#NOW I JUST HAVE TO FUCKING PAINTING HUNT. HOORAY ����

[nexus-nebulae]

just realised that the first media we consumed that made us REALLY sympathetic for the monster was that fucking point and click Mystery Case Files Ravenhearst game. bc that entire game i was legitimately fucking TERRIFIED of the ghost lady in that game but the second i found out her husband was abusive i doubled down on trying to help her escape. and the ending of that game Did make me cry out of fear but hey at least i did in fact help her escape

[themadauthorshatter]

A lot of you seem to really like that Swap AU for Red Queen, so...

Time for a Part 2!!!!!

Like with Glass Sword, we start with Mare and crew on a train, Shade next to her while the rest their rifles aimed at Maven, who sits resolutely.

Kilorn is especially pissed because he doesn't trust the crown prince's younger brother, nor even when the bastard almost got all of them killed. Twice.

Maven snips that he was at fault for the second time, but Kilorn's stupider than he already is, if he thinks Maven palnned for Ptolemus to survive and come came to hunt them all down.

Mare barks at Maven to shut up, but Kilorn is more direct, punching the traitor prince in the nose.

Before he can do more, Farley calls him off, telling him he can kick Maven's ass later, when they're not on the train.

Reluctantly, Kilorn backs off and leaves Maven to wipe his nose off.

Mare, in an effort to diffuse the tension, asks where they're all going, anyway.

Shade and Farley glance at each other, then to Maven, before Shade explains they're on their way to Tuck.

Both Mare and Maven are confused, but there's no time for questions because they get attacked, as in their train gets derailed and is crushed like a tin can, chasing everyone outside.

ACTION TIME!!!!!!

Everyone hightails it out as they and the rest of the team with them fight off Silver forces. Their main goal is to get to what looks like a cliffside; Farley points to it and shouts they run there.

Mare notices the sudden lack of Maven, but shakes it off; he can either die or catch up somehow, it's every man for himself right now.

Mare does well in fending for herself, like before, but that stops when she's found and surrounded by a huge number of Silvers who are not afraid to rittle her with bullets, if she does anything.

The only reason they ARE afraid is because their General gave them a very strict order to not shoot unless he says so.

And this General is Cal, who instantly notices that Maven is missing and asks Mare where he is.

Mare challenges him, wondering if he's planning on shooting his brother himself, if she gives him up.

Cal snaps, asking if she's really defending someone who betrayed her, after lying to her for so long.

Mare still doesn't reveal that Maven ran, and instead growls that if Cal's trying to bring her back, it won't work, because she's not getting her family killed with her.

And she sure as hell isn't trusting the person who screwed her over in the first place.

Those words put a hole in Cal's chest and he turns to whoever is his second in command.

"Open fire."

The poor bastard doesn't get a chance to do anything because Mare brings the plane(I think it's a Snap Dragon?) down, and blue flames fly out and drive away most of the Silvers.

Turns out Maven didn't run far at all, and instead gestures for Mare to run for the cliffside, which she does.

Mare and Maven cover themselves and each other, even as Cal says, 'fuck it,' and gives chase, the boys engage in a firefight from a distance.

Before things can get serious, Mare and Maven make it the cliffside and jump, Cal shouting that they can't run or hide forever. They will be found, and they will pay for their crimes, one way or another, regardless of their rank or the color of their blood. Even if Cal has to be the one to find them and execute them, they will face justice.

Mare and Maven find themselves in the submarine like before and Maven is made to stick around because no one wants to go looking for him, should he decide to run off and get lost.

It's here that Maven expresses that if Cal's hunting them, then they're all on borrowed time, 'them' being him, Mare, the Scarlet Guard, and any Newbloods Elara bothered to remember.

While he gets patched up, Shade asks why that's such a big deal, seeing as how they managed to get away.

Maven makes it clear: Cal does not know how to sit still. He's a hunter, a GOOD hunter. He'll solve problems with action, not words. He has an entire legion at his command, too, and both Samos children on his side.

And Cal can't think for himself to save his life. Most of his decisions come from someone else.

And guess who decided that Mare, Maven, and the Guard need to be erased?

It paints a clear picture for everyone, and Farley asks Mare to think about the Newbloods and try to remember any specific names, or pick out someone they need to pick up before leaving.

Mare doesn't have too long to think because they arrive at Tuck.

It's raining and pouring, but the group still gets to the surface, where Mare reunites with Bree. (Hooray!)

And Maven is captured by the Colonel.

Unlike before, there is and isn't a rush to find the Newbloods, there is because Elara and Tibe can pull the names of on a computer, print a list, and have them all killed, but there isn't because they need to look through the blood base to find the names, which will probably take a while because no Silver ever pays a Red any mind.

Mare still wants to go and talks Shade, Farley, Kilorn into helping, but also stipulates that she needs to bring Maven with, because he knows the most as a Silver she doesn't trust him in his own(Sure, good cover).

They're agaunst the idea, but Kilorn caves and helps her get Maven out.

Speaking of Maven, what's he been doing? Simple. Trying to find a way out without going inside. Elara's in his head and he can't get her to leave.

He's been in his cell for a few days, but has been more cooperative than Cal, turning his back to eat, not beating his knuckles bloody, and even trying to rearrange so he doesn't absolutely lose it.

He's chilling against the wall when Mare and Kilorn come in, and he's so excited to see BOTH of them for a change.

Neither really notice how the acrylic is scuffed up.

At least until Kilorn throws Mare in and locks them both inside of the cell.

They're left anger and unhappy and, after some back and forth, Mare asks what Maven about Tuck.

He admits he doesn't know much; geography was more up Cal's league, but Mare doesn't have Cal with her, she has Maven, and he apologizes for not being what or who she wants.

Mare doesn't respond and they remain silent for up to a few days.

In one of those days, Maven has a really bad phantom Elara headache, and from all the stress of what's happened.

While they sit across from each other, Mare against one wall and Maven against the other, Maven cluthes his head and screams until he runs out of breath, which he catches before screaming again.

Mare, out of curiosity and having similar feelings, after realizing what she said to Cal and how she's in over her head, joins him.

It feels good to get it out, so she keeps going.

Both scream until they're sick of it and sit back against the wall, sitting side by side.

They're met up by the Colonel, who comments in both the layout of the room and literally screaming matching before cutting to the trace.

The crown prince made an offer they can't refuse: one of the traitors for the removal of the measures as a whole. It doesn't matter which one, they just need one of them alive, and the Colonel wants to keep Mare around, for the sake of the 'Newbloods' Julien told her about.

Maven, not exactly buying it, asks why they only need ONE of them when both would be more valuable.

The Colonel warns him not to get cocky, but Maven pieces it together:

The COLONEL offered one in return for both, seeing as how both Mare and Maven have seen the list. All Elara really needs is one of them, and then she, Tibe, and Cal have access to find and hunt down the Newbloods. After that, they'll probably kill him.

Maven, understanding there's no real way he's getting out of this(if he refuses, Mare's getting sent to them instead, and then he'll have to deal with the fact he got her killed and her grieving friend and family), asks when he'll be leaving.

The Colonel nods and states whenever the jet is ready. Just as he leaves to let Maven and Mare say goodbye, he tells Maven that enough men and women have been killed, so with his death, at least he'll stop children from following.

Maven and Mare watch him leave.

Only to see him fall back.

Kilorn has returned with Farley and Shade in toe, Farley holding up a set of keys to the cell.

Like before, they leave via the Black Run, but this time it's Farley that has to pilot because Cal's not around in this timeline- I mean, AU.😁

Also like before, after some discourse from Kilorn and and maybe teasing from Shade(because he calls Maven the 'little prince' to be harmless), they find Nix Marsten, and if he beat the daylights out of Cal, he beats THE EVER AND NEVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF MAVEN.

Did he lead his daughters to their deaths? No.

Was he there with Cal when it was planned that they take a legion across a river/waterfall? Yes.

Was he known for instilling a little bit of reasoning in Cal? Yes.

Did he do that when Cal made the decision to cross a waterfall to fight an enemy force? No.

Maven is incredibly guilty, having been a few people behind when he saw the girls went over the falls, screaming, sputtering, and crying for someone to help them even when they went over the edge and screamed most of the way down.

He says that he knows it's useless, but he's too sorry for words. Too many Reds have died and soon Newbloods like Nix, Mare, and Shade will follow, if they don't hurry.

Nix, reluctant, goes with them, but asks firmly that Maven be kept the HELL away from him.

With Cal, Tibe, and Elara, the Queen is led to the Silent Stone cells, where Cal is sitting.

She asks the Sentinel to leave them, and he does, before asking Cal why he can't follow simple orders, for a General?

Cal snaps that he DID follow those orders. He just didn't retriwve Mare and Maven because Mare threw a plane at them and he and Maven had a firefight before they escaped.

And it was not his fault there was a submarine there and that it was on a cliffside.

Elara laughs out and tells him that he'd better be able to explain that to his father, because he's just about ready to kill him, Mare, and Maven himself.

Cal gives a laugh, asking if she'd like that to happen, seeing as how that was her plan.

Elara takes a breath and warns Cal that if it weren't for the Silent Stone, she would have disposed of him the same way she did with Coriane; in her own words, "the weak bitch stole the crown from me once, and I won't let her bastard take it again."

Cal asks when he's getting executed, but Elara smirks.

No need, because they found Maven and Mare, and Tibe, who loves Coriane's son SO much, is sparing him for Maven, who's getting thrown to Volo Samos and Rem Rhambos.

After that, she'll scramble his brains with a fork until he's more broken than both his parents put together, regardless of his place as the crown prince of Norta; this ain't The Folk of The Air, people. She can marry and ally to whomever, but ELARA is going to rule Norta and will make the Lakelands and the other countries surrounding Norta kowtow to her will.

Cal watches her leave, nervous for himself, but more concerned for Maven.

Well, at least he hears, "WHY IS EVERYONE SO USELESS LATELY!?" down the hall.

Elara returns and Cal makes a suggestion to where Maven and Mare are going, for it's population amd the fact Elara hates the place in general:

Harbor Bay.

And he has a way to bring Mare back, one he made a while back.

And Part 2 is going to need a Part 2 because this is going to be longer than I thought😅

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 5

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by a endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

5

We spent the following days moving through interchanging woodland and fields. There wasn’t much interaction between us, except for the occasional necessary one. Food. Someone needing to tinkle – Jaskier. Resting. A pack of wild dogs; quickly disposed of, by the witcher. Someone needing to tinkle – again…

The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable; but after three days and nights; it was becoming deafening. Jaskier finally broke it, by beginning to strum his lute. “… The curs’ eyes, they shone red; we were surely dead… No…”, he tried. “The frightened princess cried; Witcher! Don’t let me die!...”.

“How about: The sixth time the bard had to piss, the angry witcher hissed?”, I sneered. Geralt snorted, trying to stifle laughter.

Jaskier frowned. “You should probably let a professional handle the songwriting”. “Let us know when we meet one”, the witcher grumbled. The bard scoffed, offended. “Sometimes I wonder why I let you travel with me”, he said, and went to walk a few paces in front of us.

