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yutzen · 2 months ago

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Of Silk and Fangs

(And the last one from the archives that I want to put up - from this point forwards it's all gonna be new. Main crew once more, and based on a prompt from Make Up A Criminal on Cohost, which I will very much miss. I thank them for giving me the ideas that spun off into some of my most loved characters)

Assassin who keeps making you the bait

"Alright, then, let's run this checklist one more time...!"

In a sparse hotel room, surrounded by shale brickwork, a smiling, horned bat stood right before a mirror tall enough to capture all eight feet of her properly. Rather than her usual billowing cloaks and cowls that hid all but her face and hands, she was wearing a silken one-piece that neatly hugged her lithe body while leaving her limbs - and all their thick, pale-brown fluff - uncovered for once. It was practically underwear by the standards she knew... But she needed to survey herself one last time for what was to come.

"Fancy dress, check!", she began, snatching a heap of bright blue fabric off the back of the nearest chair. A toss in the air and a deft grab from below, and said dress was slid flawlessly onto her body, letting her admire it on herself once she turned back to the mirror. The shiny, sapphire-blue threads wrapped neatly around her slender form, which felt almost odd for her to show this much. So used to billowing cloaks, something that showed her shape was novel... and that little slit around the legs almost felt scandalous to her. "Looking good, Ziv-Ziri! Hee, I should save this one after the party, might want to surprise someone", she told herself in a lilting tone as she spread back her wings... neatly covered in glittering strands of the same fabric, that almost floated around them with a will of their own. Perfect to hide the unsightly - and more importantly, unmistakeable - damage all over them. She almost wanted to flap them...

But Ziv-Ziri cast that thought from her head and returned to the moment, rather than get lost on such flights of fancy. "Fancy jewelry, check!", she continued, and opened up a small, wooden box laid out on the bed. Inside, the accessories she'd need shined in the candlelight: Bracelets big enough to hold loosely around her wrists, rings with (decently faked) rubies for her long, dexterous fingers, a long, silvery necklace with the symbol of a guild she didn't belong to cast in (what looked like) gold, and the most important part: A dazzling array of earrings and pendants to chose from and combine, all for even the most elegant of Vezarym to fit their enormous ears with - or at least, they looked the part. Already her mind ran with possibilities: "I'm gonna have to find the right set for these... hope I get to keep them, no matter how much of an imitation this all is. Good enough for me!"

Snatching a handful out of the box, the bat headed back to the mirror, smiling at the sight of her newly-fancy self. Even by her lonesome, she couldn't resist a comment as she slid the closest chair in front of it: "Makes a lady feel like a proper guildmaster looking like this! Speaking of though, next up: Attitude!" She snapped her fingers, holding her grin as if amused by the act... And then, with a quick, deep breath, everything about her motions shifted in moments. Her smile went from toothy and overjoyed to closed and merely polite, her eyes narrowed to something a little more sultry, and she turned on her side with one leg crossed over the other, rather than her previous pose that suggested she'd jump off the seat at any time. Her every movement went from its energetic, near-jittery self to something slow, fluid, and perhaps almost languid, so long as she could mind it. "Yes.... yes! Feels like a check to me!", she said, triumphantly.

Right before covering her mouth. "Oh, right", she said, stifling a giggle, "speech! Accent, way of speak, let's see..." With a subtle clearing of her throat, Ziv trailed her fingers along the ridges of her neck, preparing herself... And then, a speech, in a voice both lower and smoother than her usual shrieky tone. "Let's see, let's see. I have a part to play, and today that part is of a fancy- no, of an elegant sort. And so, I must sound ten, or perhaps twenty years older than I am, a check on that perhaps. Modulate better, of course, and use a vocabulary fit for the most affluent. My, perhaps I have it after all! And of course, the... mm, obvious, yet, mm... perennial, that is it! The perennial accent of one that never left the tallest rungs of Tak-Fizun. A definite check on that, too, mhmhmhm~!" Throughout it all, her motions were elegant, but perhaps overdramatic, going with her every word as if acting out a play... complete with corpsing, by the end, as she fell into a giggle-fit at her own impression of a pampered guildmistress.

Yet again, the bat cleared her throat, getting back to her 'elegant' tone. "Still, or rather nevertheless, there is something missing here. Mm, a touch of makeup, check." She looked at the little table that separated her from the mirror, and palmed the tiny box at the very corner. "Lucky me to have the eyelashes I do, am I not?", she muttered as she leaned much closer to the mirror, her eyes wide open... And indeed, under the light of her own iris, those long and tangled lashes were very visible. She reached up with one hand to carefully straighten them out between their digits, thinking about how troublesome they could be outside this, while her other hand opened said box, to find the needed implements within...

But on the way there, her digits almost bumped a thick tube of something off onto the floor, then snatched it out of the air before it could land. Thankful for her reflexes, she quickly checked just what that was...

"Black dye... crap, should've done that one before everything else. Well, check, I guess, looks like that's everything." Her ears flicked with annoyance, jingling their new jewelry. This was gonna take a while.

And there was someone that needed to know it, in fact.

Making a quick run for the door, Ziv-Ziri twisted the handle as slowly and quietly as her haste would let her, and opened it up just enough to poke her face outside, and say: "Sorry, Pins, dye's gonna take me some time, I'll try and make the rest quick! But I think I got this down at least...!"

And the figure right outside, less than half her height and wearing a long, smoky-blue coat that covered them from neck to ankles, more fit for Southern rains than a hotel room, barely even turned to look at her before nodding. "Knew y'would, on all accounts.", answered a male voice, slightly muffled and with a faint lisp to it. 'Pins' raised his hat's great, drooping brim, and despite seeing nothing but two piercing turquoise eyes she knew there was a smile beneath them, somewhere under that scarf, as he added: "Y'can feel free t'arrive 'fashionably late', think it might even work better, yeh?"

"Just gonna hope you're right" was all she had to say before shutting the door. They both had work to do.

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"Mm? Pardon, mister Nalvik, did I hear you right?"

Ziv-Ziri - or rather, "Netarki", owner of an up-and-coming (and nonexistent) clothing enterprise in the Eastern Gyre - had heard him the first time, of course. But it gave her a chance to flash that tiny smile that this old Toskar seemed to love already, and make sure he was committing to this. He was entranced as it was, sure, but better to have him completely around her little finger. And besides, she did have the excuse that this was a busy place. A delightful little eatery, it was, and conveniently placed, too! And whatever the stone that made up this smooth architecture, with the structure's parts just blending into each other near seamlessly... It was pretty by itself, and while one'd expect its brownish color to feel dull, under the candlelight it felt welcoming and even warm. Shame it was so expensive "Netarki" would need to dig deep into Ziv-Ziri's wallet just to play the part. Unless she could convince him to cover his tab...

He answered while she pondered, his gruff, gravely voice cutting into her thoughts. "I said, I think we could hash out a more elaborate agreement, miss Netarki." The Toskar she was dining with, of course, was another case of unfortunate flaws. He was huge, almost as tall as her and wider than any she'd seen, and clearly a veteran both by his age and the scars along his arms and neck, where his overburdened shirt couldn't hide them. And the cracked quills of black and white along his back were impossible to miss, despite the lighting. If you didn't mind age and size - or if you liked them - he was more than easy on the eyes, and if her old friend Askalim looked like this in his old age, he'd be lucky... aside from the mustache. That had to go.

"Oh! Then do go on. I was already sold on your usual services, I must admit, but... you have my interest, mm~?", she said, leaning forwards, letting her wings twitch briefly just to let the fabric flutter. She held her smile, and let her eyes wander just slightly, to show "interest" he could catch on to.

And it seemed he did, going by that grin of his. The Toskar was clearly aiming for a small one, but it was hard for someone like him not to show enough teeth to rip out a throat just trying to be friendly. Was one of them ivory of some kind? "Netarki" would like the subtlety, but to Ziv it just seemed tacky. "While we do provide establishment and logistical protection, and you can rest assured nothing will happen to any cargo you request or send, there is a little something... extra. A few extra favors, for customers who deserve it, and would rather not be... troubled, by upstarts in their field." Now he leaned in, making his chair creak as he laid one heavy claw on the table next to his empty dish, and raised one digit in the air with his other. "An enterprise like yours has enough trouble without others from far outside this town barging into their business, I imagine."

Ziv-Ziri couldn't assure this was the jackpot, but it sure sounded like it. She knew of "contractors" that had been leaving smaller businesses to the wolves around the Eastern Gyre, even as far outside as Saltmeadows... And, more importantly for her and her customers, actively hunting down caravans and smuggling operations alike in the area, to stamp down on outside competition, even the murky sort. But, "Netarki" had to be delighted about this, and so she played the part.

"Is that so?", she began, her voice huskier for just those three words. "Why, that already sounds like something I may need, the way winds are blowing... And you say this is for customers who deserve it, mm~?" She punctuated that "deserved" with a big, big smirk, going as far as she could without showing fangs, and with the briefest of winks from her golden eyes. She waited for his reaction, and soon heard him huff, a surprised, yet delighted exhalation of someone that got it. Time to lay it on a little thicker and secure things. "Ah, but topics like these, matters of such depth, should be covered with a little more privacy, don't you think~?", she said, in a lower, lilting tone... before rising one finger and looking towards the nearest staff, thankfully three tables away. "Check, please~!", she called out, complete with oblivious smile and a side-glance at the badger.

But as soon as the staff nodded and called out for someone deeper in, as soon as she started to fetch her part of the tab, Nalvik reached out and gently nudged her wrist back down. "Oh, no, miss Netarki, I'll pay. It's only proper, for this lovely evening!" And again that razor-sharp smile... On one hand, not having to pay was a plus, but on the other, not letting her cover her part felt odd. Surely he knew what that meant to a Vezarym? It was either an act of... charity, or part of a greater transaction. Either a slight against someone who had her own money and plenty of it (much as Ziv-Ziri herself would've just seen it as scathing honesty), or an indebtment. Well, back to the one hand, she had him! And so, Ziv smiled again, with just a bit of teeth, and let her mask wear said smile.

One transaction, one farewell and several traded smiles later, out they were into the sandstone streets, with yet-unclear direction. Despite their time in there, the shrouded crowds of Bannerbound hadn't thinned one bit - if only, they'd gotten thicker, with meandering Troxi showing their feathery crests. This made a few things harder, but it meant this charade could go a little longer.

