Can we please have one where a Dimileth kid hugs their papa-revealing they have Dimitri’s strength? My family likes to say “squish your guts” when we give tight hugs. Perhaps the kids accidentally takes it literally.
(Story 5 of 10!! fhdsfjsdhjf so cute ;; _ ;; )
“Papa! Papa!!”
Dimitri’s heart sang at the sound of his little one’s voice. Ever since the child learned to speak only a couple years’ ago, the toddler made it clear his father’s name was his favorite word.
And of course, every time he heard the baby call for him, it made him feel so very happy.
“Yes, dear one?” Dimitri turned around to address the child toddling madly into the room, rushing up to him and grasping his father’s leg tightly. “What do you ne-eeeagh!!”
The sound of Dimitri’s distress made you drop your soap. You jumped and stared out the door of the washroom, stark naked and enjoying a proper soak for the morning.
But there was no time to dawdle when your husband was clearly in distress. You snatched a towel and hastily tied it around all while rushing out of the bathroom.
“Dimitri-? Are we under attack? An assassin?” You pushed the doors open and stumbled out to find your husband doubled over, your child looking quite confused as he struggled to handle the pain.
“Mama! Papa funny.” He pointed to his father, who was slowly sinking to the floor.
“Dima, what happened?” You darted to his side. His hands grasped shakily at his leg, the armor around his shin completely shattered.
“I think...h-he’s broken my leg.”
“What?!” You stared at your son who stood innocently beside Dimitri, making grabby hands at you.
“I hug Papa!”
“...Oh, no.”
“I t-think it’s safe to s-say he’s got the Crest.”
“I’ll get Marianne.” You threw on your robes and took your son’s hand, sending the guards to retrieve the bluebell cleric.
“Mama?” The little one’s eyebrows turned upward, confused and worried. “I do bad?”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You assured him, but the toddler saw right through.
“Papa...hurt?”
“Just a little bit. We’ll heal it right up.”
“I hurt Papa?”
“It was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” You petted the top of his head, settling him on your hip before returning to the bedroom.
Dimitri had managed to peel himself away from the injured leg, which was throbbing in pain and clearly swollen and bruised. Granted it would heal up in no time, but until then, it was miserable to look at (let alone feel).
He rested back on his hands, offering you a thin smile when you returned to him.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It wasn’t a clean break, was it.”
“No.” He sucked in a sharp breath, “When d-did you say Marianne was coming?”
“I’m here, Your Majesty!!” Marianne rushed into the bedroom with Lysithea and Mercedes hot on her tail. When they saw the wound they all gasped. The little prince hid behind you. “Oh, Goddess, what has happened? Were you attacked?”
“No, n-no. Just an unfortunate accident. It appears the Crest of Blaiddyd is alive and well.”
“What do you...oh.” Mercedes looked down, finding the teary boy grasping your dress. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dimitri, of course, could see quite clearly the guilt in the poor child’s eyes.
“Not to worry. We’ll have this fixed up in no time.” Lysithea assured you both, “Hold still, Your Grace.”
It was as they said; the wound was gone and he was back to normal in a matter of minutes. The three of them instructed him to ditch the armor and take it easy for the day. You helped him into bed, keeping the pressure off his leg just in case, the armaor quickly forgotten and his clothes replaced with something far more comfortable.
“Mikhail,” Dimitri called for his son, holding his hand over the side of the bed. “Come here.”
He waddled over obediently, though his little cheeks were already stained with tears. Dimitri scooped the boy up with a single arm, settling him onto the blankets and holding him to his side.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I hurt Papa.”
“It was an accident.” He assured the boy, wiping the tears off chubby cheeks. “You’re very strong, like Papa. Sometimes this happens. But I’m all better now, see?”
The little one held his father’s hand, sniffling loudly. “All better?”
“All better.” He kissed Mikhail’s forehead. “We just need to practice being gentle.”
