((Hello everyone….I’d like to formally apologize for the sudden halt that has happened on this blog. I didn’t realize how fast paced this summer class of mine would be, though I should have expected it considering this class is only a month. That with my moving and work has really stunted any RP replies and I’d rather not try to write them half-heartedly. I promise I will return and try to post up replies when I can, and I’m sorry again about all of this. ))
{{honeybadger though
it just… happened
it went from “no what r u doing I can’t ship my muse’s mother” to “omg that’s actually sorta cute” to “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU JUST KISS EACH OTHER” at breakneck speed}}
((Yep pretty much accurate like it sort of started as a joke and then we were like ‘wait actually it could work?????’ and then yeah and now we are pulling out our hair and yelling angrily at them ‘cause they are fucking slow as shit at doing anything to further their romantic arc
It’s not a bad thing its just frustrating ))
{{but it’s going to be so GLORIOUS when they finally do kiss
like angels singing and trumpets blasting and confetti coming out of nowhere}}
((True.
I just wish they’d hurry it up a little. ))
{{honeybadger though
it just… happened
it went from “no what r u doing I can’t ship my muse’s mother” to “omg that’s actually sorta cute” to “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU JUST KISS EACH OTHER” at breakneck speed}}
((Yep pretty much accurate like it sort of started as a joke and then we were like ‘wait actually it could work?????’ and then yeah and now we are pulling out our hair and yelling angrily at them ‘cause they are fucking slow as shit at doing anything to further their romantic arc
It’s not a bad thing its just frustrating ))
{{in the flower language: deep, romantic love- “my heart aches for you”
I see one of these in Honeybadger’s future}}
((Why do you hurt me this way
Actually why do *I* hurt me in this way
Oh right that’s how RP works damn
Oh well these stupid romantic old badgers I love them ))
(Source: map-of--my-head)
Bifur had slept in the next day and napped throughout, as he were now, (And feared that his time in the Shire might cause this to become habit), and awoke to a few well-placed knocks at his door.A bit early for the post, wasn’t it? All the same, Honey was certain she had heard the letterbox open and shut in the quiet of the morning. Taking her time preparing her tea, she finally took her cup, and went out in her dressing gown to fetch the mail.
What she felt, when she reached inside, was not the post.
She grinned in expectation before she even fetched the little bundle out, and when she saw what it was, and registered the meaning, her silly old heart fluttered again. Well, let it. She brought the flowers with her into her bedroom. She could not remain in her nightdress and dressing gown if she were going to go out to the garden. One thing, she had growing. The other, she would have to hunt for.
She wrapped her shawl around her and went around the back garden, searching for fairy cups. She hoped the girls hadn’t picked them all. Ahh, here were some! She plucked them up, a nice little bundle, and smiled at them. She made for the door, and as she passed them, she scooped up a little bunch of phlox.
Then, she went hunting for ribbons. She wanted two, specific kinds. A wide yellow one, and a narrow red one. When she found them, she tied her bundle together expertly, and laid it in a little box, with a quick drawing of a teapot and two cups. She finished it all just as the postman was making his rounds.
She went out to take the mail personally, and to ask for a little favor. She had a little parcel that had to get to Bag End in a hurry. Sweetening the deal with some fresh muffins and a pleasant smile, Honey got what she wanted. She had the correct postage, after all- and it was only the next town over.
It had only been a few days, but she already missed his company. She would have to wait until teatime to see if he accepted her invitation- though she had little doubt that he would. He had never turned her down yet, the dear.
Bifur had returned to Bag End with no incident, stepping inside to grab a little food from the table before turning on his heels back to the front bench. He could enjoy the sun and its ascent much more now than he ever had; living in the mountains it was natural to be in the dark.
He closed his eyes and munched absently. His eyes flickered opened at the click of the gate; it was Bilbo’s post. Bifur near turned back to what he was doing, but noticing an off package, stopped the man and took it from him personally.
He had been right; it was for him, not Bilbo. He took to the bench again and opened the package delicately. The drawing was easily deciphered and he shook his head to it as if Honey could see his acceptance to her invite. He returned back inside and found the flower book himself, turning pages to match the pictures with the flowers in his package.
He slipped a hand between the pages to keep his spot. Bilbo came around the corner and laughed lightly, stepping to his side to translate.
“Those are fairy cups. It means, ‘winning grace’. These ones are Phlox. They mean, ‘Harmony’ or ‘our souls are united’ or, ‘we think alike’.” Bilbo was rather thorough when he read these things to Bifur, regardless of how many different definitions they had.
“Making good progress?” Bilbo asked, though it was completely rhetorical; it was more than obvious. Bilbo’s eyes lingered lightly on the drawing which drew a smile from him before he left to his desk.