With two quick twitches of her left wing, Ziv made a signal to the one that should be watching, before donning her noble smile and turning to the "generous" Toskar with her once more.

"Now", she began, leaning in, "about these, ah, "upstart" troubles... I must admit I've had a few of my own. Of the off-city sort, in fact." The Toskar turned with a raised eyebrow, his smile turning just a little sly. "Netarki" had his attention again, and so, she kept digging, looking for confirmation. "I won't bore you with the details just yet, of course, there are nuances that would spoil our evening, but... Ah, there's one bothersome clothier that's been hacking away at his prices, even as I have to raise mine! With the Clans making it ever pricier for spider-silk from our guilds to get in, I've needed to triple some of my wares, outright? And yet, this one, this one..."

She paused, clenching ring-laden fingers in fake outrage - one that led to a single, enormous webbed claw settling against her shoulder and holding tight, pulling her closer. It almost derailed her train of thought right then and there, but as she reminded herself this was a sign of success, she kept going. "...I found, after a deeper look, that he was importing it anyhow. Sneaking it in, paying some filthy miscreants to slip it past into his hands. And he still has enough left over to keep the old prices, and enrich himself on the difference! It just isn't fair, in the least..."

Another pause, feigning helplessness, and a loud sigh... Just enough for her to locate a familiar hat with a wide, droopy brim among the crowd. So far, so good.

And now, for the finishing blow. With big yellow eyes turning to him once more, fluttering to flaunt their lashes' painted length, and with a big, hopeful smile, "Netarki" opened with a sweet tone: "Is that something your services can take care of, Nalvik? Something you and your men can help me with?" She leaned until she was almost laying on him, her long fingers on his shoulders. Her smile now showed just a few too many teeth, and a turn at the corner that was almost lascivious. One last push, with some husky, sultry honey in her tone: "Can I have a strong hand such as yours, aiding me in correcting this little injustice~? The hand of a powerful man, who can put all of this in its rightful place~? I could use that~."

Ziv-Ziri didn't even have time to doubt, to fear she may have overdone it. His eyes were wide, his breath grew quicker, and even with the fur she could see him redden, as his smile quivered just to remain polite. Lord Below, the "taste for Vezarym" bit in the dossier wasn't exaggerating. He answered, wrestling with his flustered voice. "Ah... I never knew you were so troubled. Why, a lady like you shouldn't ever have such burdens on her shoulders. Let me assure you, this is very much something we can take care of." Then, the big badger leaned in, and pressed her tightly against himself with his claw, letting her feel his sheer heft through both her dress and his thick, wooly shirt. In her ear, a whisper, not even bothering to hide his desire: "But we should hash out this properly, and privately, Netarki, don't you agree~?"

Jackpot. A fairly uncomfortable and very dangerous jackpot, and one that gave her troubling thoughts, but a jackpot nonetheless. It was time to reel it in. Ziv slid one hand behind his back in the pretense of an embrace, and made a few motions for a pair of turquoise eyes to see.

"Netarki" then pulled back just enough to add a whisper of her own: "A hotel room wouldn't do for that sort of privacy, but I have a place... My office. It's an old place, just refurbished... and so, no one yet has moved in, but me. And no one shall bother us there~" And with one fingernail trailing gently down the back of the Toskar's neck - finding scars that made her wonder if he'd been bitten by something before - she pulled back just enough to flash narrow, smoldering eyes at him, letting them glow just a little brighter... Before adding, with a cheerier tone: "And besides, it's quite close! I wouldn't want to make you wait, mm~?"

And from there, it was just a matter of marching out and gently, but firmly pulling him along by the wrist. Ziv knew she couldn't get him anywhere if he simply stopped, so "Netarki" gave him a long stride with swaying hips to follow, spreading her wings upwards just a little so he could see it. It was a stronger hook on him than any other she could think of, and by said hook he was reeled right in...

Towards an old, blocky building of recently-polished limestone, its windows closed and dark but neither shuttered or boarded, and its door given some very recent care. It fit the fib Ziv-Ziri fed him, and the badger didn't need to know just how recent said "refurbushing" was.

She pulled the old soldier to the door, but when she slipped the (skeleton) key to open it where it belonged, the Vezarym felt something tense in him. Soon as she turned around, she saw him looking around, with narrowed eyes. He was looking for something, but he had no idea what...

Ziv's mind raced. He was a soldier, and looked like a veteran at that, so it wasn't unlikely that something about this last trek had set off his instincts. Maybe it was how much the crowds had thinned, or the building itself. Or maybe he'd seen a hint of a smoky-blue coat on the sidewalk that gave him an odd feeling. Oh, that was bad... But this was still an uncertain stage. She could still convince him it was nothing to worry about, whatever it was. But if she couldn't guess what without asking, and thus showing worry... She'd need to go for a stronger option.

So "Netarki" closed the distance with a smile, and leaned in- no, outright laid on the Toskar's stout body, opening both wings to cling them around his shoulders, and reaching around his enormous waist to latch on. She placed her hands right above his hips, and sank those fingers into his figure, as round and solid as a barrel, and then closed the distance between their snouts, leaving less than an inch of separation, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Come oooooooon, it wouldn't do to make a lady wait, wouldn't it~? Especially one eager for some help~..."

And just to finish it off, she trailed one hand down to his thigh - one that Ziv thought could probably bend iron over its knee - and sank her grasp there instead, palming it and all.

Lord Below she really was going for this, wasn't she. Thankfully, Nalvik responded to that before she could start considering what "going for it" like this said (or didn't say) about her, that conundrum could wait. "Eager, you say...?", he asked with a smile that refused to hide its fangs...

Time for "Netarki" to finish her part. Her only answer was to keep her same smirk, and practically lunge into the darkness of the building, with a giggle that would almost be un-ladylike. But they both knew what they intended in the room at the far end, where the old Toskar practically chased her inside - outright slamming the door behind him - no longer caring about the place this would lead to.

He was too excited, and too deafened by his own heavy steps upon the floor, to notice the door would quietly open again just moments later.

He saw her slip into one room at the very end, and tunnel-visioned as he was, didn't even think to glance around the hallway and see the work that went into cleaning and polishing it all up. He just went right for the door, opening it into sheer darkness... Before two yellow eyes opened half-way, and the lighting of a candle let him see just what was inside. But all he had eyes for was one thing: The Vezarym sitting on the desk, leaning back with widespread wings, and one long, long leg crossed over the other, furry thighs shown under the hem of her blue dress. "So, big man... about that agreement~..."

From that moment, Nalvik was entirely lost. He made a steady approach, already reaching for the bottom of his shirt to pull it off, bare himself and "hash out an agreement"...

Before he heard a rush of wind, and felt something long, squishy and wet slap across the side of his neck, around his throat, and making the full lap before he could react to stop it. He felt this overly thick rope bulge and tense somehow, as someone caught the other end, and he felt several little pinpricks all around his neck like a collar of spikes-

"Deal's off, blubberpot", said by lisping, wheezy voice.

A tug at both ends, and a kick to his lower back that sent him stumbling forwards. A surge of searing pain all around his neck, as those pinpricks became something like the savage fangs of a beast he'd never known digging into his flesh. The sight of "Netarki" closing her eyes and turning her ears away, more uncomfortable than horrified-

And for Nalvik Mirkalshum, leader and owner of the Snowbownd Shields company, that was that.

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"...can I open my ears now?"

Ziv-Ziri piped up, squirming on a desk that wasn't hers before standing back up. She had heard two thuds rather than one, the latter much heavier, but she still needed reassurance it was over. The aftermath, she could handle with some steeling, but the process...

"Yeh, 's done." The voice - and accent - of Liyon "Pins" Pinweave was unmistakeable, even with her ears down and shuttered from within. "Had a bit a' trouble with th'bit near th'end. Got one hell of a backbone to 'im-"

"I don't need to hear that, Pins, that's your part", she answered, utterly unamused, before letting go of the blockage... and wincing. The cut was clean, alright, though the mess on the floor as what was left bled out very much wasn't. And there was Pins himself, with his... "armament" crawling out of his sleeve: A red, pulsing tongue serrated with shark-like teeth that quickly retracted back into their spots within, as he used it to wipe...

"Pins I thought that was your ACTUAL TONGUE STOP-"

He waved her concerns off with his other hand. "I'm a professional like y'are in yer field, an' y'got to keep a rule fer each thing when yer doin' wetwork. I ain't walkin' out with blood on m'coat. 's improper, too."

Ziv could only hold her mouth just in case she started to retch, but thankfully, she could control herself, with one hand on the desk to steady herself. She did her best to convince herself she didn't hear a sound like a muffled slurp. "Fine, fine, I'll need a drink after this though. Another one even." She shook her head, opening her eyes, and looking over herself... not even one bloodstain on her dress at least, but she wasn't quite as sure she wanted to keep it anymore. "...was it the drink? You saw how I got... deep in character there, you think that helped? Was it too much...? That I was getting so easy with-"

Again, a wave that looked dismissive. "Just told ye, yer a professional. 's got its not-fancy bits, th'job. Th'bit I'm doin' now's like th'bit y'did just before." Again, that... tongue, retracted into his sleeve, and presumably into whatever mouth was beneath his scarf. Then, he raised one spittle-stained finger at her. "'n you did it good, too. Would've bagged th'guy even if he hadn't liked bats. Y'saw I was right 'bout that one, yeh? But y'went well above it. Pfheheheh, could've dragged even a moth in 'ere, right by the-"

"Yeah yeah sure okay I got the idea thanks." Ziv could only handle so much, especially after the most bizarre compliment she'd ever gotten. But a compliment nonetheless, and from a... "professional", at that. Crude or not, he knew his stuff. "But I guess you're right that it did work, even if it put me way too close to him..." There, she had to stop herself from glancing at the separated body on the floor. "Worked on a big guy, too, and this time I mean that by position! That ought to throw them into chaos for a little while..."

Liyon raised the brim of his hat enough to look her eye to eye. "Went well enough that I'm gonna ask if y'can do that again. If it ain't this way, in another, 'cause I think you may have a knack fer actin'. Y'got some years wearin' a smile in front a' people that'll kill ye if they catch yer bullshittin' 'em, yeh?" And again, the Bannerbound raised a wet finger, almost pointing it at her. "'n I bet ye need a fella with my kinda knack for wetwork too. I heard of ya, means somethin' in th' business, yeh? Yer growin' somethin' alright, 'n yer gonna need more a' this." He emphasized, pointing at the bloody sight on the floor she very much didn't want to look at.