We walked in silence for a little while longer; a spattering of cottages in the distance. “Jaskier said you called me an overrated sell-sword? When?”, Geralt asked. “While you were paying the fisherman for our passage from Skellige”, I admitted. “You were being an ass”. “Well, you were being a brat”, he smirked. “Yes…”, I said. I looked at him. “I didn’t think you cared what I thought of you”. He simply grunted. “You’ve spent three days thinking about that?”, I smirked. “I have my professional pride”, he mumbled.

“Apparently only one of us is allowed to have that”, Jaskier called from in front of us, still sulking. I felt bad for him. “I’m sorry for making fun of your song”, I said. “You’re a talented bard, Jaskier”. He looked back over his shoulder at me, one brow lifted. “Talented enough for a wedding feast?”, he said. I looked down. “If it’s mine, I’d prefer silence”, I mumbled. “Silence, and alcohol”.

Geralt traced my face, and frowned slightly, before looking forward again. “We’ll be in Tigg by tomorrow evening”, he said; and would no longer meet my eyes.

---

Tigg was a colorful, small stronghold; that overlooked a village and some brightly painted military barracks. As the witcher had said, we were at its gates just as the sun was setting over the fields.

Opening the gates, were two clearly intoxicated soldiers; one of which had a giggling woman – in a scandalous level of undress – waiting for him in his shelter behind the wall. Sounds of laughing and clinking glasses came from the main hall in the middle of the courtyard.

“Ah, Tigg!”, Jaskier said. “Hurry, we’re already late for the party”. “What party?”, I asked. “It’s the Baron Coodcoodlaks birthday week!”, he answered with a bright smile.

Leaving Roach in the stables; we went to join the festivities. The doors opened to a brightly lit room decorated in Cintran colors. All around us, men and women were cheering and laughing; and the air smelled of fried meat and ale.

“The entertainment has arrived!”, a thin and whiskered man; standing on top of the main table, yelled. He jumped to the floor, and walked towards us. “You…”, he said – pointing at Jaskier, “… are late!”. Jaskier bowed deeply. “My deepest regrets, baron. I’ve been caught up in monster-hunting, and protecting fair maidens from wild dogs”. He grinned at the colorfully dressed man.

The baron turned to look at the witcher and me. I realized then, that I’d met him before. His eyes returned my recognition. “My lady Y/N!”. “Baron Eylembert”, I smiled, as he grabbed my hand to kiss.

The baron was known for his animal sound impersonations, and his love of women and drink – giving him the nickname of Coodcoodlak.

He pulled me to the middle of the floor. “Laddies and gentlepeople! This is the fair lady Y/N – future queen of Temeria”. All eyes in the room turned towards me; and I felt instantly uncomfortable.

Next to me; Geralt tensed up – examining the room. His gaze lingered on a group of men sitting at a table in a corner. They looked grim; dressed in black, and carrying swords at their hips. The ladies at the table seemed unable to attract their attentions; not for want of trying.

The baron dragged me along to sit at his table, and poured me a goblet of something that smelled familiar. “Skellige mead”, he smiled at me. “A little taste of home”. I twitched at his use of the word home. We saluted each other with our goblets, and drank. “I have not seen you since… was it at the Capital? The princess Pavetta’s 10’th birthday!”, he said. “You, my dear, have not changed a day. Maybe a bit more… inspiring to the… carnal senses”, he winked and leered at me. I heard Geralt make a sound like a growl from next to me. His tense disposition had not relaxed one bit. He seemed in attack mode, and ready to draw his sword at any moment. He must feel a desperate duty to keep me pure for my husband, I thought.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, it was the princess’ 10’th celebration”. My one and only – other – visit to the continent. The baron licked his lips, and smirked at me. “How is your wife?”, I asked, and took another sip of my goblet. He groaned. “Still sickly, I’m afraid. She spends most of her time in the Capital, tending to her fragile nerves”. “And yet, you’re still here at Tigg”, I said. “Yes, well… the queen needs me to keep this stronghold. And I must tend to my duties”, he answered. “Music!”, he called to Jaskier, who instantly began a lively tune.

The men from the table in the corner began capitulating to their lady friends’ advances. The witcher seemed to relax in his seat. He took a piece of meat from the tray in front of him. The baron looked at him.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia. The Butcher of Blaaviken”. The witcher flinched at the nickname. He grunted in response. “I am”. “I don’t remember inviting you to this feast; but you are very welcome none the less. You must have some intriguing stories to tell!”, the baron said, and looked at him with beaming eyes. Geralt chuckled. “That’s what I have him for”, he nodded in Jaskiers direction.

The bard had apparently finished “my” song. “Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee…”, he sang, goading the crowd on to join him in the chorus. “The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles – everyone! – The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”

My cheeks flushed red. Geralt stifled a smile next to me. “It’s not funny”, I sneered. “Yes, it is”, he said. “Well, fuck you very much”, I grumbled.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige isles!”, Jaskier finished to a roar of applause; turned to look at me, and bowed, with a wink.

The baron applauded along with his guests; and threw a handful of silver coins on the floor in front of Jaskier; who gathered them up with a deep bow at the man. “Well…”, the baron said, “… I am very happy that you showed up to this celebration”. He placed a hand on my thigh; squeezing it. Geralt tensed up again. “And, the night isn’t over yet. There is so much more fun to be had”. He wiggled his brow suggestively.

I swallowed hard. “Baron, I…”. “Come now, my lady”, he interrupted. “I can’t let Foltest have all the fun. Think of the stories we’ll both have to tell! The queen of Temeria; cockadoodled by Coodcoodlak!”. He let out a rooster’s crow; and the room joined him in the sound.

I grabbed his wrist, and pried his hand away from my leg. “Though your offer is very generous; I’ve had a rather trying few days, and desperately need some rest”. The baron sighed. “Yes, yes. I’ll have my man prepare a room for you. Witcher; I’m guessing you’ll be fine sleeping by the stables”. Geralt grunted. “No!”, I said. “The witcher is my bodyguard; and has orders not to leave my side”. I wasn’t certain that the famous Rooster of Tigg wouldn’t try to sneak his way into my bed as I slept. And I’d grown used to have Geralt near me.

The baron looked at me; and then at Geralt – lifting an eyebrow. “I see…”, he smirked. “I’ll have them set up a cot by the door. You can stay for the fireworks later this week!”.

“No need. We leave in the morning”, the witcher said gruffly, and stood up to leave. “But this is just the first night of the celebration!”, the baron proclaimed with a pitched voice. “Foltest is eager to meet his future wife”, Geralt answered; and pulled back my chair for me to stand. “Fine”, the Baron grunted. “Send the sweaty bastard my well wishes. I’ll probably be to hung over in the morning to see you off”. He stood up, and took my hand; kissing it. “I wish you good health and many sons, my lady! Gods know, that feeble minded daughter of his should be kept well away from the throne”.

I nodded politely, and we left the room in haste – Geralts hand ghosting my lower back.

“Three cheers for lady Y/N; the queen of Temeria!”, I heard from behind us. “Hip, hip, hooray!...”.

---

The room was warm and dimly lit. There was a smoldering fireplace, and a pitcher of ale had been left on the table. Behind a lavishly embroidered divider, a tub of hot water was waiting for me to have a bath.

The witcher closed the door, and bolted it. “We need to be more careful”, he grumbled. “We’ve made to much of a display of who you are already”. I didn’t answer. “I won’t let him come in here”, Geralt said. “I know”, I answered. “Wouldn’t want him touching the king’s package”.

The witcher groaned something I couldn’t make out. “… not it”. “What?”, I asked. He sighed. “You can take a bath. I’ll rebuild the fire”. I frowned at him.

Once behind the divider, I removed my dress and my chemise; leaving me naked, save for the bandage on my knee. I untied it gingerly, revealing the wound to have almost healed into a thin red scar. The witchers treatment had worked.

I stepped into the tub; lowering my body into the water; gasping loudly from the heat.

“Are you all right?”, Geralt asked from behind the divider. “Yes”, I answered. “It’s just hot”. He grumbled something again.

“If you’re going to talk to me, at least do it audibly, so I can respond in kind”, I said. “So now you want to talk”, he retorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I heard him remove the straps holding his sword to his back, and putting it aside. “You’ve spent most of the last three days avoiding conversation”, he said. “You’re not the most talkative person yourself”, I answered with a sneer. “I’m not around people much. Not used to conversation”. “Is that why you talk to your horse? To train for actual human interaction?”, I jeered.

“I’m not a human”, he answered gruffly. I heard two more bumps, from what I guessed was his boots hitting the floor. “You look human”, I said. “I do?”, he asked, with what I could hear was a smirk.

“Mostly”, I answered.

We were quiet for a while. I began to wash myself with the sponge provided; sitting up, so my torso was uncovered by the water. The warmth from the fire didn’t stop a chill from grazing my breasts, after I poured a pitcher of water over myself; and my nipples perked in response.

“So, let’s have a conversation, witcher”, I said; unable to take the quiet anymore. “What do you want to talk about?”. I heard him poke at the fire. “Well”, I said. “You seem to know most there is to know about me. Or at least what you tell yourself I am. Tell me about you”. “There isn’t much to tell”, he answered. I squeezed the sponge over my arm, letting the water run down it. “That’s a crock of shit”, I said; and heard him chuckle. “You’ve lived longer than any man I’ve met before. You must have a past”. He didn’t answer. I sighed.

“Witchers are made in Kaer Morhen; aren’t they?”, I asked. “We were”, he answered. “It was raided. No more witchers can be made”. I washed my other arm. “You sound pleased about that”, I said. I heard him sigh. “It was my home, so no; I’m not pleased. But the trials I had to go through there were… I wouldn’t wish them on anyone”. We were quiet for a little while.

“Are you originally from Rivia?”, I asked, focusing on washing my feet now. I heard him chuckle again. “My master, Vesemir, encouraged me to make myself a new name. And a surname. He said it would make me seem more trustworthy”. “So, no”, I said. “No”, he answered. “I don’t remember much from before my trials. Let alone where I was born”.

I stood up in the bath, my body chilled instantly; and goosebumps began to form on my skin. “You have no roots; no homeland. I suppose we are not so different”. “What do you mean?”, he asked.

I wrapped myself in a towel, and put on a robe that had been left for me on the chair by the tub. “I have no homeland either”, I said. “Not anymore”.

I stepped out from behind the divider; and looked at him. His eyes were lit by the fire, and his features soft and earnest. He looked almost kind.

“But you do”, he said. “You just choose not to accept the one offered”. “It’s not offered”, I grumbled. “It’s forced upon me. By my cousin. By my fiancée”, I sneered. “And by you”.

He shook his head. “I cannot force you to say yes to Foltest. I can only bring you to him”.

I looked at the floor, and sat by the fire to brush my hair.

“The water is still warm”, I said. “If you want a bath”. He grunted and nodded; and went behind the divider to undress.

I heard him step into the water. “Shit”, he said. “What?”. “I forgot a towel”, he grumbled. “Could you?...”.

I turned around, and noticed that the light from the candles by the bath, lit up the fabric of the divider, making me able to see his naked form through it. His back was turned to me; but I could see his bottom – firm like the rest of him. His tall, muscular frame sent jolts of heat through my body.

I suddenly realized, that he had been able to see the shadow of my figure all along, as well.