“Gentle.” The boy echoed. You settled onto the bed, bringing the boy between his parents. You stroked his hair, happily snuggling the baby between you.
“See? Everything’s okay. You’re just strong, like Papa. So we’ll teach you to handle being strong.”
You snuggled up with your boys for the remainder of the afternoon, going to great lengths to delegate your remaining duties to others.
Once your precious child was asleep between you, you made sure to tease Dimitri for being secretly proud of his son bearing his crest.
Though you would need to strategize to avoid more broken legs in the future.
I am Roooodworks, developer of Hearts and hardship SRPG , it's an otome SRPG datin… Roood Works needs your support for Character arts for Hearts and Hardships
Hi people, I created a Gofundme page to be able to afford the last nine characters for my srpg otome dating sim visual novel game. Thanks to all that support, it will mean the world to me.
The users who donate the money would have their names if they wanted, in the credits.
Character dolls and OC's! Prices start at $30 and will vary depending on size, material, and complexity of design.
All dolls are freehand/made from my own patterns so with that in mind please respect my decision to turn down any project i feel i cannot accomplish properly.
I will not pussyfoot around this. I have found myself in a little ditty and need funds asap. There I said it.
BUT I will sweeten the deal. By the end of the week (July 16) I will include each donor in a raffle for an 8" handmade crochet doll of their choice (see sample below of Alistair and custom Warden Kylara I did). Each donation will be one entry, of if you donated 2 ko-fi’s that’s two entries, etc.
Ko-fi link here
Please also pm with your tumblr name after every donation so i know who you are. I will give out sketches asap but later donations may have a waiting period. Please be patient amd understanding. Quick sketches are limited portraits as I don’t think I will have enough time to do much more. Monochrome but I can do colored if you are willing to wait. I will accept entries till July 16. All names will be entered and picked by a random name picker. Winner will be announced on Monday, July 17. Doll production will start only after I have spoken to the winner.
I hope y'all are in for this if so, thank you in advance and good luck!
It’s the pad of a finger that finds her first; barely a touch, more a restless search. But it penetrates through sleep’s haze and rouse her instincts just enough to react. She stirs a fraction, turning onto her back and opening her body up. And it works. The Fade retains its hold on her, but the hairs on her arms, that tender patch of skin at the nape of her neck register his warmth; the musk of fear and fatigue creeping in as the mattress dips with his weight. A mouthful of air hits her, breathed in a hot staccato. She reaches out, tentatively, cautious not to frighten him any more. She waits, her conscious lingering between realms while the seconds (or minutes?) pass. The blanket’s rustle forebodes his next manoeuvre - a shin stretching to find her, frizz tickling as he seeks her warmth, her solace. His breath comes in ragged bursts, broken up by hoarse whispers, weak croaks that grip her heart, twisting it with the strength of a demon’s claw.
“No,” a whimper, “please.”
She’s waking, conscious ebbing towards full control of her senses. A drowsy blink reveals her quarters bathed in shadows yet, with the moon’s silver veil peeking through the curtains. And Cullen is there, the Commander’s posture gone, trembling limbs curled up; his stern features sunken into the grimace of a lad barely of age fearing for his life and soul. “No,” he moans again, and she reaches out, slim arm coming to rest on his broad back, pulling him close in the gentlest, tenderest manner. Though semi-conscious at best, he reacts - a stubbly cheek rasping against her collarbone as he lays down his head, ragged breathing slowing down; even a little hum escapes him when her hand brushes soothing patterns through damp hair. They lie entwined, allowing the other’s heartbeat to lull them back into a sleep, to a place safe from his demons, soundly at rest in her embrace.
Come the morrow he’ll rise, ready to greet a fresh day, to lead their army towards peace. He won’t remember his terrors, or so she hopes. But she’ll see the affection glowing in deep amber, the smile he saves for her, reflecting her own that’s born from relief and love alike. And they’ll know that he is indeed strong, content, at peace when she holds him.
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