The Vezarym was sent into a sputter. "Wh- I don't need- I don't have- this was just a- do they want me dead already- ONE SEC." One deep breath later, she reorganized her thoughts enough to speak them: "Okay, if you heard of me, before I heard of you, that's... a problem. Worse than I thought when agreed on... this. Crud." She started to think back on this assassin's... familiarity. Damn it, he knew her way before, didn't he. And she hadn't even thought anything of it before, let alone pondered the implications. When an assassin had studied you this much, it was usually bad news. But it meant something for her, too, and her... growing, actual enterprise. One in which every time things went off the rails, or even stayed on them, someone died. And all she could do was keep hers alive, few as they were...

By the time she held that thought, and looked up, Liyon was right by the window of the room. "Think 'bout it, yeh? Right now, we oughta leave, quiet as that went. Got a climbin' route that oughta get us both right outta here quick. Call that one another good bit, I know y'can handle one a' my climbin' routes." Climbing rather than flying him out, another thing he knew. Damn it.

Nevertheless, there was only one thing left to do, as she approached the window with him and laid one claw on the side... Well, two things, one that maybe gave her a chance to rattle him back. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to think about it now. But on the plus side, I know where to find you!"

#fantasy #writing #writing prompt #prompt story #yut-fiction #subterraneum (yut)#original setting #original species #ziv-ziri (oc)#liyon pinweave (oc)#bannerbound (species)#vezarym (species)#toskar (species)#Subterraneum: Lightless Road

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alcinadimitrescuwu · 4 years ago

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A Modest Proposal (Alcina x Fem!Reader)

Premise: You finally muster up the courage to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu. But will everything go as planned?

Note: Even though we technically don't know Alcina's middle name, I gave her Carmilla as her middle name in homage to another beloved Sapphic vampire! :)

Warnings: blood. Steamy scenes her and there, but nothing NSFW.

As you take the last steps towards your mistress’s chambers you have to stop for a minute and take some deep breaths. The other maids had taken to giving you concerned glances all morning. Your nerves had been so fraught that a plate had slipped out of your sweaty hands and broken. You didn’t mind the stares. To everyone else, this is just an ordinary day. Not for you.

Today is the day you are going to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu.

However, you have some errands to run first. For that you are going to have to ask Alcina, ironically enough, for the rest of the day off.

You steel yourself, slap your cheeks to banish any last nerves and knock on the door.

“Come in,” you hear an elegant, mature voice call.

Lady Dimitrescu is seated at her secretary, lining up accounts for the month. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Upon clearing your throat, she takes off her reading glasses and when she sees you a smile bursts across her face that takes your breath away.

After a year and a half of courting, you could still not believe that this beautiful woman was your lover. You take in her laugh lines and dimples, her slightly puffy cheeks that she hated but you found adorable, her carmine lips freshly painted, and her blue eyes with a corona of gold around them that you found absolutely mesmerizing.

She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Yes, iubirea mea, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to take the rest of the day off if that’s alright with you,” you say in a rush.

She blinks, surprised, but then smiles. “I don’t mind. After all, you’ve been working so hard lately. Have you cleared it with the head maid?”

“Yes-” Before you can say any more, in an instant Alcina has bent down and taken you in her arms with your back against her ample bosom. You feel hot breath on your neck and her curls tickle your ears as she whispers, “We could spend the whole day together. How would you like that, pet?”

You find yourself lost for words as she moves your uniform collar and begins kissing your neck. You lean back and sigh. Her perfume is intoxicating. She moves one hand to your hip and the other begins to peel back your skirt.

You would rather do nothing more than to make love to Alcina on your day off, however there are other matters more pressing. It takes great self control to take her hands off of you. A look of hurt crosses her face. You turn around and give her a chaste kiss and hold her face in your hands. “Forgive me, darling. I would love to but I have some errands to run. May I see you later? Dinner, the usual time?”

Her expression brightens and she kisses you deeply. “I’ll look forward to tonight then,” she says, tucking a curl behind your ear.

You can only nod and when you turn around, Alcina gives you a playful slap on the bum. You look back at her and she gives you a devilish grin.

Closing the door behind you, you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Alcina’s libido, it seemed, could never be satiated. As you take a step you wince and rub your behind. That woman honestly didn’t know her own strength sometimes.

You wrap your scarf around you as you leave the castle grounds. It may be the dead of winter but you find yourself sweating from nerves. The Duke catches your eye and waves you over.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! Just the lady I wanted to see. Your package just arrived.”

You feel your breath catch but nod silently. He turns around and begins rummaging around in the store. You turn around so as to not catch a glimpse of the Duke’s massive behind and you freeze. Alcina is at the window enjoying her morning cigarette. And she is staring directly at you.

You whisper to him, “Wait.” Alcina is still looking at you as she’s taking a drag off her cigarette. Smoke wreathes her gorgeous face. You give her a nervous wave. She waves back and then hears the phone ring. With a grimace, she puts out her cigarette and steps back inside.

You turn back to the Duke. “All right. It should be fine now.”

The Duke smiles and then presents you with a box slightly larger than a normal engagement ring box. With bated breath you open the box and behold the engagement ring that you have bought for Alcina.

Getting the ring had not been easy. When the Duke had told you the price for an engagement ring, especially a custom-made ring for Alcina, you nearly cried with frustration. After all, the main purpose of you working at Castle Dimitrescu was to send back money for your aging parents. When you and Lady Dimitrescu had first begun courting and she learned of your family’s financial situation she had offered to send them money herself each month so you didn’t have to work. However, your pride would not allow it. Any money sent back to your home, you wanted to come from your labors.

Getting enough money for your parents while also raising money to buy the ring had been a long and arduous process. You had begun taking up extra shifts to make up the money. There had been many nights where you had fallen asleep on the sofa with a feather duster in your hand and Alcina had to scoop you up in her arms and carry you to bed herself. But looking in at the ring within the box, you found it had been all worth it. The ring is beautiful, around 14 karats of gold inlaid with rubies forming the House Dimitrescu crest. You are sure Alcina would love it. It had taken time to get the exact measurements of her ring finger. While Alcina was asleep, you had taken her left hand often and studied her ring finger making sure the ring fit snug but not too tight. To get the crest right, you had taken to drawing it over and over again in your off time before you had a drawing good enough to show the Duke to have it commissioned.

You look up and grin at the Duke with tears in your eyes. “Duke, it's beautiful!” you breathe. “Alcina- er, Lady Dimitrescu will love it!”

He pats your hand as you slip the box into your apron pocket. “Not a problem at all, m’dear! Good luck tonight!”

With that done, you head back to the castle. You practically skip back to the gates, taking out the box every so often and peeking inside. Your joy dissipates when you realize what the next item on your to do list is.

Asking for Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters’ blessing.

When you walk in, you actually run into them getting ready to go out. Bela smiles at you as she adjusts Daniela’s cowl on her traveling cloak. “Y/N! Good to see you! Mother told us you had taken the day off.”

Cassandra pipes up, “We were just going out to go hunting! Want to come with us?”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you all about something,” you say as you look around the foyer for any sign of the girls’ mother. “Is there somewhere private we can all talk? Preferably somewhere your mother doesn’t frequent?”

Daniela’s eyes glitter mischievously. “Oooh, keeping secrets are we? Come on, I know a perfect place we can hide!”

Daniels leads the pack to the library. “Mother usually practices her singing around this time,” she says over her shoulder. “So there’s not a chance she’ll overhear anything you say.”

Sure enough, you hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice singing an elaborate coloratura from upstairs. Perfect.

Daniela’s hands run over the panels in the wall. “Now where is it….Aha there it is!” Daniela picks up a loose panel on the wall and puts it to the side. She steps in and backons the rest of you forward.

There is no light in this room save for torches every couple meters. The room can’t be much more than 6 feet tall, so there was no way Lady Dimitrescu could fit in properly. “We used to hide from Mother here all the time as children,” Daniela winks conspiratorially at you.

Cassandra begins jumping up and down excitedly. “Now what’s the secret? Tell us! Tell us!”

You take a deep breath and then let it out. “All right...Tonight I am planning on proposing to your mother and-”

You are cut off by the girls’ cries of jubilation. Daniela runs over and gives you a big hug. Bela has burst into happy tears. Cassandra continues jumping up and down and chanting, “Bonus mom! Bonus mom!”

You can’t help but laugh. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”

“Of course!” they yell in unison.

Bela says excitedly, “The ring! Do you have a ring?”

Blushing furiously you nod and take out the black velvet box and open it. They “ooh” and “aah” and take turns looking at it before they finally relinquish it back to you. As you put the box back into your pocket, you say, “Well girls, I need to start getting ready. Please make sure not to do anything to arouse your mother’s suspicions. I want it to be a surprise.”

The girls nod their assent, but Cassandra interjects, “Do you need help getting ready? We want you to be looking your best for tonight!”

Everyone enthusiastically agrees and you can’t help but smile fondly at the girls. You may be closer in age to them, but ever since you had begun courting their mother, you loved them like they were your own children. “All right, if you insist.”

The girls cheer and Cassaandra takes you by the hand and leads you back to your room to get ready.

15 minutes before your meeting with Lady Dimitrescu you take a look in the mirror. The girls truly outdid themselves on your makeover. Daniela had curled your hair and it hung in ringlets over your shoulders. Cassandra had given you one of her dresses, a red column dress that was backless with a plunging neckline. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would normally wear, but you had to admit the silhouette was very flattering, highlighting your natural curves. The best part: it had pockets large enough to hide the ring box! Bela was on makeup duty, giving you wingtips sharper than Alcina’s claws and a smokey eye. You spritz on some rosewater perfume and head out. As you pass the hall mirror, you consider putting your hair up in a chignon but think better of it. Alcina had always liked your hair best when it was down.

When you are at the door to Alcina’s chambers you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Come in, iubirea mea,” Alcina’s voice purrs within.

You head inside and Alcina has her back turned on you, lighting the candelabras at the table she has set up for you two. “I’ve needed this, my love. You should’ve heard what that fool Heisenberg-”

She stops and stares at you. You can’t help but feel self-conscious as she takes you in. She finally sets the candlestick she was using to light the others back in the candelabra and heads purposefully towards you. She scoops you up in her arms and kisses you deeply, burying her hands in your curls. She breaks the kiss and strokes your cheek. “You look beautiful,” she says breathlessly.