I shook myself to refocus. “You should probably… sit”, I said. I saw him sit down; and walked around the divider; remembering to take the towel he needed with me. I placed it on the chair.

His hand grabbed my wrist. “What happened that night…”. Our eyes met tentatively. “It shouldn’t have”, I said. “I’m sorry for doing that”. He nodded. “Of course you are”, he said, almost angrily – and let go of my wrist.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked.

“You’re ashamed. Can’t be the queen of Temeria, and slum it with a witcher”, he growled. “I don’t want to be queen”, I sneered. “And you don’t want me either”, he retorted.

“Yes, I do; you idiot!”, I yelled. “But you didn’t want me!”. I threw the bar of soap into the water; and it hit the surface with a big splash.

He stood up – in all his glory – and stared me square in the face. My breath hitched as I continued. “For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind!”.

His eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth and growled; before he put his hands around the back of my neck; pulling me into him – and making our lips meet in a heated kiss.

I slid my arms around his neck, and his hands travelled down my back; holding on to me as fervently as he had those few nights ago. At first our kiss was rough – almost violent – but then it evolved into a softer and warmer interaction of our lips and tongues; embracing and melding together. His hands that had held me in place, began to rub my back soothingly.

I was sliding against his slick, wet chest; finding it difficult to keep my footing, due to the edge of the tub meeting my thigs and separating us.

I pulled back from him; and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with a man I did not choose”, I said. “Let me at least have one night with one that I did”. His face went from angry to soft and gentle; and he stroked my cheek with his thumb. “As you wish, little frog”, he smiled; and met my lips again.

He slid his hands down my thighs, and lifted me up, for me to straddle his waist. I removed the robe; leaving me in the towel. He sat us down – me on his lap – in the tub; and continued the gentle movement of his lips. There was still a ferocity to his kiss – raw and primal – and my body responded by shivering in pleasure. His length was growing hard against me; and I looked down for the first time, taking in the masterwork it was; through the surface of the water. My breath hitched again; and he smirked at me. “Everything looks bigger in water”, he chuckled; and my cheeks reddened. I bit my lip.

Leaning back in the tub, separating our torsos; his fingers ghosted my cheek, moving down over my neck, before he ran his thumb across my collarbone. He continued his journey further down, lightly touching the silver chain around my neck; and stopping at the top of the towel I was still wearing – now soaking wet.

“May I?”, he asked. “And if I say no?”, I smirked. He chuckled, and opened the towel, revealing my breasts to him; the pendant resting between them. “Little frog”, he said. “Big bad wolf”, I jeered. He raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s a different fairytale”, he smiled; leant in, and kissed the spot of skin on the middle of my collarbone.

His hands ghosted over my breasts for a second, before cupping them in his hands, and running his thumbs over my tender nipples. I gasped and leant back, resting against his bended legs. I felt his cock twitch between my legs; and it instantly sent a jolt through my body. “Mmhmm”, it came as guttural growl from him; and his lips met the tender skin under my ear.

I slid my hands up his firm chest – relishing in the feeling of the soft hair against my palms – and moved them over his shoulder, gently running my nails down his back. He moaned at the sensation, and I smiled at the effect I had on him. It made me feel stronger than I ever had before. He pinched my nipples hard in response – just for a second – and I cried out from the sweet pain.

He chuckled against my neck, and nibbled at my earlobe. “Can I touch you?”, he breathed. I turned to look at his face, and nodded. He blinked at me slowly – just like I had at the cat from days ago – and slid his hand down between my breasts, under the water; and all the way down to my curls. I clenched my jaw in anticipation, and closed my eyes.

At first, it was just his finger, tracing the outlines of my labia. I heard him moan, and opened my eyes to see that his were closed. He was smiling. “I’d say you were all wet, but that would be too obvious”, he laughed, and looked at me again. My own laugh was halted by the sudden feeling of his finger sliding inside me; crooking itself against my front wall.

“Geralt…”, I gasped. “Yes?”, he smirked, and slid his other hand down; letting his fingers find my nub and gently rub it. “I… you…”, I said. “What, hm? What are you trying to say?”, he interrupted. “… teasing…”, I laughingly panted. “Yes, I am”, he said, jest in his voice. I moaned loudly, and threw my arms around his neck; riding his hands. His fully erect member pressed against my stomach; and his fingers continued their assault on my tender core.

I moved my hand in front of me and grabbed it, slowly beginning to pump him – making him moan in response; and press his forehead to my shoulder. We moved together for a while; pleasuring each other; the sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub rhythmically.

A familiar tingling warmth began to radiate from my vagina. “Geralt, you’re making me… ah!”, I breathed. “Not yet!”, he said; removed his fingers from me, and pried my hand from his penis. “I want to look at you first. Stand up”, he demanded.

My legs shaking; I stood up in front of him, my feet between his spread legs – careful not to step on or kick that most valued thing on his body, that I wanted nothing more than to have inside me. I stood there – shivering from the wetness of my skin, and the still unfulfilled desire burning in me. He looked me up and down with hazy eyes. “A sight”, he smiled. I flushed red.

He leant forward, looking me in the eyes; and grabbed a hold of my butt-cheeks; pulling me towards his face. His eyes were feral; and he put his lips to my sensitive folds; kissing my nub gently. His tongue searched my lips for my entrance; and his hands left my cheeks for a second, to make me spread my legs a little, giving him better access.

Hands back where they’d been; he then licked me from my entrance to my clit, giving it a nibble with his lips. He was careful to avoid using his teeth; making the feeling soft and gentle; in contrast to his harsh hold on my behind – one that was sure to leave marks.

He moaned, and flicked his tongue over the little bundle of nerves between my legs. The warm feeling from inside began spreading again, and my legs began shaking. I grabbed a hold of the back of his head; which seemed to give him the impression that I wanted him to continue – which I did. The problem was that I could hardly stand on my feet anymore, from the loss of control I was feeling over my body.

“G-going to fall”, I stammered; and he finally pulled back. “That much?”, he wondered. I bit my lips, and nodded. “Hhmm”, he groaned, and let go of my cheeks. “Bed”, he concluded, and stood up.

My mouth was agape from the full sight of him again. Muscled toned torso, thighs like logs, and arms strong enough to wrestle a werewolf. The scars on his body didn’t take away from the beauty of his figure – if anything, they enhanced the sight of him; making him look like… well, what he was. A brutal, dangerous man – witcher – who could snap me in half, should he wish to. At the same time, his earnest face, and his lust-blown eyes; and the warmth I knew lived in his heart somewhere; made me trust this man with my life, my body – and, by Gods, my heart!

I looked down, my eyes resting on his length and – fuck! – girth. I knew I could take him. At least I knew I wanted to, with every inch of my being. Catching on to what I was thinking, he chuckled, seeming almost embarrassed. “If you want to sketch a picture of it, let me know later; but right now, I’d like to get you to bed”. I chuckled in response.

Witch a sudden movement, I was in his arms again, straddling his waist. He held on to me with one hand; strong enough to carry me like that. His other hand slid my hair behind my ear, so he could kiss my cheek. His hardness was standing at attention; sliding against my folds as I hung there, almost entering me in the process. I giggled at the feeling. “Amused, are we?”, he chided. I jerked my hips, rubbing myself against his tip; and he growled in response. “Impatient little frog”, he said gruffly.

He stepped out of the tub; and walked us to the bed, depositing me on it. Standing over me as I lay there – arms down my sides, knees slightly spread – he looked at me for what seemed like an eternity. I covered my breasts and privates with my arms and hands. “What was that about making a sketch?”, I teased. He grinned at me. “I’m just making a mental image”, he answered, before crawling over my body; and catching my lips with his.

His weight on me was enough to make me soar with desire again. I moaned when I felt his chest-hair tickle my nipples. “Inside!”, I breathed. He grunted. “Still hungry…”, he smirked; and moved down my body again.

“Fuck!”, I yelped, as his tongue met my clit again. He suckled at it, as if nectar would flow from it, if he just continued long enough. He slid his finger into me again, had another join it; and began crooking them; pressing them upwards rhythmically. It wasn’t a minute before my body began to spasm. My whole core burned with delicious fire; and I grasped at the sheets, and dug my fingers into the fabric.

His fingers continued rubbing against that most pleasurable spot inside me, and he made satisfied sounds; as if he was eating a delicious fruit. His fingers began to move faster, drawing me nearer and nearer to my undoing. I could feel my walls begin to clench around his fingers.

I looked down, and his eyes met mine for a second; before I shattered, and everything went white. I let out a long, mewling gasp; lifted my back from the bed – and then; what felt like a pop from inside; made my muscles give; and I fell back on the mattress.

I felt his fingers leave my warmth – one of them flicking against my nub, sending a small jolt through me from overstimulation. He laid next to me; brushing his fingers up and down my torso.

When I could finally open my eyes; is saw a grin plastered across his face. “You… full now?”, I asked, panting. “Not even close”, he growled playfully; and used his leg to spread mine, placing himself between them. His penis was pressed against my entrance. “Ready?”.

I simultaneously shook and nodded my head; unsure what I meant myself. He smiled at me kindly. “We don’t have to do this now”, he said. “It’s a long way to Vizima. We have all the time in the world”.

I felt a pang of something I couldn’t describe. Vizima. Temeria.

Have to take it!

I put both my hands on his bottom, and pushed with all my strength – taking him by surprise – and he slid into me with a roar.

“Move!”, I hissed, as he looked at me in wonder. He did as he was told. His hips began to grind against me; then he pulled back, and thrusted into me again; making me moan out loud from the sensation. He began to move continuously. “You’re still contracting”, he said between thrusts. “Inside”. “Whose fault is that?”, I moaned; and scratched my nails down his back; feeling every welt from every scar in the process.

We heard what sounded like a roster crowing from downstairs; and Geralt frowned. “When he grabbed your thigh, I wanted to rip his arm off!”, he growled; and slammed into me once; bottoming out. He roared like a wild beast; and I mewled in response.

Continuing his thrusts; I latched on to his lips; placing my hand firmly around the back of his neck, so he wouldn’t move his head. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, wrestling his for dominance. I grabbed a hold of his hair, and he returned in kind, making me hiss.

Another rooster crow; with a roar of laughter accompanying it; and the witcher once again slammed into me with a growl; making my stomach jolt from the depth of his thrust.

I pushed at his shoulder. “On top”, I panted; and kissed him passionately one last time, before he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. He lay with bended knees, making my ass meet his thighs; and I began riding him, leaning against his legs. He grabbed my breasts; massaging them in his hands. I grinned down at him as I moved, and bit my lip. “I want that lip!”, he said, and sat up; grabbing my face, and suckled at his target. I groaned, and pushed at his chest, making him fall back towards the mattress.

He was stronger than me; could have easily kept a hold of me if he wanted – but he enjoyed the game I was playing. I grinned at him again, grinded against his cock; and grasped his firm thigh behind me – doing my best to leave my mark on his skin.

His fingers found my nub again; and he rubbed his thumb against it – his other hand once again holding on to my right breast. He moved under me; trying to match my grinding against him. I was moving back and forth on him; feeling every delicious inch of him inside me. His thumbs continuous stroking of my clit, sent sparks through me, and before long I once again found my high; this time with him inside me. I frantically grinded against him, putting my hands on his chest to be able to lift myself up and down on him. My insides continued to spasm around him; and he groaned and moaned along with me – chasing his own goal. His face almost looked agonized from lust.

