloe occupied herself with brushing off the fabric, because had it gotten dirty when she threw it? No? Better safe than sorry. “Your… birthday is a month away, but I figured I should get a head-start.” She realized she was mumbling and cleared her throat. “What with my… learning curve, and all.”

The sound Shirley made was sweet as honey. She clasped her hands together with Chloe’s fingers (her rough fingers, her untrimmed nails, her total contrast with everything Shirley showing through all the more). Chloe tried to keep calm. “It was supposed to be a surprise! And it was supposed to look a lot better than this, I swear, I just don’t understand how to make it look good enough for you-”

“C, I think it’s beautiful! But you know what I’d really like for my birthday…?” She batted her eyes. “I’d love to spend some time making this dress with you, teaching you all the stitches, and how to hem and put on backing and…”

Despite feeling frustrated, despite feeling flustered, Chloe laughed. Shirley just had that effect on her, the power to melt away any rainy day. “Alright. If you insist. Let’s make this work, together.”

[barefootfriar]

guess I should start writing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[barefootfriar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Beloved Rapture (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Johan Ambrosa/Aiden Decotaux Characters: Johan Ambrosa, Aiden Decotaux, Lance Callas, Crysta Valdes, Karuka Eto Additional Tags: First Time Topping, Loss of Virginity, Anal Sex, Drinking, Drunk Sex, not really they're just tipsy..... Summary:

A night in the castle, confessions, and silk sheets...

[barefootfriar]

writeober day 2 - tranquil

Right by the door, blocking his exit, was a tall and leggy blonde.

Jusis acknowledged her with a quick nod of his head as he tried slipping past. But no, of course not. She reached out and touched his jacket sleeve. “Have we met?”

He’d attended Thors for how long? Not to mention he was “cream of the crop” nobility. So there was a good chance some random woman would recognize his face at a party. Jusis, however, did not remember faces well unless the person held some significance. He tilted his head back and groaned. “No, I doubt it. I would have remembered someone like you.”

She laughed. What a compliment, and from a nobleman, no less! But when she’d finished her coy laughing, he’s already taken the opportunity to squeeze past her and into the brisk night air.

Despite everything he’d been spoonfed his entire life, Jusis hated parties. Too many people, too bright, too loud... Hell, he wouldn’t even be here had Rean not personally invited him. And, as earlier confessed, Rean wouldn’t be here himself had Towa not begged him to come, because Angelica was hosting the event at the heart of it, and she was as devious a devil as ever. Still, Class VII had only graduated a month ago and by Aidios it was too soon for a “reunion”. If it had been only his friends, his comrades, he’d have been more than willing, but somehow word had gotten out and not only had he ran into Paula and Stefan and … too many others… but to top it off, current and past Thors students decided to show up and it became a mess. As soon as he’d greeted Rean and snubbed Machias, he had been ready to high tail it and find somewhere to sleep, read a book, drink some tea…

But he was here for Rean. He’d spare a few more minutes at the party, and surely that wasn’t too much to sacrifice for someone like Rean.

Just a breath of fresh air. He craved it enough to walk out towards the academy field, hands in his pockets, head down and scowling. There was no one out this far away from the central hub of the merrymaking. He leaned himself against the fence near the stables and closed his eyes. The breeze was picking up, chilling and almost wet with the soon to fall rain, carrying scents of cut grass and cool nighttime.  

This brought him back more than any face. It was almost enough to tempt him to a horseback ride, twice around the track, for old times sake. Maybe a few trails, down in the winding forest past the old schoolhouse…

A hand fell on his shoulder and jerked him out of his isolation. He cursed.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” It was Gaius. A newer Gaius, if a month’s time could make much of a difference - but it could. He seemed taller, if that was possible, and had a hint of stubble along his chin. Didn’t look half bad on him.

Jusis caught himself staring and cleared his throat. “When did you get here?”

When Gaius laughed, everything seemed to lose its tension. The breeze quieted down, the distant noise from the party dulled, and Jusis felt a weight lift right off his shoulders. He’d always had that tranquil effect, that power to soothe. Jusis had relished his presence during testing times, had always gravitated towards him for studying. But it had been a while, and he swore to the goddess he’d been wound tight ever since. “To be honest, I didn’t think I could make it. It’s a long way from Nord.”

“All the way from the highlands for a this kind of party…” Jusis chuckled. “What terrible misfortune you have.”

Gaius seemed to think on this. He turned towards the open field, lifted his head up towards the sky and as always, just looked so damn peaceful. Jusis closed his eyes again. They sat in a still silence and let the night stir around them.

It took some time, but finally Gaius settled on an answer. “It isn’t such bad luck. After all, I got to see you.”

Their eyes met. Both smiled. The breeze picked up and felt lot less cold.