You can’t help but blush at the compliment. “So do you,” you reply as she sets you down gently, praying she doesn’t hear the box rustling in your skirts. She takes your hand and leads you to your seat where she pulls out your chair for you. You take her hand that is resting on the back of your seat and kiss it.

Dinner proceeds as normal at first. You listen to her talk about her day, which takes your mind off the proposal for a bit. Then she puts it at the forefront of your mind when she says, “I saw you talking to the merchant this morning. Did you have anything special coming in?”

Your mouth goes dry. How do you respond to that? “Oh, no. He just wanted to chat. You know how he gets!”

Alcina purses her lips but nods eventually. “Indeed.”

Awkward silence settles over you for a bit. Then she begins talking again, this time ranting about Heisenberg and you almost sigh in relief. This is easy. You just have to listen and agree with whatever she says.

“And then do you know what that fool called me? He called me a ‘simp’ for Mother Miranda! I didn’t even know what that was. I had to ask my daughters and when they told me of course I was infuriated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, a simp? Me? Ha! Imagine! He’s just jealous because he wishes that he had half the devotion that I have for her!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think I’m a simp?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glares at you from across the table. Damn. She’s caught you.

You stumble over your words trying to correct your stupid blunder. “I mean, no! Of course you’re not a simp! Where would he get that idea?”

Alcina leans across the table and takes your chin in her hand, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. “Am I boring you, pet?” she asks, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Er, no! No, I'm having a great time!” you say, smiling stupidly at her.

Alcina lets go of your chin and settles back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her stormy expression can’t disguise the look of hurt on her face. “You were the one that suggested we meet tonight, darling. I can’t see why you would want to if you’re not going to at least attempt to be present with me.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I-”

She turns away from you, her large hat blocking her expression. “Maybe you should go.” She gets up and crosses the room to open the door.

No, no, God, no this can’t be happening. This is your worst nightmare. You can’t let her open the door, you just can’t.

You practically fall to one knee. “Alcina!”

“What?” she snaps, turning her head toward you. Her expression softens as she sees that you are down on one knee with the box open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she says so quietly you have to lean to hear it, “Draga mea, what are you doing?”

You had a big speech prepared for this. But everything else has gone to hell in a handbasket, so you might as well get it over with. “Alcina Carmilla Dimitrescu, will you marry me?”

Alcina just stands there and stares. The tears that had been building in her eyes now spill over as she kneels down to your level and gives you a passionate kiss.

You smile against her lips and break the kiss. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, my darling,” she gives you a watery smile and caresses your jaw. “Yes.”

With trembling hands you take the ring out of the box and slip it on her left ring finger. She lifts her hand and inspects the new ring in the chandelier light. The rubies catch the light, nearly blinding you with their brilliance.

“How does it fit? It’s not too tight?”

She beams at you, positively radiating with joy. “It fits perfectly.” She then rises and heads over to her dresser and opens the top drawer. To your surprise, she pulls out a red box with the Dimitrescu family crest on the top. She sinks to one knee and presents you with an old, but beautiful ring. It must have been passed down through the Dimitrescu bloodline for generations.

Your face feels hot and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. She gently takes your arm. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wipes the tears that have already begun cascading your cheeks. “It is tradition for House Dimitrescu to propose with the family ring to symbolize the unification of two houses. I had been planning to propose to you next week. You beat me to it, you clever girl.” She takes your hand and slips the Dimitrescu family ring on your ring finger. It is slightly larger than your finger, but you don’t care. You couldn’t be happier.

Alcina takes you into her lap and kisses you passionately. In between kisses, she queries, ”All those extra shifts you took. They were all for me?”

“Yes, my love,” you say breathlessly. “All for you.”

She stands up and takes you in her arms. You wrap your arms around her neck as she deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with her tongue. You can taste salty tears on her lips. She carries you over to the bed kissing you the whole time and sets you down gently. She kneels over you on the bed and you rest your leg on her hip. The slit in your skirt rises up, exposing your stockinged leg. After putting her hand gently on your shoulder, Alcina begins kissing your neck. You lean back into the cushions and sigh.

You hear a low moan in her throat, almost like a whine as she kisses your pulse point. You don’t say anything; you just nod. Soon enough you feel the sharp but familiar sensation of Alcina’s fangs piercing your neck. She holds you against her body and you bury your hands in her curls, causing her hat to fall off. Briefly taking her hand off your shoulder, she slaps the hat aside like it was so much rubbish. You take pleasure in every sigh, every moan, every exclamation you elicit from her as she drinks. When she finally stops drinking she wipes her mouth and gives you a seductive smirk. “Good girl,” she purrs.

Alcina’s mouth is on yours again as she undoes your halter while you unhook her garter. She breaks the kiss and cradles your face in her hands. “Te iubesc, draga mea.”

You take her hand and kiss it while saying, “And I you, Alcina.”

The two of you make love until the sun rises the next morning.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 village #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years ago

Text

The Experts

The second story of this story-line. Another caveat of the request was to have the Imperials and Dr. Strange here, so here they are. I have decided to name the planet ‘Polaris C,’ so as to give it some sort of name. Enjoy Dr. Stephen Strange, Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex, and the Grey Knights meeting the Scoundrels. As usual, I own no one here except Drake.

“It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to defend Earth and humanity against all magical and extra-dimensional threats.” -Dr. Stephen Strange

“I am the hammer, the right hand of the Emperor, the instrument of His will, the gauntlet about His fist, the tip of His spear, the edge of His sword!” -Motto of the Grey Knights

When Doctor Stephen Strange had received a message from Peter Quill, he had almost laughed aloud. Quill. Peter Quill, in his opinion, was not only an idiot but a slight egotist. He had almost laughed. Almost. If the message was not a missive asking for help. His help, specifically. Strange knew that if Quill, of all people, was begging for his help, then things were very serious. So with slight misgiving (he didn’t quite know what he was getting himself into), Strange’s cloak had affixed itself to his shoulders and he had opened a portal to the bizarre planet Quill described in the message.

He almost wished he didn’t come. The planet itself was filled with strange red mist from an unknown source. Not a problem, though. His magic could easily take care of that. It was the commotion. People and aliens of all sorts, from all different places, were running about up to god only knew what. A huge, bipedal metal robot (at least he thought it was a robot) trudged around, seemingly scanning a collection of long abandoned black buildings in the distance. Soldiers of various sorts, all dressed differently, many of species he did not recognize, ran around doing things he couldn’t even guess at.

To his left, greatcoat swirling ominously in the mist, lenses of his mask blending in with the background, was Peter Quill. As soon as Quill saw the sorcerer, he ran up to him, almost hugging him before Strange stopped him.

“Oh thank god you’re here!” almost shouted Quill. “I don’t know what the hell’s happening and neither do we and neither to the GA and Cooper is trying to scan the structures to see what’s happening and he’s the only one who’s actually helping and Cain called the Imperial Inquisition who are arguing with the aliens and this reminds me way too much of when my father possessed me so can you help?” Strange’s mouth worked spasmodically for a moment at Quill’s rant. Quill almost hugged him and was now begging for his help. This was a serious situation, then. Strange held up his gloved hands.

“Calm. Down.” Quill took a few deep breaths.

“Okay. Okay. I’m calm.”

“Good. Now, take me to them,” commanded Strange. Quill gave a nod and beckoned Strange forward. The swirling mist parted to reveal a series of tents, the sort that he recognized from disasters he’d seen on the news. Cold and clinical. They ducked underneath a flap and passed swiftly through an airlock before getting into the main area of the largest tent. It was much bigger than Strange thought it would be. Various humans, all wearing whatever armor they had on at the time of the event, lay on cots lining the walls. All of them were out cold.

It was not the people on the cots, though, that caught Strange’s attention. An imposing blond haired woman stood in the middle of it, bickering with two aliens: a small, bug-like creature and an eight foot tall, four armed, blue carapaced alien. The woman wore a tight black bodysuit, and was currently glaring daggers at the black, bug-like alien. The four armed one stood behind the bug, both pairs of arms crossed in a gesture that was remarkably human.

“You can’t tell us what to do!” shouted the shorter insectoid. “We rule this galaxy, and we will do this our way.” The blond haired woman sneered at the two aliens.

“Chairwoman.” The word was imbued with so much venom that it made Strange look up sharply from where he was studying one of the unconscious forms. “You have no idea what any of this does, not to mention that-” She was cut off by the beeping of her comms device. She held a finger to her ear, and paused to listen to what was being said on the other side. “Understood,” she replied. She turned back to the chairwoman. “Well then. Do it your way. Xenos no longer has authority here. Take up the matter with Malleus.” She spun on her heel and strode out of the tent. On her way out, she almost slammed into a brown haired man wearing high boots and a leather jacket. He sharply avoided her, then gave her a glare as she walked out. Following him was an utterly massive individual in heavy green armor. Super soldier, though Strange. He’d bet his life on it.

“Well, looks like that’s all done now,” said the newcomer. He walked over to Strange and held out his hand. “Han Solo. You must be the expert that Quill called in.”

“Indeed I am,” replied Strange, still puzzled of what precisely was transpiring here.

“Master Chief John-117,” replied the green armored man with about as much emotion as a bag of rocks.

“Good to know we have a true expert on hand,” said the strange, bug-like alien as she walked over. “Hopefully you will be more agreeable. I am the Chairwoman of the Galactic Assembly,” she announced.

“Doctor Stephen Strange,” replied Strange politely. “And I am here to help.” The large, blue carpaced alien introduced herself as Sunny, chief weapons officer of the Omen. With introductions out of the way, Strange approached the cots of the unconscious humans. “Now, what precisely happened here?” he asked.

“We were inside one of the larger buildings in the middle of the abandoned city over there,” said Sunny, pointing to a direction outside the tent. “We went through it… seemed like some sort of weird laboratory. There was some sort of main central room. The room had blast doors; big ones to keep something out. They were open though. There was some sort of glowing white orb on a central pedestal. When Wilson, one of the scientists,” she pointed out Wilson, lying unconscious on another cot, “Touched it, it emitted a blast of white energy. It knocked out all of the humans. No aliens were harmed, and, oddly, the humans from one particular galaxy were not affected. They all seem to have some sort of glowing white light around their eye areas, and Adam muttered ‘Deus’ under his breath while still unconscious.” Strange didn’t know who Adam was, but this sounded… serious. And weird. Weirdly serious? No. Perhaps seriously weird? Stop getting off track, Stephen.