As I cried out from pleasure; he suddenly took a hold of my hips, and lifted me up – thrusting into me from bellow frantically. My hands still on his chest, I pushed myself upwards along with him; mewling every time his hips met my ass, and he thrusted back inside me. Overstimulation threatened to take a hold of me; but he kept going -growling, as he dug into my eyes with his own.

“Geralt!...”, I moaned. “I can’t…”. ”You can! Almost…”, he groaned; before hammering me down onto him one final time, and crying out. I felt him twitching inside me, and collapsed onto his chest.

I felt his fingers trace my spine. “You’re… something else”, he chuckled; the sound rumbling in his chest and into the ear I had pressed against it. I laughed, and turned my head to kiss his chest – nibbling at his nipple in the process. “I’m sure I am many things; but all I know is that right now, I am well and fucked”.

He laughed again, and pulled me up to his face for a kiss.

---

Thanks for reading.

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- no lady

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [1]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC  Rating: General  Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

A/N: Hooray for a new story! This story takes place sometime between DMC4 and DMC5. Thank you to @solynacea for reading and lending her OC for this fic. If you’re read Promise Me Forever you might recognize Lir, but she is completely different in this fic, so I hope you like it! I’ll be publishing about every week since I’m mostly finished. Your comments are always appreciated, and you can check this out on AO3 and FFNet too!

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Chapter 1: Be Careful What You Wish For

“Nero!” Dante’s voice echoes down the hallway as he peers through the rush of demons, swinging Rebellion as best as he is able as he scans for him. “You good?”

“Need help already?” The kid sounds nearby, but down a ways, and Dante snorts at the smart-aleck response. He bites back a response, remembering what it was like to be nineteen and feel invincible, to have power and stamina and enjoy the rush of killing demons.

It’s different now that he is older, the moves as familiar as breathing, the enemies mundane as paint drying. Meeting Nero and getting to know the kid, training him, especially with his suspicions all but confirmed, has breathed new life into the legendary devil hunter: but it’s still just a regular Friday night, clearing out another warehouse that houses another cell of demons for another client that’s just going to bitch about the holes left in the walls.

Dante continues pushing forward, slicing off arms and heads as he goes. There has to be a queen mother up ahead; no way this many slipped through a portal, these babies were bred. Maybe getting to the big bad will be interesting, and then he and Nero can stop before going into Fortuna to get a drink or six. Maybe he’ll even let Dante crash on the couch, now that he and Kyrie have set up in a house in town and have the room.

The drone of Red Queen suddenly cuts off, the lack of white noise catching his attention. “Nero?” he calls again, but this time instead of a snarky comment two shots ring out in response, followed by the entire building shaking as a roar goes up from inside. “Nero!” Dante shouts, slicing as he doubles his speed, actually trying now so he can find the kid and find out why the hell he needed his gun in such close quarters. Either he forgot one of Dante’s rules for demon hunting (“don’t shoot a gun in a tight space, dumbass”) or he’s in trouble.

Turns out it’s trouble—well, sort of. They are on the third floor, having been going methodically through each level to clear it out, and when Dante skids to a stop in the central part where the elevators are, he finds them gone. Instead, there is a huge hole where the elevators used to be, the concrete and iron in a heap below them where it had collapsed.

He looks up to see Nero on the other side of the giant hole, wiping his brow with his forearm. “You okay, kid?” Dante calls over.

“Yeah,” Nero shouts with a bit of a laugh. “I got them corralled but I guess the weight was too much. Just managed to jump out of the way.”

Dante shakes his head. “Stay there and I’ll come get you.”

“Nah, I got this. There’s gotta be a set of fire stairs at the end.” Nero points Red Queen towards the dark hallway behind him. “Let’s make sure that was the last of them. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighs as he watches Nero go, and then looks around at where the floor and elevators had broken from the supports and given way. No way the weight made this happen; you could probably park a semi in here and it would hold. The building is structurally sound, supposed to be anyway, and it would take more than a few dozen demons to knock a hole in it. No, something made the floor collapse, and his gaze goes upwards, wondering where the queen bee could be hiding.

Dante doubles back and finds his staircase, taking the steps two at a time upwards. The hallways are eerily empty after the deluge in the bottom floors, and he stalks carefully through, checking each office. The damn place has a thousand places to hide, so there is no telling where the big bad could be.

On the top floor, lucky number seven, he hits the jackpot. The second he steps out from the stairwell Ebony and Ivory are drawn as he picks his way through the nest that covers the walls and floor and even ceiling. The emergency lights give a weird glow to everything, but his demon eyes can see clearly in the dim light as he listens carefully for movement.

He finds the demon in the corner office, thinking it has good taste and laughing at his own joke. At first he doesn’t see the queen, but a shift in the air catches his eye and he fires both guns into the dark, smiling at the sound of bullets making their impact.

With a wail it emerges from the shadow, clutching its chest. “What did you do that for?” the demon yells.

“Eviction notice, numbnuts,” he says. “Time to head back to wherever the fuck you came from.”

“I can’t,” the demon argues. “I have my eggs to hatch, my babies to look after—”

“Babies?” Dante chuckles, scratching his head as he places his other hand on his hip. “Sorry, I think I killed all of ‘em.”

The demon snarls. But instead of threatening him, Dante is surprised when it asks, “What do you want?”

“What?” he blinks.

“What do you want? To leave me alone?”

Dante huffs. “Don’t work like that, sweetheart.”

The demon moves closer and he aims his guns again. It starts to unfold itself from its spot, and Dante’s eyebrows go up to see it’s probably almost seventeen feet tall, completely squished into the office. “My name is Veguaniel,” it says. “I am the demon of fortune.”

“Good for you.”

“How much do you want?” the demon asks. “How much are you being paid to kill me? I can double it. Triple it even.”

“Are you serious?” he groans. “I don’t do this for the money.”

The demon looks him up and down. “That’s obvious.”

“Watch it.” He points the guns at its head, and the demon shrinks back a bit.

“I want to pay you! I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! You’d never have to slaughter the innocents like me again!” Dante snorts as it tilts its head. “You can’t possibly like doing this.”

He cocks the hammer on each gun. “Not about liking it. About paying the bills.”

The demon gives an annoyed huff. “This is what I’m saying. I can make you rich. I can buy you whatever you want. There’s got to be something you’d rather be doing than this. Would you like a mansion? A yacht? How about a palace?”

Dante chuckles to himself, but admits it’s almost tempting. Suppose this demon has some fortune granting power? He tries to think of himself as some fancy millionaire and fails. To be honest, all he would really want is a nice house and a nicer bike. Maybe work on engines, build things? Meet a pretty girl with a sharp wit and killer smile and settle down, like Nero and Kyrie have.

“This is stupid,” he says. “Not gonna happen.”

“So why do you do it?” it asks. “There must be something a god of fortune can give you for one tiny, little favor.”

Dante growls under his breath, his patience out. “I’m a devil hunter because I’ve been hunted by demons my whole life,” he snaps. “Ever since you fuckers came down on my house when I was a kid, killed my family, and then made my life miserable. Getting paid is just a bonus.”

“Hmmm.” A tentacle slithers out and taps on the demon’s cheek, as if it is thinking. “Did that make you sad?”

“What?”

“Did losing your family and all that make you sad?”

“What the hell? Of course it did!” Dante snaps. “But I don’t see why—”

“So you wouldn’t be a demon hunter if they hadn’t died, is that it?” The demon’s voice trails off, and Dante frowns. “I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money. Would you like your family back?”

He grits his teeth, anger starting to bubble. “Shut the hell up.”

The demon bares its teeth in a grotesque smile. “Done.”

The floor gives way, and Dante shouts as he falls, firing upwards. He gets a glance of the demon waving to him just moments before he lands headfirst on the concrete and the world goes black.

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The squeak of the shower turning on wakes him. Dante opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, pain piercing his temples like an ice pick to the brain. “Damn it,” he sighs, reaching up to rub his forehead.

The ceiling is white, not the faded yellow of his place, so he figures he must be at Nero’s. Damn, did the kid have to find him and save his ass? He’ll never live this down, and as he stretches his stiff limbs he sighs and closes his eyes again.

He remembers the warehouse and the demons, and Nero getting separated. Then he had found the head at the top of the building and it had… asked him about his family? Dante frowns, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. Demons are getting fucking weirder by the day.

He enjoys the few minutes of quiet until the shower turns off. Dante sighs, moving to roll over and sit up. Either Nero or Kyrie are in there, so he figures he’ll go downstairs and give them privacy, but when he sits up he notices two things. First, he’s in just his boxers, which is weird because that means Nero undressed him. Also, he doesn’t own boxers, preferring to let his junk ride free, knowing the ladies liked how it looked in tight denim.

Second, their bedroom is way different than it was. He’s been there a few times but he helped Nero paint the house and their bedroom was definitely green. Dante remembers this because Nero had bitched about the color to him because he couldn’t to Kyrie. But the bedroom is now a soft shade of blue, and he wonders if the kid finally confessed that the color sage reminded him of puke.

The door to the bathroom opens and a woman walks out wrapped in a towel. He blinks when it’s immediately obvious it is not Kyrie: this one is shorter, slimmer, her platinum hair almost white like his and falling in a trendy bob style at her shoulders. The woman takes no notice of him, moving to a set of drawers and opening the top one.

“Uh, excuse me?” Dante says.

The woman looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Who are you?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Har har, very funny.” She goes back to pulling out clothes and says, “I know I said I’d never work on a Saturday, but Jenny’s kid is sick and I didn’t have the heart to make her come in. But I promise it’s only a half shift, and I’ll be home by two.”

That doesn’t answer his question at all, but before he can point that out she drops the towel. Dante spins quickly, his heart pounding as he yanks the sheet up over his lap, hissing, “What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m covering for Jenny. It’ll be easy enough for a Saturday. It’s a nice day out, nobody goes to the library when it’s sunny.” Dante peeks over to see her thankfully wearing a bra and panties, which he stares at for a moment before remembering he shouldn’t be staring. He looks down at his own lack of clothes and frowns, wondering if it’s her house he slept in. Does that mean they had sex? Maybe he and Nero made it to the bar after all and he got lucky?

Not bad, he thinks as he looks back to where she is shimmying on a pair of jeans. She’s cute enough at least, gorgeous even, although he wishes he could remember her name. “Hey, uh—”

“Don’t forget to be ready by five,” she says, rolling on deodorant. Then she glances over at him and frowns. “You okay?”

“No. Yes. Sorry, five?”

Dante frowns and she laughs. “Yes. Reservations are at five-thirty and you know if we’re a minute late your brother will start complaining.”

That gets his attention, and Dante feels the blood drain from his face. “My… brother?”

“Yes. It’s your parents’ anniversary. Remember?” Dressed now, she runs a brush through her hair as she sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t forget. This has been planned for weeks.”

Dante jumps up and stalks towards her, pulling the brush from her hand and grabbing her elbow to turn her. She only comes up to about his shoulders, and his expression goes menacing as he glares down at her surprised one. “What do you know about my parents?”

“Dante, what in the world? What is wrong with you?” The concern in her voice tempers him a bit, and she pulls her arm away to press a palm to his cheek. She examines his eyes closely as she asks, “Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something? You look strange.”