Making progress indeed. Bifur shut the book and put it back as it should. He lingered about Bag End afterward, the drawing between his fingers, as if he might forget. Once time he left with a nod to Bilbo and the flowers placed in a vase in his room along with the previous ones gifted. At her doorstep he chuckled to himself at the familiarity he found in the yellow door now, giving it a firm knock.
Honey wasted no time pulling him down for a kiss to the cheek when he arrived. Sweeping him in toward the kitchen, she was all smiles, and lingered beside his chair for a moment gazing at him.
“It is lovely to have you back again, dear.”
That was her way of saying she had missed him. She ran an affectionate hand through his hair and beard before settling into the chair beside his. She was close enough to pour his tea and this she did, leaving him to sweeten it as he liked.
As she passed the tray of tarts, she reflected upon the vase of flowers she had set out. Red and yellow roses together. That had been a conscious choice, as well. Before he left today, she would make a point of sending one of each color with him. She had her suspicions about who was helping him speak through the flowers, and she wanted to be sure the message was received.
She was happy with him. Happy in a way she had forgotten she could be happy. A way she associated with youth. But here she was. She could say he made her feel young, but she felt that would not be exactly right. She felt her own age… just… lighter. Indeed, she often felt much older than her own age, and this was a welcome change.
She said none of this out loud, but simply smiled at him and gently stroked his hand.
Bifur was no more than beaming over the attention Honey was giving out to him, especially in the quick succession it was given; he had not expected her to sweep him into the house with such obvious and open affection. Yes, no one else was home, but still, these things previously had been doled out slowly across the spans of entire meals or evenings.
He made a small affirming noise to the stroke of her hand through his hair and made a point of staring, as politely as he could at her. He could not think of a manner in which to show how happy he felt better than to relinquish his pride and show her the stupid grin on his face. It all felt natural, like something falling into place.
In the back of his head it made him all the more anxious, as he reminded himself that he wasn’t staying here, he wasn’t staying here to live in Bilbo’s guest room forever, and he wasn’t going to be moving into the Bramble’s home. He was going to travel a weary way back to Erebor and more than likely toil away at his artistic expression in the retirement he now had since he was more than overflowing with gold to last him the rest of his life. He would be back in his house under the mountain with a knife and a knot of wood, alone. No, not alone, but not in company either; Bofur and Bombur had lives of their own, and their time together, really together, the three of them, was over. Yes, they’d come see him, he’d go see them, but they were now and forever more separated. The love was not gone, but it wasn’t their responsibility nor his right to ask that they stay with him and fill his empty house.
That could wait. Right now, at this moment, he was having tea with Honey.
He took two tarts and settled them on his plate, then turned his hand to the sugar and honey to over-indulge himself as per usual. He liked things sweet. His gaze was on the contents of his cup as he stirred it all in, hoping for evenly distributed sweets, before he felt the touch on his hand. He did not look up from his stirring and instead fumbled his hand about some before truly finding Honey’s. He interlaced their fingers together on the table.
It was all too natural and felt and smelled all too lovingly familiar, like something he wanted or maybe something he had. And it was scary. Bifur was not scared of much, in consideration to what he’d experienced in his life and a dwarfs natural hard-headedness, both figuratively and literally speaking. But with the knowledge that this would not stay, no matter how much he wanted it too, the knowledge that at any point Honey could refuse him (he tried hard not to muddle his head with too many specific points why she would, lest he be dragged away from their tea), and a million other variables, least of all his lack of a memory to compare this too, and he was left feeling vulnerable.
He didn’t voice it, didn’t want too, and didn’t want to ruin their tea. Didn’t want to ruin the flowers and everything else. So he continued stirring his tea, for far longer than was probably necessary, and unbidden by a deliberate thought, and instead by his flurry of emotions, he fidgeted the fingers he had laced with Honey’s, stroking hers as she had first done. The action was both to calm him and to show his reciprocated affections to her.
and-raspberry-jam-and-apple-tart:
yes, there is an axe in his head, okay?: Bifur Broadbeam, Dwarven Artist
In my headcanon, Bifur’s an artist and a sculptor, and quite eccentric. Many Dwarves are natural craftsmen and pragmatic artisans, but Bifur has always had an exceptional way of seeing things and tinkering in odd ideas. His favorite media are wood, bone, and metal. After the…
I’ve spent considerable time scrutinizing that earring, and it’s definitely some sort of tooth- not just because of the shape, but the texture and translucency. When i was researching materials to make a replica, one of the closest things resembling that earring were pig’s teeth.
And who just so happens to have a penchant for hunting boar? Mister Bifur!
Theory was solidified when I went looking in the newest Weta book and there’s an illustration of Biff rocking a slightly larger version of that silver-capped tooth on his belt. Apparently this is an Ur-family thing!