“Okay. It is good you called me,” said Strange. He paused for a moment, considering what he should do next. “Can you take me to the orb?” he asked. The chairwoman opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the tramping of boot soles on the tent’s artificial ground. A double file of soldiers came into the tent, along with three hooded, red robed individuals.

“Scions,” hissed Sunny. The soldiers all wore heavy black armor, and carried blocky rifles, at the moment pointed downward, but ready to fire. The red robed individuals hugged the shadows, their cowls concealing their faces. All of the newcomers had the same symbol emblazoned on their clothing: a stylized “I” with a human skull in the center. Sigil of the Imperial Inquisition.

“What is the meaning of this?” roared the chairwoman. For a bug, she had a pretty impressive voice.

“This planet is now interdicted,” replied one of the Scions. Strange glowered at him. If looks could kill, the chairwoman’s would have reduced the man to cinders at this point.

“Under whose authority?” she snapped. The arguing figures all turned around as massive footsteps sounded behind them.

“Mine.” A huge man tore his way through the airlock of the tent. Long grey hair was thrown uncaringly across his head, and a red cloak across his shoulders. Ornate power armor, fitted to his large frame, glowed a dull silver in the weak light. He was utterly massive, coming to reach the height of the Master Chief. A beautifully crafted sword rested on his hip, and a bronze breathing mask covered his lower face. However, it was not at this man that Strange’s eyes turned to. It was the group of individuals that followed him. If the man in front was a giant among men, the coterie that followed him were gods among giants. They stood eye to eye with Sunny, towing a full foot above the Chief and grey haired man. Each of the five wore silvery grey power armor, covered with strange runes, inscriptions, and seals. Huge, twin barreled cannons were attached to their left arms, and in their right they all held halberds, suitably sized for their massive frames. They stared at Strange and the group clustered around him from behind silver helmets. Vision slits, glowing white-blue, seemed to peer into their very souls.

With a start and a huge sense of foreboding, Strange realized what they were. The size of genetically engineered soldiers, the strange runes and seals on their armor, the magic resonance of the ammunition in their guns and the power whispering through their halberds, all augmented by the fact that each of the silver warriors was a sorcerer of fearsome potency spoke of one thing. These individuals were created and trained for one purpose, and one purpose only: slaying demons.

If Strange could take a human being and make them into a weapon perfect for destroying the extra-dimensional beings that some called demons, he would have a result very similar to these silent, silver soldiers. He could already feel the icy trickle of sweat as it made his way down his back. This was not good. Things had gotten a lot more serious.

“Who are you?” half-whispered the GA chairwoman. The sheer presence these newcomers had put Strange and everyone else in the room on edge.

“I am Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex of the Ordo Malleus of the Holy Ordos of His Divine Majesty’s Most Holy Inquisition,” replied the grey haired man. Well, this guy’s very dramatic and, apparently, very holy, was Strange’s first thought. “We are here to investigate the possession of these individuals,” went on Rex.

“As am I,” cut in Strange. He was the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, dammit, and he would not be intimidated by the likes of these men. He could sense the Inquisitor, too, was a sorcerer, and a damn good one at that. “Doctor Stephen Strange.” Being polite couldn’t hurt, could it? The Inquisitor gave no response as the lead silver giant stepped forward. Strange and the various aliens winced as the temperature in the room dropped noticeably. The giant warrior held out a hand and touched Strange’s forehead with his fingers; not too gentle, not too rough, it simply just was. Strage felt the man peering into his very soul, but remained silent and still. He had a feeling the giants would respect that more than any protests he could muster.

“This one is pure of soul and strong of mind,” announced the warrior. His deep bass voice rumbled and reverberated through the tent. Strange found it disquieting. The man introduced as John-117 had a flat, but normal human voice. All the super soldiers he’d met in his home galaxy all had relatively normal voices. It appeared that this one was so heavily augmented his voice was stronger and went much deeper than a usual human. How intriguing.

“Very well, then,” replied Rex. “You.” He pointed at Strange. “Come with us. Everyone else, stay here. No one leaves.” On that ominous note, Rex spun, and with a swirl of his cloak, walked out the door, followed by the giant warriors and Strange.

Elsewhere

“Ah, shit,” swore Thomas Drake. He looked around him. Groups of his armsmen, GA marines, and redshirts stood up, confused. Shepard, Kirk, and Vir brushed themselves off and stared.

“Where the hell are we?” asked Shepard. “And where the hell is everyone else?” They stood in an open, endless expanse of white. The ground was pure white, the sky… or whatever was located above them pure white. It was like being inside a sterile room. Or an insane asylum.

“Don’t know,” replied Vir. “Wilson touched that orb-thingy and now here we are.”

“Where is here, exactly?” asked Kirk.

“An excellent question,” replied another voice. The Scoundrels whirled around to face a man, ethereally floating in the non-existent air. The figure was a human man, obviously so. However, something seemed… off about him. There was, of course, the fact that he was in this strange realm, and that he was floating several feet off the ground. His face… Well, his face was the strangest part. It looked a perfect blend between every human variation: the eyes, the coloring, the hair, all of it. A perfect blend of every human to ever exist. How is that possible…?

“What are you?” asked Drake. His hand went for his sidearm, only to find it wasn’t there. The ethereal being chuckled.

“I’m known by a lot of names. You can call me Adam… Adham, and variation of the name, really. You can call me the First, or you can call me Deus. Your choice, really.”

“Deus…” muttered Vir.

“Great. Why are we here?” asked Shepard, cutting straight to the point.

“Quite simple. You are now imbued with my power. The power of what you may call a god. There are things out there that would see you corrupted, and we can’t let that happen.”

“Good luck trying to corrupt us,” said Shepard. The being frowned.

“Many more powerful than you have been. Many. It is simply a failsafe. Through this, you gain a portion of the power of the combined gods of humanity throughout our realms. While you can’t do any sort of god-like things; you’ll be the same as before except in one regard. You are all now utterly immune to any sort of corrupting influences. No one can hijack your brains.”

“Great,” said Vir bluntly. “Now what?” Deus smiled.

“Well, unfortunately, you can’t remember this conversation.”

“Why not?” snapped an indignant Drake.

“Two reasons: it’s best if you don’t, and there is a small chance that if these memories remain, you might go slightly insane. Slightly. Still don’t want to risk it. However, there is one other thing that I can do safely. I have a favor to ask you. There are artifacts hidden in several locations around my galaxy. They carry a taint. There is one on each of the places that this planet reaches out to. You can figure it out from there. I want those artifacts destroyed.”

“Okay. Can you send us back to... wherever we are supposed to be?” asked Kirk.

“Yes,” nodded Deus. He snapped his fingers.

On Polaris C

“This is the chamber,” came the reverberating voice of one of the massive, silver armored warriors. Strange had learned they were called the Grey Knights. They didn’t tell him anything else. Lord Hector strode forward to the white orb on the central pedestal.

“It doesn’t look like any… Chaotic artifact,” he murmured. “Hmmm.” At that moment, the orb, which had been glowing brightly, suddenly went dark.

“What was that?’ asked Strange.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Drake’s head shot up so quickly it smashed into a medical orderly who had been tending to him. With a cry of pain, he went back down into the cot, only to miss with one hand, lose his balance, and fall on the floor. Over his muttered curses and the orderly’s apologies, the rest of the unconscious humans woke. Sunny rushed over to Vir’s side.

“Adam! What happened?” she asked. Vir rubbed his head.

“Don’t know,” he said. “There was the orb, then Wilson touched it, then we got knocked out.” He looked up, seeing the Scions guarding them in a strange tent. “What the hell happened?” he asked, slightly miffed. At that moment, the flap leading to the airlock parted, revealing Dr. Strange, Lord Rex, and the Grey Knights.

“That is precisely what I am wondering, Admiral,” said Rex. He came forward, and held out a hand, touching Vir’s forehead. The temperature of the room dropped, and Vir felt the uncomfortable sensation of the grey haired man staring into his soul. Rex dropped his hand and turned to the Grey Knights. The temperature returned to normal. “He appears… untainted. Normal.” A pair of inky brown eyes stared down at the waking humans. “However, we must be sure. Our testing shall be… rigorous.”

There we have it. Now, unfortunately, you ought to know that the Grey Knights have a scorched earth policy. They fight daemons, and daemons corrupt. Therefore, anyone who is near them is at risk. Also, they are a secret organization, and if anyone is left alive to know about them, Chaos could use it against them. They have been ordered to not harm the Scoundrels themselves, as they believe they are vital to some future events. They won’t harm Strange, as they see him as a protector of his realm, much like them. The GA people though... Tell me what you think should happen, and if you like this story line. If you have any comments, questions, requests, criticisms, or concerns, tell me!

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #my writing #crossover #warhammer 40k #empyrean iris #dr strange #humans are space orcs

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thekisforkeats · 3 years ago

Text

An Avatar No More (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Three)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Character death (mentioned), character injury (mentioned), body transformations, birds, sacrifice (sort of, I mean, everyone lives)

Summary: Jon is a warlock who thinks they're a druid, and they're finally meeting their patron. Well, their original patron, not the nasty Watcher that tricked them into ending the world, that guy's a jerk and we have no truck with him.

Avatar powers or no, Jon will yell at eldritch beings to protect Martin because they need their tea-making poet alive and well, dammit.

——————————————————-

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Jon wakes to a world that looks as if it’s had all the color leached out, all blacks and whites and grays. Martin’s arms are still around them, holding them, but not as tightly as they dimly recall from before.

Martin seems to be asleep, his expression pained and his breathing shallow. He is vibrant despite the lack of color, standing out from his surroundings, almost verging into sepia rather than mere monochrome. Jon, too, seems almost as vibrant though perhaps not quite as much so.

There is a nip of cold in the air, and that by-now familiar feeling of being watched.

Jon slowly disentangles themself from Martin’s grasp, doing their best not to wake the sleeping man. They can see, and that is odd--didn’t Martin stab them in the eye? Eyes? They can barely remember, everything after stepping into the Panopticon is a blur except the conversation with Martin, as though the words were somehow burned into their memory while all other sensations faded during the trip to wherever they are now.