“I…” I fell, he wants to say, but she brushes his jaw gently. “Why don’t you take it easy today? You’ll have the whole house to yourself. Get some coffee and just relax, and when I get home we’ll see how you feel, okay?”

Did losing your family and all that make you sad? Where did that come from? “What about my parents?” he asks again harshly.

She takes a steady breath. “It’s the thirteenth. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary. We’re all going out to dinner to celebrate.” Then she rubs his arm gently, and it’s then that he notices the band on her ring finger. His eyes go wide, and startled, he looks at his own left hand, where a matching gold band sits on his fourth finger.

His blood is pounding in his ears so loudly he barely hears her goodbye. “Just stay home and relax,” she says, and when she reaches up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek it pulls Dante back to the present.

He watches her walk through the room and grab her purse just as she reaches the door. Then he is left blinking as the door shuts, the sound of his raging heartbeat still thundering in his ears.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Blood Ties

The 6th chapter of Born Into the Wilds. Here the link to AO3.

List of words used:

Galahkar = person pf Galahd rabhithisaikna = sign of remembrance and resentment, a warning; mentioned in chapter 4 ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun) iskaral = the tale; along the lines of an untrue story, mostly used for fairytales but also made up stories in general si = my pehwa = term of endearment for a woman; lit.: the fire

 Nyx found himself within King Regis' private study again faster than he would have liked. In fact, he would have preferred to never step foot into it again. Being more or less prepared for it this time didn't make him feel any less on edge.

 The Conqueror King stared down at him as if he knew exactly who and what he was, and wanted to cut him down for it. His Blood Axe was something no Galahkar wanted to see in their lives. Nyx' fingers curled into rabhithisaikna again.

 This time it wasn't only King Regis and the General there, but also Shield Amicitia. The Shield looked like he bit into something sour as he stood by the King's left shoulder, who sat behind the heavy wooden desk again. General Leonis stood a bit off to the right, his arms crossed, but his eyes were as alert as ever. Nyx wanted to pace, mark the line that the other three occupants of this room should not dare cross. Instead he forced himself to bow.

The King looked at him, his face still guarded but also strangely open in a way he had never seen. It made him want to hiss and leave the room before he did something stupid.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield, General,” he said in greeting and settled into parade rest.

“Good evening, Sir Ulric. Thank you again for taking the time to settle the matter. Take a seat, then we may look at the results,” said the King and motioned again at the chair to Nyx' right.

“Of course, your Majesty.”

He nodded his thanks and sat down again, the palms of his hands carefully pressed against the wooden armrests. Hopefully he wouldn't leave any marks on the obviously very old, and very expensive piece of furniture. Since he had arrived at the citadel again, his magic had been restless, sparking between his fingertips and warping his field of vision until he felt oddly off balance. Yet again, he was made aware that he seriously needed to work at his control. He was just waiting until he blew up something important, like his phone or his fridge or something.

The King picked up the crisp envelope sitting on the desk in front of him, and opened it with great care. It contained only one sheet of paper. As the King unfolded it, Nyx felt his magic spark again and hid a wince. He felt the spark digging through the wood. That was not good. Not good at all.

With baited breath, and his heart hammering away in his chest like it could run away from this bizarre situation, he watched as King Regis read the sheet of paper and his face became a careful mask of absolute neutrality. Any warmth that may have been there, vanished. Without a word he sat the paper down and pushed it over the desk until Nyx could grab it without standing up. As he leant forward he got a glance at the multiple picture frames cluttering the desk. Most of the ones he could see showed either the prince or a beautiful woman with startling blue eyes and dark brown hair. The late queen.

Nyx didn't even try to bother with the technical terms jumping out at him as his eyes devoured the few lines cleanly printed on the paper until he came to the part he had been looking for.

No relation.

No relation.

Thank ahtrii.

Carefully not sagging as relief flooded his system like a tidal wave, he folded the sheet back up again and laid it down on the part of the desk he could reach. A part of him, that he hadn't realized had been quite so restless, finally settled down along with his magic. There was no threat to his blood here, to his integrity as a Galahkar and head of the Ulric Clan.

“I take it was negative,” said General Leonis, more a statement than a question.

King Regis gave the barest hint of a nod. “Yes. Yes it was.”

For the fraction of a second Shield Amicitia's face gained an expression similar to one Libertus often sported. It was the face his hunting brother gained when he knew he was right about something that Nyx didn't want to hear. His eyes settled on the King again, who, despite the wall of neutrality he had erected around him, looked like he had aged years within seconds.

Now Nyx understood what that openness on the King's face had been. Hope. Resolutely he pushed the first signs of growing sympathy away and as far down as he could manage.

“Then we must decide what needs to be done now,” said Shield Amicitia, brisk and business-like as always.

What was there to be done? As far as Nyx was concerned this farce was over and done with, he would really like to go home now and forget this ever happened. He bit down on his tongue to not blurt any of this out loud in present company.

King Regis gave a little hum as he leaned slightly back in his chair. “The origin of your magic is still an unanswered question, Sir Ulric. As is your relation to other important individuals, though I admit that it is rather more unlikely than the potential connection to my line.”

Nyx wanted to bang his head against the nearest hard surface. Ahtrii. He had to remind himself that there hadn't been a direct question in that statement and so he wasn't bound to answer. No, he wasn't. He dearly wanted to point out that the world didn't revolve around the Lucian way.

He could practically taste the sudden cold formality in those words as well. Nyx felt his fingers twitch against the armrests. Was the King really that disappointed in their lack of blood relation? His gaze wandered back towards the picture frames on the desk. Family was something the man clearly treasured. That was something Nyx could respect about the King. Painted light brown eyes practically burned into him and every shred of growing sympathy was yet again thrown out the window.

“I think we can continue this another time, your Majesty. Sir Ulric's squad won't be on active duty outside the wall for two weeks yet. Let the tempers cool down so that we can make a rational decision on this matter.”

Nyx had felt the General's gaze lingering on him for most of the meeting, but now his gaze was firmly set on the King. If Nyx didn't know better, he would say it looked like a warning. When had the air in the room become this charged?

At once he felt his hackles rise and his lips twitch at the urge to bare his teeth in warning. A voice in the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Luche during one of his snooty moods, told him that it was a pretty bad idea to directly threaten the King of the nation who had taken them in as refugees and he owed a life-debt to.

For the fraction of a second the King looked like he wanted to argue. He sighed, strangely defeated. “You are certainly right, Cor. Sir Ulric, I apologize for this misunderstanding. It was not my intention. Also please be ready for another summon during the next few days.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” nodded Nyx and stood up, taking this as a dismissal.

“One more thing: No word of this to anyone. We do not want the wrong people to hear of this.”

Nyx bowed. “Of course, your Majesty,” he repeated.

Finally, finally he was able to leave this awful room behind. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the tension in his body relax a fraction. Now back to his apartment to see if any of his alcohol had survived the last 'hooray we're still alive' party. He could really use a drink right about now.

____________________________________________________________

The first sensation Nyx woke to the following morning – at last he assumed it to be the following morning – was an insistent throbbing in his skull. He grimaced at the stale taste in his mouth and the fuzzy feeling his tongue gave off and forced his eyes to open. It didn't make his headache any better.

Fuck, I didn't even drink that much.

The throbbing in his skull grew worse until he realized that part of it came from an insistent banging against his door. With a hoarse groan – ahtrii his throat was parched – Nyx peeled himself out of his bed.

“Damn it, Nyx! Open that door, you hero, I know you're there!”

Said hero stared blankly at his closed door. By all the spots of the Lady, what did Libertus want from him at – he glanced at his alarm clock – 6:30 in the morning? He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave again. Fuck. Barely awake for a minute and already Nyx could feel this day go down the drain.

Twisting the handle and kicking the edge of the door so that it wouldn't drag over his already ratty nylon floor, he pulled it open and came face to face with a wild eyed hunting brother who stormed into his apartment without another word.

“Took you long enough. Kohna, have you any idea what's going on out there? It's a madhouse. A fucking madhouse. What the fuck happened yesterday after you left?”

Nyx let Libertus ramble for a moment and shuffled over to the sink to get a glass of water. His headache receded a bit and made it possible for him to hear his own thoughts again.

“Fuck, man. Did you even hear a word I just said?”

“I practically fell out of bed a minute ago because you hammered at my door like a hunted man, big guy. I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Nyx, decidedly unimpressed by this whole situation.

“Right... right,” muttered Libertus and dragged a hand through his hair. The heavyset man practically flung himself into a chair. “Did you drink last night?” he asked incredulously, the without me practically filling the silence between them.

Nyx finished his second glass of water before he progressed to the ancient coffee machine sitting on his counter, pulling up an extra cup for his unexpected guest. As the hot water gurgled he stared unimpressed at Libertus, who made a face. They fell into an easy silence until two cups full of coffee were set down on the rickety table.

“So, care to tell me now what happened this early in the morning, on a free day no less? You look like a chickatrice got a few pecks out of you.”

He hid his grin behind his cup as Libertus glared at him.

“Yeah, laugh it up. You wouldn't look any better if this had happened to you. I walk out of the house this morning to get some more yoghurt and as soon as I step out on the walkway I get swarmed by reporters asking questions about you. I ask again: What happened yesterday evening?”

Like an anak calf caught in the headlights, Nyx froze, his cup halfway towards his mouth, and stared.

“What the fuck?”

“My words exactly! Now tell me.”

“No, seriously. What the fuck? The King forbid anyone who knew anything from talking. No one should know, especially the press!” Nyx groaned pathetically and buried his head in his hands. “I hope he doesn't think I blabbed.”

“Okay, so no telling. What are you going to do now?” asked Libertus.

“Now I'm going over to Pelna's. If anyone can find out what the press knows, it's him,” answered Nyx, jugged the rest of his coffee and stood up.

Pelna was one of the few people in this apartment complex with a working internet connection and a computer that didn't look like it would fall to pieces the moment you touched it. He felt his hunting brother's eyes on him as he made his way to the door.

“Maybe you should, you know, actually get dressed before you head over. Wouldn't want to give Pelna a heart attack because you flashed his nieces or something.”

Nyx stopped, his hand on the door handle and looked down at himself. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy old sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. Cursing under his breath he turned around to pull on a threadbare t-shirt and look for a pair of jeans to wear. He threw a sock at his best friend's head when he didn't stop sniggering. That idiot.

Not waiting for Libertus, and still barefoot, he walked out the door towards an apartment two floors down. He could hear Libertus' hurried steps behind him, cursing all the way. Nyx couldn't help the grin growing on his face.

The door to Pelna's apartment opened before they could even knock. Out spilt his two nieces, Ker and Dione, and his son, Moireus. All three of them ready to go to school and kindergarten, as was the case with Moireus.

“Morning, kids,” greeted Nyx and lifted a hand to his collarbone, his palm parallel to the ground. Next to him Libertus did the same.

Ker, the oldest of the group at sixteen, saw them first. Her cheeks grew a dusty red as she returned the greeting.

“Nyx!” yelled Moireus, who ran past his elder cousin, and tackled him in a hug.

“Hey, buhgil. On your way to school I see,” laughed Nyx and tousled the boy's curly black hair.