OH GOD I LOVE UR FAMILY THINGS
((Sorry to those people I owe replies—-I’ve been moving! I should be able to get back to them either tonight or tomorrow. Again, apologies for the unannounced disappearance. ))
He’d been roused by Honey’s shifting on his lap and a gentle shake of his shoulder. He blinked a few times and watched Honey look about the house. What time was it? Had the children returned? Honey didn’t seem alarmed over anything, so he assumed not. He yawned and stretched and stood, shaking his shirt a bit (for it was beyond wrinkled and had clung to him). Whether they were both still in a haze of wine or whether it just seemed better that way neither of them said a thing, though there was an exchange of smiles before he stepped out of the doorway.The way back to Bag-End Bifur shook and limped, trying to wake his limbs and generally move past the numbness the wine had provided. He didn’t bother to see if Bilbo was about and instead retreated to his guest bedroom. He was awfully tired, but for all the right reasons. He did, reluctantly (because of his sleepiness), changed to his sleepwear, knowing when he’d awake later that he’d be far more comfortable. Laying down he thought over the evening and couldn’t contain smiling and laughing some.
He was far too happy over how it all had ended. He had truly been worried sick over Honey’s reaction to his affections, but all had worked itself out and she reciprocated. He had had fun, much more fun than he had been afforded for a long time. It was always that he couldn’t do this because of his wound or he couldn’t do that because he was getting old and grey. People telling him such things annoyed him to the point that he would rather stay in his own company and do what it was that normally brought him contentment (As it was not practical that his cousins be around all the time).
He felt more than settled in the fact that he would be staying around for a tad longer than he had originally planned.
Honey’d had time to change into a nightdress and settle into an armchair with a cup of herbal tea (which she smiled over reflectively) before the girls had got home. Ame was carrying Del, Arabelle yawning and shuffling her feet, and Aldo had walked them back, carrying Mara. They had seen nothing out of the ordinary, all of them too sleepy to notice the bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table.
They noticed the next morning, though only Amaranth had asked about it. Flowers on the table were not unusual. Flowers floating in a silver bowl amid half-melted candles, however, was unusual. She had forgotten to clean everything up last night. Honey just said she’d had her supper outdoors and left it at that. None of her girls asked about the wine bottle, and she hadn’t volunteered anything. Probably only Arabelle had noticed it anyway.
All that day she was unerringly cheerful. She hummed as she worked, and sang as she knitted, and laughed charmingly at the slightest provocation. When she had a few minutes to herself, she went off on a walk to market. She stopped at a booth full of seeds, bulbs, and potted flowers. She needed something specific- something that did not grow in her garden. Yet. She selected the prettiest bunch and brought it home.
Variegated tulips.
Most she planted, but a few she clipped, and tied together in a yellow ribbon.
She took them with her when she went about delivering the laundry, and slipped them surreptitiously into the mailbox at Bag End.
Bifur had slept in the next day and napped throughout, as he were now, (And feared that his time in the Shire might cause this to become habit), and awoke to a few well-placed knocks at his door.
A bit early for the post, wasn’t it? All the same, Honey was certain she had heard the letterbox open and shut in the quiet of the morning. Taking her time preparing her tea, she finally took her cup, and went out in her dressing gown to fetch the mail.
What she felt, when she reached inside, was not the post.
She grinned in expectation before she even fetched the little bundle out, and when she saw what it was, and registered the meaning, her silly old heart fluttered again. Well, let it. She brought the flowers with her into her bedroom. She could not remain in her nightdress and dressing gown if she were going to go out to the garden. One thing, she had growing. The other, she would have to hunt for.
She wrapped her shawl around her and went around the back garden, searching for fairy cups. She hoped the girls hadn’t picked them all. Ahh, here were some! She plucked them up, a nice little bundle, and smiled at them. She made for the door, and as she passed them, she scooped up a little bunch of phlox.
Then, she went hunting for ribbons. She wanted two, specific kinds. A wide yellow one, and a narrow red one. When she found them, she tied her bundle together expertly, and laid it in a little box, with a quick drawing of a teapot and two cups. She finished it all just as the postman was making his rounds.
She went out to take the mail personally, and to ask for a little favor. She had a little parcel that had to get to Bag End in a hurry. Sweetening the deal with some fresh muffins and a pleasant smile, Honey got what she wanted. She had the correct postage, after all- and it was only the next town over.
It had only been a few days, but she already missed his company. She would have to wait until teatime to see if he accepted her invitation- though she had little doubt that he would. He had never turned her down yet, the dear.
Bifur had returned to Bag End with no incident, stepping inside to grab a little food from the table before turning on his heels back to the front bench. He could enjoy the sun and its ascent much more now than he ever had; living in the mountains it was natural to be in the dark.
He closed his eyes and munched absently. His eyes flickered opened at the click of the gate; it was Bilbo’s post. Bifur near turned back to what he was doing, but noticing an off package, stopped the man and took it from him personally.