They take a moment, blink slowly, press their hands gently to their eyes. And yes, they have eyes, and there’s no blood on their face, and now that they look there’s no scars on their hands, either. No burn marks on the right hand, no worm scars on either one. Their skin is whole and unblemished.

This bothers them more than, perhaps, it ought.

They sit up and look around to take a greater survey of their surroundings. Jon and Martin are on the balcony of a large fortress set on the edge of a cliff in whatever this strange realm is. The sky above is an inky black, devoid of sun or moon or stars, and the landscape beyond the balcony is bleak: jagged mountains behind and a flat plain dotted with twisted spires below.

It occurs to them that it might be reasonable to assume they're in Hell.

“That’s… disconcerting,” Jon says aloud, as much because they are used to narrating their life as to hear the sound of their own voice. They stand, slowly, checking to see if there is a room attached to the balcony. Usually balconies are attached to chambers, though with Hell, it’s possible that this will be another level of torment: impractical architecture.

The balcony turns out to be just an extension of a room with no doors or outer wall. The room is shrouded in darkness, but it looks... big… ish? With maybe a table and some chairs and some sort of dias beyond that?

Jon leans down to place a hand on Martin’s cheek briefly before they begin to move into the room. “Rather spacious if… empty accommodations for a Hellscape.” Again they're speaking partly for their own benefit, but the darkness of the room is deep enough to hide someone who might respond if they speak.

And then there is indeed a voice, coming from the shadows around the dais: “This is not Hell. That place is rather more… torturous for mortals to exist in.” The voice seems… vaguely female, but with a strange, almost croaking sort of undertone.

“Ah, there you are.” Jon starts looking around for the source of the voice. “That’s good to know, that we are not dead. I take it you are who we have to thank for that? Since this is your domain.”

As Jon moves into the room, the shadows seem to shift and a form appears sitting on a large chair on the dais, pretty much a cowled cloak. It would be spooky if Jon weren’t becoming inured to these things.

“Oh, no, you are quite dead,” the voice replies from the depths of the cloak. “He is not, yet, but he will be soon enough.”

Jon looks back toward Martin, who looks to be in more pain and maybe a little less vibrant than he was. “Stop that!” they shout. They move back to Martin and kneel down, running their hands over the taller man’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Save him!”

Martin relaxes at the touch, but only slightly. He still looks pained, troubled.

The voice from the cloak says, “I have done nothing to him. He chose to follow you through the gates of death, and so… he is dying.” There is an odd level of unconcern in her voice. Not malice, per se, and not indifference, but rather what one might expect from an avatar of the End, regarding someone dying.

“And you can’t do anything?!” The indifference in the voice angers Jon. How dare this cloaked wannabe Grim Reaper just ignore their plight? And though they might not admit it, they have become used to getting their way in most things, to having power to shape the world as they wish. “This is your world; insulate him from the ravages of its effects!”

“Why should I?” The voice is more curious than malicious. “I have no hold nor tie to him; where once he belonged to Araushnee, in this form he belongs more to Oghma, or perhaps Sune, and I have little truck with either.”

“Because he is important to me!” Jon hisses, still keeping contact with Martin. “And you clearly have some attachment to me or I wouldn’t be here. Is that not enough, or are you so detached from all compassion as to not understand the intricacies of companionship?”

The figure moves out onto the balcony and Jon can see it now, cowled and hooded, with a glimmer of light from within the hood: eyes, maybe. “I understand compassion. And I understand companionship. And I understand that the latter has rarely led to much but tragedy, when pursued too fervently.”

The woman(?) looks down at the two of them. “He will not fade from your view. He will become part of this place, and if you are so concerned I will take him into my employ. You will be able to see him still, between the work I have for you to do.”

Of course. Some new eldritch horror expects Jon to work for them without even knowing what they're getting into. Lovely.

Jon stands, placing themself between the cowled figure and Martin. “No. You will save him and ensure that he lives. He didn’t sacrifice himself just to be controlled by another one of you.” They are shaking with both fear and rage. “You want my help, fine. Another Eldritch power wants my hands for its machinations…” They laugh. “What else is new? But he deserves better. Name a price for his survival and freedom, and I will pay it.”

The eyes under the hood seem to narrow. “There is a way to save him, to give him life enough to survive here and to survive the journey you are yet to take. But it would require…” A pause, a deep, heavy sigh. “I had thought to give you more time as something you would still recognize as… yourself.”

The woman gestures, and a mirror appears, so that Jon can see just exactly what she means.

The mirror allows them to see colors, but only in the mirror itself. Jon still wears the clothing they'd been wearing in the Panopticon (and much longer before that), and they look… themself, they're short and slim, their skin dark, but their eyes have become shining gold. Their long black hair shimmers now, and their ears are… pointed? Yes, elongated and pointed, and they realize their form is even slimmer than they remember, now that they look closely.

They appear to be, for all the world, an elf.

Jon puts a hand to their ears to see if it is real. How had they missed that, while trying to be sure they were whole and alive? “What? What… happened to me? You turned me into an elf? Like Tolkien? Why?”

“Tolkien…?” There’s a pause, as if the woman is accessing information; it reminds Jon, oddly, of themself. “Ah. No. I have done nothing, really; this is what you were before you went to that world. You have become something like what I once was, Tel-quessir. I believe in the common parlance the term is ‘sun elf’ or ‘high elf.’” Galadriel more than Legolas, then.

Jon tries to make sense of what the woman is saying as they take stock in the mirror but they can’t understand more than rudimentary levels. They truly had come to rely on Knowing as a crutch. “Went to that world? What you once were?” More questions than answers, and little is more irritating to them. They return their attention to the cloaked figure. “And this has what to do with saving Martin?” That is what’s important right now, after all.

The woman’s words become suddenly clipped. “You were mine. From birth, you sought out new stories, new experiences, new memories, as many as you could find, to bring them back here when you died. A spark, a soul sent into the dark, to try to expand my reach to the other worlds. And, I admit, to try to bring balance to a world so overrun with evil; an attempt at a ray of good to balance that out.” A pause. “I suppose it succeeded, mostly, if only by spreading that evil out into the realms. But the powers there, they tried to… claim you. The Spider, the Watcher…”

There is a rustling under the cloak, a sound of many wings. The voice rises, angry. “And then the Watcher stole you from me, to carry out its perverse warping of your world! It would not do, but you already had the means to combat what the Watcher tried to make you, Archivist. And so, here you are. And yet, you do not even know who you truly are.”

There is more rustling of wings beneath the cloak. The woman is clearly angry.

“Wait… you’re saying I’m from here… originally? Not human?” Jon touches their ear again, a nervous gesture. “And I was your agent… meant to be your eyes and ears until Jonah Magnus…” They have to stop, the anger that rises in them is so great, “did what he did.”

Jon’s tone turns insistent, and they wish they could still compel answers. “Then tell me. What am I? What are you? Feathers, a cloak, pinpoints of light that could be eyes. Do you have a name?”

“You are not from here,” the woman says, and her voice has become… melancholy. “We were from a place of light and beauty, once. It is my fault that you came here, but you never complained, before. And you were never meant… that ritual was never meant to happen. I never meant you to experience… any of what the Watcher made you do. But at least now the pain of all those you encountered is catalogued, and perhaps in time, they can be cleansed of the pain and know peace.”

Another deep sigh. “As for what I am…” The rustling intensifies, and then suddenly the cloak explodes into shadow. Beneath is not a woman at all--beneath is a massive collection of ravens. They fly around Jon, all flapping wings and eyes, and one in particular--the one with the eyes they've been seeing under the hood--seems to hover in the air in front of them. It speaks in a voice that booms off the nearby mountains:

“I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.”

Jon stumbles back a bit, and narrowly manages to avoid falling on top of Martin. They haven't been this terrified since… what, since before the Change? Since well before the Change. But terrified they are. “A-an-and I’m… I’m… o-one of your… servants… and extension of you… one-one-one of… of… those?” They gesture at the ravens flying about them.

The ravens settle all around the balcony, and the one that has been speaking stays where it is, as if to give them space. “No. I told you--what you are now is what you were one, long ago, before… before my failed attempt to become a goddess and stop the conflict between Corellon and Araushnee failed.”

She sighs, and her voice is full of ancient, terrible sadness. “You came to me and offered your help to stop that conflict. You gave much of your life and essence to try to fuel the ritual, along with many others. Like them, you believed in our cause. The gods were warring, and it had to be stopped, or the Tel-Quessir were doomed to split apart forever. We would save the Tel-Quessir from the doom we foresaw. I would travel to Arvandor, gain the attention of the gods, and stop the war.” A long sigh. “I was a fool, and it was all of you who paid the price.”

Jon is starting to put the pieces together. “So… in order to save Martin, what do I have to do? Give up this… essence again? Return the restoration you bestowed on me? Become something else? Something that can still be your hand, but different?”

The raven cocks its head in almost a nod. “This is what you were, before my failed ritual. This is what I purified you into becoming again so you could go to the place where last you lived. I had wanted to give you time as this again, a lifetime of reward for your service, but…” The raven looks to Martin. “You have brought your reward back with you, I see. You always did prize love above so much else.”

“In order to save his life, I must siphon off yours. Return him to what he is, and perhaps allow him to be more, something closer to what he was long, long ago. And return you… to what you were. Shadar-kai. Shadow fey.” A pause. “It is not pleasant. The color will leech from you, even in the living world. The shadows will cling to you. In the living world you may look young and fresh, but here you will see your true state: cursed, aged, withered.”

The raven gives a long, deep sigh. “You may say that you will endure all of that and more to save your lover, but you will lose many of the emotions that now drive you. You will be bitter and grim. Others will see you as cold and pitiless. Most of my people who go out into the world care little for their physical bodies; they know they will return here, and be reborn. Some embrace physical pleasures, others test their limits, and some strive for glory in their lives.”

“You… never did much of any of that. You were usually content to watch, to listen, to study, and to bring me back what you found. You played tricks, sometimes.” Is the raven… amused? Yes, by the glitter in its eye, it is. “You have always retained your sense of humor, regardless of everything else.” The amusement fades. “But you may lose your love for him. Even if you do not--even if it is the one thing you cling to--he may lose his love for you, on finding you so horribly changed.”

Jon looks over their shoulder at Martin for a moment and then back to the raven before them. “Done. It may be as you say, but he’ll be alive. And that’s what’s important.” They sigh. “He has to survive. He’s given up too much to not survive. Do it.”