The five year old nodded with a bright smile and proceeded to hug Libertus, who gave an amused huff and threw the boy over his shoulder like a sack of wool, teasing a shrieking laugh out of him.

“Ah Nyx, I thought I heard your name. Morning Libertus. What's got you two here this early in the morning?”

Pelna appeared in the doorway behind the children. He looked way more awake than Nyx knew he himself did.

“Morning Pelna. There's a group of reporters out in front of the house. You kids should take the way through the washing room,” said Libertus and sat Moireus back down on his feet.

“Thanks for the warning,” said Dione. “Come on, we're going to be late and I don't want to give my teacher another reason to give me detention.”

The three gave their goodbyes.

Pelna let them into his apartment. It was easily twice as large as Nyx's, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and everything else crammed into the last one, but still too small to comfortably fit five people.

“You guys already ate breakfast?”

“Got derailed by crazy journalists.” / “Libs threw me out of bed twenty minutes ago.”

“Right,” drawled Pelna and proceeded to throw together a meal made of thick slices of cold breakfast meat with eggs and yoghurt with fruit and nuts while the tea got ready. Nyx' stomach rumbled loudly. He had barely eaten anything yesterday evening, having been too nervous to stomach much.

“Where's Tethys?” he asked before shovelling a slice of meat into his mouth.

It was anak meat instead of garula, but still good.

“Still down by the docks. Depending on how much fish they caught it might still be a while until she comes home.”

“I wanted to ask her for some sea bass for the next big dinner. I can trust her to have good quality fish instead of the crap others try to sell you as safe to consume,” said Libertus, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“Tethys is scheduled to go out again tomorrow, so you could ask her then,” suggested Pelna.

Libertus grunted in acceptance. He regularly asked Tethys for good quality fish at a reasonable price for his regular cooking projects Nyx, Crowe and Pelna's family always got invited to. It was always an event and Nyx couldn't wait for the next one.

They finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence. After they finished washing the dishes they sat down with fresh cups of tea. Nyx felt satisfied and sleepy, like he could curl up in the patch of morning sunlight hitting the chair he sat in and fall asleep. A near silent purr rumbled in his chest. He ignored the glances the other two men shot him and took a sip of the tea. Thankfully it wasn't bitter-leaf, but something floral that also smelt strongly like mint. It helped chasing the last vestiges of his hangover away.

“So, not that I mind the surprise visit, but why did you really come over?”

The question startled him back into the present. The tranquil sensation his magic gave off didn't vanish. It felt like a satisfied cat ready to take a nap. Nyx blinked. That was new. Another sip of tea made him miss Crowe's honey even more than he usually did. Libertus looked at him when he didn't answer and rolled his eyes.

“We need to use your computer. Those reporters down there were asking questions about Nyx and his audiences with the King. Apparently they're not even supposed to know that. We need to find out what they actually do know and how,” grumbled Libertus.

“That doesn't sound good. Wait a moment, I'm going to fetch the laptop.”

Pelna stood up and went over to the desk, covered in pencils, schoolbooks and colouring books and pulled a slightly beaten up laptop out from under a pile of loose paper. It was a slightly older model that he mostly used for non-sensitive work when he needed to be at home during work hours. One of the few concessions he had managed to wrangle out of the government concerning his situation. It was relatively quiet for the next few minutes as Pelna searched the far reaching depths of the moogle network.

Suddenly, the man winced and hissed in sympathy. “Well, that's not good.”

At once Nyx stood behind Pelna so that he could read over his shoulder, Libertus right next to him. The site displayed was from a moderately popular gossip rag that liked to specialize in conspiracy theories. There, on their front page, in bold letters, a headline stared up at Nyx that made him want to kill something.

New member of the royal family?!

King Regis ordered paternity test for Glaive Nyx Ulric!

“That's one big pile of shit,” stated Libertus.

“That it's 'one big pile of shit' doesn't make it any better,” hissed Nyx, his hackles rising and magic coming to the surface. Lighting sparked between his fingers and his vision shifted until it looked like the contrast setting had been turned too bright when he looked directly into a light source.

“Wow, wow, calm down hero. No blowing up the computer. Pelna still needs it for more than selling scrap metal,” said Libertus, herding him back to his chair.

Nyx took a series of deep breaths as he took in the scents of his hunting brother and pack mate near him. They seemed more concerned about him than worried about the untrue words. It helped him calm down enough that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Like frying that shitty piece of technology.

“They don't seem to know much more than that you were ordered to do a blood test to see if you're related to the King, Nyx,” said Pelna, having skimmed the article. “There's no word about what came of it or why exactly it was ordered in the first place. Also, the only papers actually writing about this are the gossip rags, and not even the good ones.”

“Since when are there good ones?” asked Libertus, incredulous.

Nyx snorted in amusement.

“Tethys likes reading For You,” Pelna said, clearly embarrassed.

A disbelieving hum rumbled through Libertus' chest as he shared an amused glance with Nyx. Pelna glared at them, disgruntled, but in good humour.

“Anyway,” he said and turned back towards the laptop, “it's not as bad as it could have been. Some of the articles are pretty amusing. One is accusing Nyx of stealing magic and so blaming the King's bad health on him and another is trying to dig up the King's secret love affair that clearly spawned you. There's even one accusing you of being a Nif spy planted to gain the crown's trust, Nyx.”

That statement startled a laugh out of him while his hunting brother nearly snorted his tea out through his nose.

“And people believe that crap? Those are clearly iskarali.”

As an answer, Pelna shrugged. “You're my friend, Nyx, but I'm not wading through the comment sections for you. There's only a certain level of stupidity I can stand in a day.”

“We love you, too,” grinned Nyx and clapped the dark skinned man on the shoulder. “Do they say where they got their information from?”

Pelna blinked, glanced back at the screen and shook his head. “Some of them a citing an 'anonymous source' but nothing more. With how they're telling it, I think it was the source that came to them and not the other way around.”

Nyx wasn't quite sure if that was reassuring or not.

His phone started ringing. He closed his eyes and dearly hoped it wasn't Captain Drautos, or worse, General Leonis. As it turned out it wasn't either of them and for some reason that only made this worse.

“Ulric speaking.”

The sudden switch from Hadnissa to Lucian felt as awkward on his tongue like it always did.

“Good morning, Sir Ulric. This is Mendaci Auris from The Flash. We are a newspaper specializing in all things social and I was hoping-”

He had pushed the button to end the call before he even realized he was doing it. Libertus and Pelna were watching him as he practically threw the phone on the table with a well placed curse. It was an old phone from a time when touchscreens hadn't been invented yet.

“The press?” asked Pelna with a knowing tilt to his head.

Nyx just glared at him. How had they even gotten their hands on his number? He somehow doubted that a member of the community had simply handed it over. The image about a reporter asking Titus of all people for his phone number was hilarious enough to make him grin despite the situation.

“Not to blunt anybody’s blades or anything, but how are we going to deal with the crowd outside the house? I can't imagine that the others will be very happy about this,” said Libertus.

Both of them looked at Pelna who held his hands up in not quite surrender. “Hey, don't look at me. I have no clue how to deal with something like this.”

“But you're the communications specialist,” whined Libertus.

Before anyone of them could answer that the entry door opened and Tethys walked in accompanied by Luche and Axis. All three of them looked as if they were put through the wringer.

“Pelna, do you know why there's a horde of reporters outside the house that is asking after Nyx? Oh, hello Libertus, Nyx. Do any of you know what's going on? I warned the residents I met on the way not to use the front entrance, but it's only a matter of time until those people find the backdoor.”

Tethys' voice was unusually low and held the hint of a warning. She was a small and muscular woman with even darker skin than Pelna's, which was only partly due to her spending large portions of the day outside.

“Welcome back, si pehwa. How was work?” asked Pelna with a smile.

Tethys gave him a look.

“Why does everybody think I'm an expert in this?” he moaned and threw his hands up in exasperation.

Nyx leaned back in his chair and groaned.

Was it still too early to have a drink?

[lankylevi]

A Rather Pleasant Surprise

A christmas special where Eren comes home from work and finds Levi standing in the kitchen with nothing but Christmas stockings on.

Listen to this song before or while reading it.

Read on AO3 or under the cut (but please leave some love on AO3 too)

Jaw dropping, eyes widening and cock hardening, Eren watches his boyfriend sensually dance in the kitchen with nothing but Christmas stockings on.

Mesmerized by the way the thigh-highs hug Levi’s legs so perfectly as he swings his hips in a way that should be fucking illegal, the brunette can’t do anything but stand by the doorframe and enjoy every second of the show.

Watching how Levi’s calves flex under the fabric as he stands on his toes, trying to reach what looks like a backing mold, Eren swears to himself that he’s going to keep quiet as long as his self-restraint allows him to.

Levi on the other hand seems to be enjoying himself very much. Swiftly pouring the mixture into the rectangular shape as he keeps on moving his hips along with the basses of the song, not aware that every motion his body makes is being drunk up by emerald eyes. Feeding on the way his buff boyfriend’s muscles tense and relax with every single movement.

Setting a step back so he is out of the raven’s sight; Eren bites his lip to the point where his skin almost breaks when he sees his boyfriend turn around, mouthing the words with lips covered in red.

“I wanna feel you, I want it all.” He sings along with the music that is playing in the background, the words rolling off his tongue and past those delicious red lips that Eren quickly wants to set to work.

The song continues, vaguely drumming in Eren’s ears as he can’t take his eyes off the raven. Way too busy stifling back a moan as he gropes the bulge that has formed in his pants from the sight of Levi’s hardened cock, standing proud between his legs while he sensually licks the batter off of his fingers. Sucking on them and swirling his tongue around it as if he is putting on a show. And as soon as that thought crossed the brunette’s mind; the mood in the air changes instantly in tune with the vibe of the song.

Levi’s eyes shoot up, meeting Eren’s as he starts mouthing the words: “Baby I wanna touch you…” Exiting his finger from his mouth, dragging it along his bottom lip towards his jaw, smearing the lipstick over his chin while not losing eye-contact. And Eren is almost certain he sees something flicker inside of those piercing eyes that are blown wide with desire and leave nothing but a small ring of silver to stare back into.

Swallowing the lump down his throat, Eren’s legs start working on their own. Walking straight into the living room, but stopping as soon as the raven raises a finger while shaking his head and a sinful smirk curls on his lips “See, I gotta hunt you,”

Swinging his hips as he makes his way closer to his boyfriend in need, making sure to run his hands over his sides as he licks his lips. Being fully aware that he is driving Eren insane with the thigh-highs and lipstick... just like he had planned.

Closing the distance between them and running a finger over Eren’s shirt, Levi knows he is going to surprise him by doing the following.

Eren sees Levi dropping onto his knees, not wasting a single second to tease his lover as he skillfully unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants.“Baby I wanna fuck you…” Kissing the tip of his erected cock, ensuring that he is leaving some colour on it. “I wanna feel you in my bones… boy, I’m gonna love you,”

With that Eren sees Levi parting his lips, giving him one last glance before he takes the first few inches inside his deliciously warm mouth.

Maybe it is the song, maybe the thigh-highs, or maybe it is Levi, but Eren has never felt so hot and needy in his entire life. Especially when he notices the way the raven bops his head back and forth, leaving red prints all over his cock, looking like he cannot get enough while he hungrily sucks and swallows around him.