He had been right; it was for him, not Bilbo. He took to the bench again and opened the package delicately. The drawing was easily deciphered and he shook his head to it as if Honey could see his acceptance to her invite. He returned back inside and found the flower book himself, turning pages to match the pictures with the flowers in his package.
He slipped a hand between the pages to keep his spot. Bilbo came around the corner and laughed lightly, stepping to his side to translate.
“Those are fairy cups. It means, ‘winning grace’. These ones are Phlox. They mean, ‘Harmony’ or ‘our souls are united’ or, ‘we think alike’.” Bilbo was rather thorough when he read these things to Bifur, regardless of how many different definitions they had.
“Making good progress?” Bilbo asked, though it was completely rhetorical; it was more than obvious. Bilbo’s eyes lingered lightly on the drawing which drew a smile from him before he left to his desk.
Making progress indeed. Bifur shut the book and put it back as it should. He lingered about Bag End afterward, the drawing between his fingers, as if he might forget. Once time he left with a nod to Bilbo and the flowers placed in a vase in his room along with the previous ones gifted. At her doorstep he chuckled to himself at the familiarity he found in the yellow door now, giving it a firm knock.
Bifur did feel a bit guilty. He could be prompt when he wanted to. He never was for people who dismissed him by description alone, for they weren’t worth the effort. So he knew it wasn’t kind to keep Bofur of all Dwarfs waiting. Still, there was an ease to their relationship; he knew regardless of whether he were late or not that Bofur wouldn’t think less of him. Another problem though, Bofur knew he could keep the time just fine and knew that he remembered they were meeting. So it wasn’t as if he were free from Bofur commenting on it.
He had in fact woken early enough to have arrived hours before. But one thing led to another and once he’d packed and prepared he still had plenty of time left. So to that he ended up dismissing the time entirely too senseless tasks, finishing a carving or rearranging something or sweeping. They weren’t important things, but still he did them. He knew he was late, yet he picked the plants down the path anyway. If he were done and late he might as well. No reason to rush what he already missed.
“Bofur.” He pronounced once he came upon him. “Ready?” He asked, as if asking Bofur if he were would dismiss the fact that he hadn’t been.
He slouched in Jessie’s saddle. Behind at the nose end of numb. Perhaps he had it all wrong. Perhaps he was too early. He’d said morning and they’d agreed upon before lunch and no later because Bifur liked details and specifics especially. Ten on the dot was the same as five minutes to in this case and he supposed the poison was in the mud.
And he thought he was probably only sore to set off for the fact that he missed someone. Someone little and soft and purple and hobbity to be perfectly specific. It had been months now - A whole winter and spring nearly. But his promise held. Dwarven word was as good as the gold they mined and he only hoped she thought so still.
The brush split and his cousin popped out in the bat out of hell, someone’s pushed me way that was Bifur, his mane, his axe and the smile he folded into afterwards most eyes missed and practiced, family ones could have closed their own and known was there.
His own pony; shaggy and well-tempered and with hair that stood as much on end as the black and white mop of wires, followed at a slow clop.
Mince pies and cheese and canteened beer from Bombur and his worried wife. Blankets and tent tarps. They’d be warm and fed thanks to the summer sun and Bifur’s sure hand on a hunt.
“An hour ago”, and he meant it a joke more than a dig.
Bifur chuckled deep and only laughed harder at the sight of his slouching cousin; if Bofur wasn’t going to say he was late, then he wouldn’t mention it either. He might as well let him think he was too early and eager to clomp off, though he couldn’t blame him in the least. The both of them had ladies they’d promised to return to. If Bofur wanted to hurry things up he was justified.
He told himself that Bofur’s folly was from love, but he had to admit that perhaps his own procrastination had been doled out in the same spirit. He did miss Honey terribly.
He mounted his own pony, trotting over to Bofur and giving Jessie a slap to start.
“How are you this mornin’?” He asked, putting a pause between his next word. “Numb?”
Okay, so first, sorry to those who follow more than one of my blogs, I’ll be posting this around…
No reason to go into detail, but, I’ve got about less than a week to come up with an amount of money that I do not have and will not gain from my regular work time! Yay!
So, if anyone is interested, I would be more than happy to take commissions. This was all hastily put together and I apologize for that; life is busy, unfortunately.
Additional characters are priced at $2 for sketches and the pencil shading, $5 for lineart, color, and lineless.
Prices that are pointed out individually should pertain to the above chart, sans the pencil sketch and charcoal. If something is labeled wrong in the picture, please stick the prices to the top chart.
If your interested, contact me at: ashley_sasaki@yahoo.com
This is NOT my email for my paypal, which will be given once the actual details of what you want are sorted.
((Reblogging from my main blog if anyone is interested.))