The ravens all flock back into the form they’d been in before and the shadows warp around it like a hood and cowl once more. The Raven Queen nods--or seems to--and sighs. “Very well.” She reaches out with one “hand” to Jon and the other “hand” to Martin’s sleeping form

A bright white light begins to flow out of Jon and into Martin. Jon doesn’t feel lessened so much as different, as though the shadows here seep in to replace the light that flows out. They can see the color fade from their form in the mirror. Their skin becomes a pallid grey, their eyes become wholly black--no pupil, no sclera, something far more befitting the avatar they became. And they do, indeed, twist and wither and age, though they feel no less strong and vital.

And Martin… wakes up.

Next Chapter

#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #fanfic #my fanfic #tma spoilers #otp: one way or another together #tma d&d au #let all the broken pieces shine #just one more leeeeft

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caped-crusadez · 4 years ago

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ok so i spend most of my days headcanoning stuff set in the DC universe so get ready for a big headcanon Elseworlds infodump :)

The main focus of this elseworld is a 26-ish year old Tim Drake, who is now Batman after the death of Bruce Wayne (as well as Wonder Woman and Superman) following an attack by Trigon. I envision Tim's batsuit as dark gray, black cape and cowl (the cowl with short ears, the cape with shoulder spikes and a red inner lining), a fully yellow bat emblem (somewhat similar to Adam West's) in a filled-in red oval on the chest. Tim now resides in Wayne Manor, which he inherited as he was still Bruce's crime-fighting partner at the time of his death, and is currently renovating the original Batcave. An elderly Alfred, now bound to a wheelchair, also still lives there.

Tim's Robin is where it starts getting more interesting. She's a magic speedster, so envision a conglomeration of a Robin, Raven and Kid Flash. She's extremely inexperienced in her powers, which is one of the reasons she's still the sidekick in this situation although technically being more powerful than Tim. She wears a dark hooded cloak over a red, gray and black undersuit. She uses her superspeed in shorts bursts in order to launch herself into the air and fly using her cloak.

The extended Batfamily here would consist of this Robin, Alfred, a fully-reformed Manbat/Kirk Langstrom, ocassionally Bat-Mite, and a newly reimagined version of Blue Devil, who is present to help in training Robin in the more occult uses of her powers. Supporting cast would include Harvey Bullock (who surprisingly gets along better with this new Bat), a new female antihero version of Firefly (who here is a Catwoman-esque love interest for Tim), Jason Blood, Nightwing (who is usually busy with JL duties), and Wally West (who in this universe goes way back with Tim to their days together in the Titans).

Tim's rogues gallery would have a few of Bruce's enemies still remaining, but with most of them securely locked away in Black Gate or the freshly refurbished Arkham with improved security thanks to a $2 billion donation from Tim. The villains I think would be most interesting to see go up against this Batman and Robin would be Deadshot (in his orange and white outfit), Orca, Solomon Grundy, Lockup, Deacon Blackfire, Killer Moth, Cheetah, Mr. Mxyzptlk, Gentleman Ghost, Jinx, the Royal Flush Gang, Shriek (from Batman Beyond), and the Ultra-Humanite. Another interesting idea for a villain would be a Damian Wayne/al Ghul who never met Bruce and sees Tim as his rival, taking up the Bat mantle which he believes is inherently his legacy to own (maybe even make him a new version of Owlman!!).

Just as a sidenote, now that the original Trinity is gone, the ones to fill that void are Power Girl, Zatanna, and Martian Manhunter.

I've got a lot of other DC headcanon ideas i might type out in the future, but if you maybe have any questions about this elseworld in particular or any of my other DC opinions don't hesitate to ask ^_^

#dc #dc comics #my thoughts #headcanon #batman #robin #tim drake #blue devil #gotham city #elseworlds

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lizzy-bennet · 5 years ago

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batcat + stay please??? :)

Everything Will Be Alright (as Long as You Keep Me Next to You) or Maybe in Another Universe, We’re Happy

There’s a universe where Bruce leaves Gotham, where Selina Kyle is left alone at an airport, staring up at blinking airplane lights in the darkening night sky, as her mind screams with things she doesn’t get to say and her heart painfully pounds in her chest at the realization that the one person she thought would never leave her finally has.

And, in that universe, it’s the right choice. But there’s another universe, one where Bruce stays.

One where Selina arrives at the airport, but instead of watching Bruce fly off, she finds Bruce is still there, on the ground, with her.

“Stay,” she says, her arms sliding around him and her eyes falling shut as he brings his forehead down to rest against hers. “We’re in this together.”

“Together,” he repeats, like it’s a promise, like it’s something unbreakable, like they’re something unbreakable.

And, as long as they’re together, they just might be.***

In this universe where Bruce stays, he and Selina grow together, evolve together, and she’s there when he first puts on the cape and cowl.

They’re both silent for a minute, and there’s a weight to the silence, like they both know that this is a turning point, that this is where everything changes. One day, this will be known as the night the legend started, and they’ll both remark that they somehow knew it.

But, for now, Selina rolls her eyes and says, “The bat ears are ridiculous, by the way.”

***

In this universe, there’s one night, up on a rooftop and under a star-filled sky, where Bruce finally goes to propose, and he finds that the black velvet ring box in his pocket is surprisingly empty.

“Looking for this?” he hears Selina say, and when he looks up, he sees something glitter on her finger and realizes that Selina’s already wearing the ring. And also his watch.

Part of him wants to ask how on Earth she did that, but there’s another question to ask her instead, a more important question that makes his heart pound and his palms sweat because everything, everything depends on her answer.

“Sorry,” Selina says, not looking the least bit contrite. “But after all these years together, you really think you can hide a diamond from me? You remember I’m Catwoman, right?”

“Is this your way of saying yes?”

“Well, there’s no way I’m giving back this diamond,” she says, and he can tell that she’s trying to sound serious, trying to sound like she’s still thinking it over, but there’s a smile that spreads across her face, one that’s so brilliant he thinks it puts the stars to shame as she says, “so yeah. That’s a yes.”

***

In this universe, there’s one night, where in the middle of a rooftop stakeout, Selina sets down her whip, crosses her arms, and says, “You want to go where, Bruce?”

“To the circus.”

Selina stares at him, unbelieving. “Not really a fan of clowns,” she says finally. “Hadn’t realized you were. A clown shot me once, you know.”

Bruce grimaces, “I know.”

“I stabbed him too,” Selina says. “Might have the urge to stab another one if you make me watch them.”

“I think you’d like The Flying Graysons,” Bruce says, ignoring the clown stabbing comment altogether.

Selina raises an eyebrow. Now she knows why Bruce is interested in the circus. She wouldn’t mind seeing the Flying Graysons in person herself, they might be the only people more agile than she is…they just happen to be in a different line of work.

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes and picking up her whip. “I’ll go with you to the circus. But you’re buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.”

“And cotton candy,” she adds as she spots their target and they both leap off the roof.

(They come home with popcorn and cotton candy…and a child named Dick Grayson.)***

In this universe, criminals whisper about two figures cloaked in black who move like silent shadows. Where one goes, the other’s sure to follow. They work in tandem, the stories say, and together they’re unstoppable. They call them Batman and Catwoman, the vigilante duo of Gotham City, and they’re terrifying.

And there’s a rumor that they’ve acquired something called a Robin now.

***

In this universe, there’s a day when Selina comes into Wayne Manor’s kitchen and unceremoniously dumps a brown paper bag down on the counter in front of Bruce while he’s eating breakfast.

“Brought you a gift,” she says.

Bruce stares at the bag cautiously, because Selina’s surprise gifts usually involve sentences like, “That guy was a jerk anyway, B,” and “Don’t ask how I got this, but...” and include things like roped up thugs and black market emeralds and flash-drives with dubiously acquired information on them. Then there was that time she brought home four cats.

But when Bruce carefully opens the bag, he’s relieved to see there’s no jewels or weapons or ancient artifacts - or even a GCPD badge like that one time that led to him having an incredibly awkward conversation with Jim. Instead, there’s a suspiciously normal looking mug inside with big black letters printed on the side of it.

“‘Proud Dad,’” he says, reading the words off the side before asking, “did Dick have you get this for me?”

“Nah,” Selina says, stealing the last piece of bacon off his plate and earning a sigh from him. “I picked it out for you. As a clue.”

She waits expectantly, eyebrow raised, as she watches him mentally go over her behavior in the past week, watches as the cogs in his mind turn and turn until they finally click.

“Wait…” he looks up at her, “Does this mean..?”

“Yeah, some detective you are,” she says, smirking. “Congratulations, Batdad. What do you think of the name Helena?”

#the all fluff no pain in denial au #batcat #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batcat fic #gotham #batcat fanfic #batfam #batcat fanfiction #my fic

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whatsarasaid · 4 years ago

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How about a short something with Fragile finally getting to see under Higgs' mask (pre DS)? Either literally o metaphorically... Your pick!

I remember when I realized Fragile had never seen Higgs' face before the scene where he makes her run through timefall. Despite knowing this, I've always written him without the mask, and so it was interesting to explore this prompt. Sorry this took so long!

title: the unmasking. fandom: death stranding. rating: general audiences. word count: approx. 1300. characters: fragile, higgs monaghan.

—

The MULE got Higgs good. Caught him in the side with an electro-rod. He had never been great at hand-to-hand combat, Fragile thought. Tended to throw taunts and wild swings without landing any blows. His flailing style left him open to attacks. Like the jab of rod. As Higgs had seized on the ground from the shock, his head knocked against a rock, and so it was lights out for him.

Fragile wasn't far behind, equally roughed up but conscious. She yelled a final profanity at the MULEs as they made off with their packages, furious at herself for letting it happen in the first place, before rushing to Higgs, her knees splashing into the mud as she dropped.

"Come on," she hissed to herself as a breeze hushed over the valley, the prairie stems to rippling in the leftover quiet.

Peeling off her gloves and chucking them to the side, she checked him over for injuries. Torso was fine apart from where the stun staff had collided with his side, leaving a burn. She traced upward, brushing back his cloak as she went. Tugging his hood back, she noticed an inky stain bleeding through his cowl. She went to yank it off. And then paused.

Fragile had never seen Higgs’ face.