Yanking at the black hair to get his attention, Eren gives him that look when their eyes meet. The look that Levi loves more than anything, a look that says “I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I’m spilling inside of you and you cum from the mere feeling of it.”

A whine leaves the raven’s throat, not giving a single fuck in the world that he is so desperately starving for Eren’s cum. The vibration sending shivers down Eren’s spine, but it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. Not when he bucks his hips forward, forcing more of himself inside Levi’s mouth and almost hitting the back of his throat.

“A-ah… Levi,” the brunette groans, sliding in and out of Levi’s swollen parted lips.

Rocking his hips back and forth before forcing himself out of that wet heat to smear more lipstick onto his dick and Levi’s face; Eren is losing it as much, if not more than Levi.

Feeling a strong grip on his buttocks while the same sinful look appears in the raven’s eyes again, Eren cannot do anything except holding on for dear life as he waits for what is about to come.

He gets pulled back into Levi’s mouth, cock halting at the end of his throat, making tears dwell up in the corners of Levi’s eyes that speak nothing but lust and determination. Eren sees him adjusting the angle of his face, slacking his jaw and taking one last deep breath through his nose before he dives in. Moving forward until his nose is buried against Eren’s groin which makes the latter almost lose his balance.

“I see you’ve been practicing, that vibrator of yours has been put to good use.” His voice sounding way calmer than he is actually feeling and his skin burning from the sensation of Levi swallowing him whole. “Tell me did you first fuck your throat before you fucked your ass with it?” He says devilishly, gripping the back of the raven’s head and keeping him in place as he looks him straight into the eye “Did you Levi?”

He can see how hard he is trying to move his head, but that is not an easy task while your mouth and throat are stuffed with cock.

Eren simply smirks at him, loosening his grip around his head so Levi is able to exit him from his mouth.

Levi licks his lips, tasting whatever is left of the lipstick that is now smeared all over his face, alongside the aftertaste of Eren’s deliciously hot cock in his mouth. “Yes, wanted to make sure your Christmas present was all ready for you.”

“Seems like you planned this out, what else do you have in mind for tonight?”

“Many things, but first I wanna taste you. I want you to make a mess of me.”

“Oh Levi, you’re gonna regret saying that if you’re even able to speak again at all.” With that Eren slides back between Levi’s lips, instantly forcing himself down his throat again. Not moving his hips, but using Levi’s face to literally face-fuck the hell out of him.

He sees Levi squirm underneath him, trying so hopelessly not to gag around the length that lays heavy on his tongue and so easily moves in and out of his mouth.

“Fuck yourself Levi.” Eren orders the raven and immediately sees confusion strike on the latter’s face.

“Use your fingers to abuse that hole of yours while you pump your dick, it must be crying for some love doesn’t it?”

Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. In less than a second one hand is on his straining cock while the other one has picked up some drool that was hanging out of his mouth and is now teasing his entrance.

“Good boy, now push one knuckle inside of you.” And Levi does just that. Wincing at the sudden intrusion but soon fucking himself open with his fingers while his mouth and throat are being abused to the point where he doesn’t know what to feel. Does he want to feel his hole being spread, or are it the fast strokes on his cock that are doing it for him? But he already knows the answer to that question.

It is Eren fucking the life out him that makes him lose it every single time, over and over again.

“G-gonna cum baby.” Eren breathes, grunting as he starts bucking his hips even though he’s still using Levi’s face for his own pleasure. The latter not knowing if that was a question or a statement, but he doesn’t care. Not even a little when he feels the muscles in his abdomen clench, warning him for the fast approaching release that he needs so badly from his throat being fucked raw.

“Gonna cu-ah!” Eren gasps, and the way Levi sees the brunette come undone above him, is all it takes for him to finish his own release; cum bursting on his abs as he feels his throat being painted white.

Riding out their orgasms; Eren leaving that task to Levi who moves his head back and forth to milk every last drop of cum out of his boyfriend’s cock while lazily stroking his own, they finally get their breathing back under control.

Coming down from their high, Eren makes sure to help Levi getting up from his kneeling position and hoists him upwards while giving a good squeeze into his covered thighs.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“Continuing this in the bedroom.”

“Don’t forget the cake though.” Levi adds with a playful smile before his eyes dart to the timer on the oven. “35 minutes, better fuck me good in that time.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You have made it to the end of the drabble hooray! I hope you enjoyed it but before you go, please fill in this poll for me. It’s about my ‘writing style’. It would really help me out and I swear it only takes 10 seconds.

This is also a late birthday and an early Christmas present for @hey-heichou-suz <3

[t3clis]

KDM 1.5 Campaign - Part 4

Settlement Phase

Our four bold survivors make it back to Monte Luce, Settlement is set up.

Four returning survivors make for four Endeavors.

Timeline gets updated, as we enter officially Lantern Year 2.

In this amicable scenario, our heroes decide to make a small sporting competition: it’s Triathlon of Death time! Luckily, we have only two players, so we get to nominate only two survivors - this means that only good stuff happens, and there is no third or fourth place. Exploiting the shit out of this, I nominate Dario and Alfio, and:

Alfio wins the running competitions and gets 2nd place to the debate and the fighting competition, netting him +1 Movement, +1 Understanding and +1 Strength.

Dario wins the debate and the fighting competition, getting 2nd place to the race. So, +1 Courage, 1 Skull basic resource, +1 weapon proficiency.

Now that the cheesiest of all competitions is over, let’s proceed to Story Events.

First thing to trigger is Endless Screams event. A scream erupts throughout the settlement, and everyone loses their collective shit. Cinzia, our brave matriarch who invented Language, is appointed to be the Voice of Reason. So, she goes to face the Screaming (+1 Courage), but she gets scared shitless (rolled 1) and makes a run for it, tripping face-first in stone. So, -1 Courage and Shattered Jaw. How fitting. Well done, Cinzia. You embarassed yourself. Now go make the settlement a sandwich. The settlement can now hunt the Screaming Antelope.

After that, is time for some sweet sweet Gorm Lovin’ - Gorm Climate - roll of 6, no Hovel: Insanity of returning survivors is set to 0, they must skip next hunt. Rough, but actually a good result.

Finally, we have to update the Death Count. This is not exactly clear, because the dearly missed Furio “counted as dead��, but we had to eventually “not apply Cannibalize Principle”. Since I rationalized that “count as dead” is enough to update the Death Count, we finally triggered the Principle: Death milestone. We chose Graves: bury the dead is somewhat better than smearing their feces all over you to not appear menacing to a White Lion.

So, Alfio (2nd in debate contest) gets to deliver an half-assed speech to commemorate whats-his-name-again, and as a result departing survivors will get +1 Survival next year. Hooray. Even in death, Furio manages to be mediocre.

During the funeral (well, without the body), one survivor, Ignazio, made a big clamor: he was a friend of Furio’s since forever, and he sweared he would have avenged him, thus honoring his memory. Oh well, we’ll see how this goes.

Now, let’s chronicle the steady march of progress in Monte Luce:

The Settlement innovates, drawing Ammonia and Drums. We chose initially to pick Ammonia (the most sensible choice), but before choosing to depart we retconned the decision: we want to get to Song of the Brave ASAP and we really think that the Gorm should give us Ammonia for free, so we chose Drums! High risks, high rewards!

From specific Lion resources, the settlement crafts a King’s Spear, a Claw Head Arrow, a Cat Gut Bow and a Cat’s Eye Circlet. This is the most important part, because this means that we are done with the White Lion, for now.

With 4 Monster Hide resources and a ???, we craft another full Rawhide set. Less important, but extremely useful: except the occasional bandage, we are also done with the Skinnery.

With three endeavors, the Settlement nominates Alfio for Augury, in the attempt to get Intimacy and the chance to choose a New Life Principle. Roll is 1, 2, 7, so Alfio burns through the remaining Lion Claw and Broken Lantern to get +2 Understanding and a Settlement Phase Insight: Alfio becomes a Tinker, and the roll of 8 gets him +1 Accuracy.

With the Settlement Storage now depleted and having no eminently urgent stuff to hunt from the White Lion, the Settlement now decides what to hunt this Lantern Year: a Level 1 Gorm.

Departing survivors are chosen:

First one is Cinzia, who is done contemplating and she’s (comprensibly) a bit upset of the meager show she put up during Endless Screams, so she’s eager to shove some King Spear where a Gorm feels it best. We want Cinzia to tank and score some hits with the spear.

Next is Elisa. We don’t have full equipment and we cannot surge yet, so she only has a Founding Stone (just in case) and a Cat’s Eye Circlet. She will do the scouting for the team, ensuring that everyone stays as safe as possible.

First male of the team is Ignazio, who voluntereed for the expedition and burned with the flame of vengeance. In his righteous fury, he wants to annihilate whatever lies in the darkness, to avenge Furio’s death. Yes, Ignazio is kind of an asshole, you know the type. However, the good Montelucians decide that he would make a good hitter, what with all his rage and all, so he gets the equipment to hit ranged and hard. Being ranged, he can also scout enemy AI with Rawhide Headband, providing useful insight. Ignazio departs as a killing machine.

Last in the team, more like an aftertought, there is Karl. Karl is actually a ladies’ favorite and a passionate lover, more adjusted to live in the settlement than to hunt baby-faced elephant with bulging ballsacks. Nonetheless, he heard that girls dig scars, so he hopes that a one-shot hunt will be his life-long passport to Pussyland (Population:Karl). Whatever. We just gave him Bone Darts and told him that the pointy bit goes in the monster.

Hunt Phase

Alright guys, this is the Hunt board:

Three short, easy spaces. Please don’t screw this up.

Karl steps forward, draws Head-splitting Pain: the Gorm moves one space next to the hunters, but the survivors have to roll against a particularly strong headache.

Karl rolls a 5, it gets him a random disorder, Coprolalia. He’s now always wearing noisy gear (useful for ambushes), and he’s always a threat, unless he‘s knocked down. Basically, he speaks an endless stream of profanities, and the only way you have to make him shut his pie hole is to punch him in the head. He was already so likable, this is an improvement to his character.

Cinzia rolls a 9, her Insanity is set to 0. It was already 0, so nothing happens.

Ignazio rolls a 1: random Brain Trauma. Rolls 2: Mortal Terror. Dead. On the first freaking square of the hunt. With one full set of Rawhide. And a bow. And the arrow. What a fucking asshole. No wonder he was friends with Furio. Basically, he saw the Gorm take one step forward in the distance and he soiled himself so hard he died. Better off without him, I say.

Elisa rolls a 7: random disorder it is: Seizures. When you hit her in the head, she spams incontrollably and is knocked down. Poor thing, it is understandable.

Ok, step one was a complete failure, let’s see what the future holds for step two.

Elisa steps forward and reveals Horizon of Bones. An experienced survivor would have pushed through, leading the group to an epic showdown, but Elisa, in the face of peril, decides to take another road. So, random hunt event: Man-Stealer. The survivors camp, and while they are asleep, some penis-eating cockroach up and eats Karl’s cock, leaving nothing there: Destroyed Genitals.

We have now two other males in the settlement, having it die out of underpopulation is actually a consistent chance. We have to get Face Painting ASAP.

So, the Hunt was a train wreck, in the end Cinzia steps in the Gorm square, we can begin the Showdown!

[csgnewstuff]

Cabro's legacy - Various

Doom 2 - Single Player - ZDoom Compatible - 16.5 MB

Disclaimer: I know none of the mappers in this compilation, so there's no way I could be going into this with bias. So, remember that before you slam the reply button. Thanks! Cabro's Legacy is a compilation of 15 years of Spanish Doom maps, a "commemorative megawad". That's 2000 to 2015. Fifteen years of Doom maps! Whee! Not only will this be fun to play, but fun to analyze, as we go from Y2K to last year. Within those fifteen years lies a lot of weird mapping fads and trends, some good, some just terribly embarrassing... and we all know what I'm talking about. Yep, those maps. Mmhm. The ones you liked but can't believe you did in the present day. Don't worry, I was exactly the same. Cabro's mapping tournaments, if I'm going by the text file only, was a contest in La Página de Cabro. From what I see, the contest had these rules: Limit-removing maps with custom music and sky. That's it. Participants had to use only stock textures. All maps must be playable in their own right, which means all maps shall be pistol started in this compilation. Thanks to ZDoom, this mapset has a portal map! Lots of games like to do this portal/painting thing these days, eh? Anyway, the mighty ZDoom ensures that you start each level with only the pistol, and when you complete a level, you're sent back to the portal map. Fair enough. The navigation of the portal map is a little disorienting - it took me way longer than it should to find the second portal room! I'm going to warn you now: This journey is going to be long, tedious, and near the end, you'll be begging for mercy. Sorry, you started reading this review, not me! You think I'd read a review this long? Fat chance! So anyway, here are the trends I could make out. Let's see if they match the Doom community as a whole! I (2000). The first contest. Only one map is playable, and it suffers from Wolfenstein Syndrome. There are some details here and there, but this is otherwise a very clean map. The other maps weren't included. II (2001). Still hallways, but rounded corners in places. Mappers are starting to branch out a bit, use some open areas, but still, hallways. Was this the year that everyone decided to copy The Darkening? Details all in the walls that serve no purpose, and crates, because CRATES. III (2002). Not as boxy, but the sense of scale has increased dramatically. Feeling small? Some rooms are ridiculously huge, beyond Run Buddy proportions, into Equinox territory. Still, nothing that'll knock your frame rate down a peg. This is 2002 after all. IV (2003): I think 2003 started like this: "Hey, y'all know this newfangled thing called 'detail'? I think we should take a look into it. Naw, you just spam the hell out of 1S lines because a clean room just ain't cool enough." I blame Caverns of Darkness, personally. Also, why did detail start to mean "smaller" ? Thankfully one map decided to pull this stunt; the others still did last year's "huge" trope, which is refreshing for a change. I'm starting to see midtex abuse, though - I know what's coming and I don't like it. Gameplay is about to take a back seat, isn't it? V (2005): OOOH MAIII GAAWWD DDDDEEEETTTTAAAAIIILLL! HNGGGH! *various ape noises* Yes, this is the year everyone went full potato with linedefs. Do I blame PA:R? All I know is that this is when my computer started to sweat, and my framerate started to dip. And nowhere to move, because not only are we detailing everything, we're playing with the proportions of a model train set. Spam those midtextures, ya bastards! Do a line of cocaine off a UAC crate! These maps aren't flowing well, and are artificially difficult with copypasta syndrome creeping in. There is no way to dodge attacks in cramped quarters, especially hitscanners! VI (2006): I will not rest until every map unit has something different in it. I will fractal the fuck out of this map, because detail, in the holy name of detail. Inject the midtextures, borders, and flat detailing directly into my bloodstream please. Pseudo-slopes! Tanking framerates! Gradient lighting! I got stuck in DETAIL SECTORS. What the Chri-OH GOD THE MONSTER COUNT WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THESE HORDES? Forty imps in a room that otherwise serves no purpose other than to connect two hallways that are also filled with imps...because why the hell not? Who needs gameplay? My map looks c00l d00d! Surely there's a good map somewhere? These have not aged well at all. And I know why, because the entire Doom community was infected with this. Gameplay is locked in the trunk, and we're cruising down Detail Boulevard. No brakes! VII(2007): ? *Throws down controller* Ya know what? I'm not even going to play these. I've had enough of the unfair difficulty. It's total bullshit that there are no skill levels, either. I can't see much of anything in one of the maps anyway, so hooray, mapper, I'm not playing that garbage! Another map is just very basic techbase, but still copypasta heavy. And then there's this slaughtermap - nope! What the hell is going on here? We started off with some decent maps, but as I step through the years, it's like, what drugs were we on? I cannot be the only one that sees how lazy these maps are. Yeah, visually impressive, I guess, but I'm not enjoying any of these - this is the No Fun Zone. And the slaughtermap is just so flat, so bland, so boring. VIII (2008): First map, and of course, a horde of revenants just punched my face in. I can see this being fun with an overpowered weapons mod, but as it stands it's just a boring KABLOOM-click-clock-clack SSG spamfest after the arch-vile scare. Yes, it's beatable, but I could only beat this one after savescumming the ever-loving crap out of it. Avoid, avoid. Okay, next ma--nooooooo we're back in detail land! PLEASE STOP! Oh, and even better, you can exit this map in two seconds, because the exit switch is right at the start of the map! This map looks really, really bad. The lighting in the complex is way too bright. I can't see anything in one room due to midtexture grate spam, everything is grey. That is an accomplishment, being so terrible. Oh, and hitscanners everywhere, because that's always good, innit? The last map is everything wrong with the uber-detail fad. This is total shit. Some sort of "city" map: the outside is so dark, nothing is really visible, and the buildings are so packed with little details that it looks downright comical. I'm not bashing these maps because I have any personal beefs with anyone, I'm being totally honest here - this map, and every one of these detail fad maps for that matter, are absolutely terrible. They look gaudy, the gameplay is either boring easy or frustratingly hard, and oh, of course I had to get stuck somewhere, it never fails with these maps! I got stuck in the hell section, on some "detail" rocks, and had to noclip out. IX (2010): ? BOO!!!!111 Yaaaay, we're now using the jumpscare technique! Nothing like going through a cave only to trigger something that causes two hell knights to pop up out of the floor instantly! Well, until you've overused it. And my poor framerate in the cave map! It looks pretty, though, and it's tough! It's not copypasta hordes either! I really like the cave/forest map. But that jumpscare abuse got old. I bound MDK to a key because I just can't be arsed fighting insta-monsters one after the other like that. Especially in this map where there isn't a lot of ammo. As for the rest, looks like we're hitting that era of "Try something simple for a change". Still, this was also the era of slaughtermaps - and expect an ass kicking. Some copypasta here and there, but at least it's something besides the super-cramped nonsense. This is not bad! Of course I could be totally wrong, and these suck, but in comparison to the previous few sets, this is really different, and I'll take that. Now let's pick these apart - some don't have difficulty settings. In fact, I've been meaning to bring that up - some of these maps so far have no difficulty settings whatsoever - ITYTD can be almost as hard as UV - and the only saving grace is that ammo is doubled and damage to the player is reduced. I guess in a community that only plays UV these days anyway, the other skill levels aren't even used. Boo! I use different levels all the time! It depends on how much I'm willing to use my brain at the time. X (2011): What. The. Fuck. We have entered the "what is this I don't even" zone. First map is a circle.. thing? It's kinda hard. Weird, but it wasn't the boxy junk from a few entries back. Second map is some kind of story-based map. The detail in this map is over the top, but at least all the detail looks like it's something in real life - computers, beds, tables, TVs, that kind of thing. Lost souls coming out of nowhere scared the piss out of me. And then there's this absurd hell map that is actually pretty cool. Got my ass thoroughly kicked, but someone is trying something different and that's more than I can say for previous entries. I can't hate these. Play 'em. There's one of these maps that feels like it belongs in the next category, so I'm going to hold my tongue on that one until a few lines down... XI (2012): MY MAP'S BIGGER THAN YOURS! Switch hunts. Everywhere. Ugh. NO. It's taking dozens of seconds sometimes to load these maps. What on this earth is taking that long to load? These are rapidly becoming unfun by how much time it takes to complete them. I'm not here to read 1,000 page novels, this is friggin' Doom! Why make an entire episode in one map? Is something fun not good enough anymore? Honestly at this point I'm not even really playing these. I don't have a month to play this, I don't have a week to play this. This is absurd. Make your own decisions on this one, but as for me, they've turned Doom into a chore, and when you do that, you FAIL. This doesn't bode well for the rest, does it? XII (2013): MORE *excessive swearing cut* NOVELS! Yes, your map is pretty. Yes, it took three minutes to load. Do I know if it plays well? Hell if I know, because my framerate dipped to 486 levels just trying to play the goddamned thing. This mapping contest has become the equivalent of Roman gods quarreling, each one of them trying to outdo the other in some ridiculous, hilarious fashion. It's becoming comical now. Whatever happened to making a map? It doesn't have to be a LITERAL MAP! There was one entry that didn't tank the FPS, and that was really mazey, so I'm not sure if I liked that one either. My head is beginning to hurt. NEXT! XIII (2014): Okie dokie, we're going absurdist now? Not sure what happened here! Still, maps far too damn long to enjoy casually, or even seriously, what the heck! At least level designs are cleaner, here. We're still switch hunting and maze-navigating though! Is anyone still playtesting these? Is anyone still reading this? Banana? Banana! I'm really sleep deprived, now. Starting to see things, and I'm not sure if it's me or the maps. And of course one of them is the size of Alaska, because that's the only language some of these contestants speak now. Are we almost done yet? XIV (2015)...Heh. So this is it? A city map that's somewhat playable, and a techbase map that doesn't suck? Cool, cool, what's the last map? A Sl.. sl..slaughtermap... *faints* So, to recap: we went from simple, fun maps, to detail-fests, to supergiant maps that take minutes to load and days to beat. What did we learn from all this? That the community has a lot of talent, and some of that talent might be going a little too far and trying a little too hard (read: way too hard) to prove itself. I have no idea why the contest entries went from short, fun romps to Greek epics, but I can't imagine being the judge, having to sit through dozens of entries, each trying to be megabiglargehuge, because the entrants are desperately trying to impress the judges. it's just not impressive if every single map entry tries to do this garbage. The larger the map, the less likely the gameplay is going to be tuned to anything sensible, unless there are teams of mappers looking at this stuff, and I doubt that was the case. There's no way to test this all the way through, multiple times, by yourself. My hands hurt, my eyes hurt, my ears are shot from blasting Ween all day and night playing this map over the Labor Day weekend. I don't even know if I played all these fairly; I may have cheated a bit to speed things up, but at this point it would take a team of reviewers to tackle this one and give each map a thorough assessment. I have given each an honest try (with the resurrect command bound to a key) and the majority of these maps are just too friggin' big. In conclusion, Cabro's Legacy is a set of forty-two maps trying to justify their existence, with many of them slipping and falling flat on their faces. Where did this go wrong? A better question is, "When did it ever go right?" Answer: Rarely. Maps taking minutes to load didn't help, either. Play if you dare.

http://www.doomworld.com/idgames/?id=18402