Higgs kept it hidden beneath that neoprene gasmask. Which made sense, in a way. His routes were the treacherous ones. He didn't have the build to carry large amounts of cargo, but he made up for it in speed. Nimble and quick, he scaled up embankments and navigated perilous ravines with precision—places where bikes and trucks could never go. But he played it risky to keep up his swift reputation, so a full-face covering was smart considering how often he braved cliff faces in timefall.

What made less sense was that he wore it all the time.

While that bred some mistrust, there was no indication he was anything less than who he said. Many vouched for him, everyone from preppers to his employees. If anything, Higgs Monaghan was consistent in character, even in his faults, which was more than could be said of most people. It would have been one hell of an act if it were a lie. At most, she had caught the glint of blue eyes through the tinted goggles, but they attested to everything she knew him to be—mischievous, clever, and convicted. Even when he started to show up with that golden skeleton jaw, she had laughed at the new addition. It suited him. Gaudy and showy.

But as the temple of his mask grew darker with seeping blood, Fragile knew it had come off. Her mouth tugged into a frown. She was uncomfortable with the idea of exposing him without his consent. But head wounds were no joke. And she wasn’t about to lose her partner.

As she unlatched the half-skull piece, she wondered about its composition. The metal was curious. It had that green tinge which reminded her of chiralium. Even hummed liked it. But that was like wearing poison on one's face. Higgs might be ridiculous, but he wasn't stupid, so it must have been some alloy made to look similar. She placed the gilded overlay on top of her gloves, careful to keep it out of the mud, and then gingerly lifted his head from the ground to her lap. Hooking her hands beneath the fabric underlayer, she dragged it off, trying not to tug too much or pull too quickly.

What she found beneath was not what she had been expecting.

It was a bit much to take everything in at once. She had speculated disfiguration, but with the answer before her, that might or might not be his reason for hiding. He was handsome. High-cut cheekbones with an angular, stubble-lined jaw; thin lips with a redeeming Cupid's bow; eyes with a delicate upward slant at the corners (she recognized the shape from all the times they studied and mocked her from behind the mask). But on otherwise flawless skin was raised scarification, jagged and black, scrawled across his forehead and where the fine hair of brows should have been. What further baffled her was that the tattoo seemed to be a series of numbers and figures. An equation. Higgs was self-educated, a big reader, but he never struck her a mathematician. Especially to the point of permanent proclamation.

Did someone do this to him? What other reason did he have to hide it? The thought caused her heart to drop. Fragile ran the pads of her fingers across the embossed markings.

She then remembered why she had revealed his face.

Taking him by the chin, she turned his head to the side and examined the wound. A gash on his temple. Not deep. Just bleeding in the frightening, fountainous way that all head wounds did. It was leaking into his hairline, matting the dark strands together in clumps.

Fragile worked efficiently. Readjusting him, she turned to her pack and fished out a medkit. She popped the tin open and riffled around for a disinfectant wipe, equipment rattling and clattering against the sides of the case as she shuffled. Locating a packet, she ripped it open and unraveled the pre-soaked paper cloth with a few flicks. Usually, it would sting, causing the receiver to flinch and jerk away, but Higgs was out cold and so remained eerily limp and ragdoll as she mopped up the blood. After cleaning and marrying the edges of the cut with two butterfly stitches, she replaced the cowl without disturbing the bandaging.

There.

Done.

With the immediate danger out of the way, she called into the closest distribution center and requested an evac as well as the weather forecast. Evac en route. Clear skies until twenty-two hundred. Good, Fragile thought to herself. Because she couldn't jump with him, unconscious as he was. As she waited, she stayed sat on the soggy ground, holding Higgs, keeping watch for any signs of his stirrings. Or MULEs. Or BTs (even if there was no timefall predicted).

The Express' private medical team arrived before he awoke.

As they loaded Higgs into the back of the truck, a medic went to uncover his face, but Fragile caught them by the wrist.

"Let him be," she said, "I took care of the wound. Check him for a concussion when he wakes up."

If Higgs preferred to safeguard himself from the world and its elements and its people, then Fragile would honor that wish.

She knew if their roles were reversed, he would do the same for her.

#death stranding #fragile (death stranding)#higgs monaghan #prompts #ficlets #anonymous

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gerbiloftriumph · 5 years ago

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So you wanna be a king (pt2)

(or at least cosplay one.)

Continuing the cosplay creation saga for anyone interested, here’s how I put together my King Graham cosplay:

Part 2: Jerkin

Disclaimer: I’m totally novice at cosplay and only do it for like one event per year if that, so take what you will or throw it all away.

Also this is not really a step by step tutorial post because this is several years ago and the details are hazy.

If you’re following along, then you should have a cloak and cowl (click for sort-of-instructions-here).

Step one: Pull out those reference screencaps you made in the first part and stare at them. Repeat that you still love this character and that you’re committed to this nonsense. Ready? Let’s go.

The long sleeved purple undershirt I just happened to find at Goodwill. Please try to find something lightweight--this costume is warm.

But you won’t be so lucky to find a jerkin at Goodwill too. You’ll have to make it, or at least modify something.

Still, it’s just an elaborate brown tank top, more or less. You don’t even have to worry about attaching sleeves! Surely this is an eas--wait, what are those lace things? Could you even bend down to pick up inventory items with laces that thick and close together? How can I translate that into something semi-practical I can wear without wanting to eat my adventuring hat?

It’s a great design, but I’m mortal, not digital. If you can determine a simple way to get that lacing to look accurate while still being comfortably wearable, let me, novice cosplayer that I am, know. (maybe if they were just made separately, flat, and sewn on, like a decal thing?)

I had planned on building this out of fake leather/suede-ish material, but then I remembered I wanted to also wear this as my new RenFest costume, and I didn’t want to die in July.

So I went to my local Joann’s and picked up a considerably lighter, thinner, and satisfactorily rich looking brown fabric (I think it was this stuff: https://www.joann.com/kona-cotton-solid-quilt-fabric/1378397.html) for both jerkin and bracers. I’ve lost the original receipt, so I’m not sure how much I bought. Too much, because my storage bin is full of leftovers. I’m sure 3 yards is more than plenty, but measure to be sure.

Tunic time!

This is the point where the “How To Graham” tutorial breaks down and becomes especially fuzzy and experimental, because I kept none of my in-process notes. High five, Gerbil, very helpful indeed. You might just want to glance at this for ideas before doing your own thing.

I laugh in the face of patterns, hahahaha. (bad idea, don’t be me.)

I got my favorite fitted t-shirt (Disney Afternoon ftw), paper, a ruler, and old scrap fabric to maul as practice. I pinned my shirt flat to paper and traced both the front and back separately (folded the sleeves in so my tracework was sleeveless). The front had a deeper neckline but was otherwise nearly identical to its back partner. Once both sides were traced, I added a half inch margin around them, cut them out, and started working on fake jerkins, so I could sculpt the right fit before I got out the nice fabric. I wanted the jerkin to be pretty form fitting as Graham’s is, so I curved the sides in a bit deeper.

I made at least two fake jerkins, fyi.

Since I went pattern-less (hahahaarrgh), tests were crucial, especially regarding the neck hole. The t-shirt is elastic, but my fabric is not. I personally require at least 22″ around the neck to get the thing over my nose, and it’s barely enough clearance. (I’m fairly certain I measured some other shirts with my fabric ruler for a loose size to aim for, then did edits on the junk fabric til I had a size that worked.)

Tests also showed that the back piece needed an additional two and a half inches of fabric on the bottom thanks to how it sits on my shoulders. In the above image, you can see the green fabric is higher, but I wanted the piece to look balanced from the side.

It’s a touch hard to see as it’s usually hidden by the cloak, but I find a balanced jerkin is a happy jerkin.

And here’s that additional fabric without a human in it. (ack don’t look at my uneven stitches)

By now, you should have a belt (in my method it doesn’t matter how it clasps, so pick any belt you please as you’ll be wearing it backward) so you can determine how long the flappy things on the front and back should be. Where your belt sits comfortably is where your side laces will stop and your trim on the flap things will start--the belt hides the transition.

Graham’s belt sits low on his (fantastically defined) hips. I prefer it on my waist so it doesn’t slide up when I’m walking, so my flap things are longer than his. For reference, my flap things...no, wait, there must be a technical term....Google says it’s a peplum. My peplum (??) are 8″ish long, though his look like they’re about half that.

For reference, as a 5′6″ person, from hanger to hem my jerkin’s back piece is approximately 28″ long. The most important things here are how long it is overall, and if the neck hole is big enough to fit over your head: nearly everything else can be altered when wearing it via the lacework I have planned.

Look, at this point, you might want to give up on me and find a real shirt pattern, fitted or not. I understand. I’ll wait. This isn’t actually a step by step tutorial so much as a vague What I Did And It’s Probably Wrong.

Okay, you’ve traced your favorite shirt (or bought a real pattern like a good person). Your tests have shown that your peplum sit at the same height on your leg, and you like the shape and feel of it when you wear your scrap fabric test (I recommend using safety pins to replicate the laces during the early size test phase). You’ve cut out the front and back shirt shaped pieces of brown fabric (with that half inch hem margin all around), and now they’re sitting on your floor, mocking you.

The actual construction part!

The only attachment you’ll give these pieces is via the shoulders. If you’re new to this Making Your Own Clothes thing and your fabric has a nice side and a not nice side, put the nice sides against each other and sew along the not nice side so when you turn it over your hem is inside.

I seam-ripped a collar from a shirt I loved but was too worn to wear otherwise--no math or sewing your own collar from scratch if you swipe it from another shirt. No one will ever see it since your cowl tucks into it, so it doesn’t matter how it looks, though natural colors are better than, say, blue, in case your cowl slips a bit. There are lots of lovely videos about attaching collars: this one seems nice, if you skip ahead to the actual sewing-on part at 4:50. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k31FWDp1s5I

At this point, since you’ve fitted it and trimmed it and done all that you want to it to get the shape you like, you’ll want to hem your shirt by that half inch margin all around so it’s clean and easy for the next part. It only looks vaguely shirt-like now since it’s held together just by the shoulders.

Now, let’s get medieval on it.

Time for lacing!

I used a blond suede leather rope to mimic the lighter color on Graham’s sides (check the beading or leather working section of the craft stores, and make sure it’s thick enough that it won’t snap under light strain, and thin enough it’ll fit through the grommet size you select). I already happened to own an anvil (...why?), so I just needed grommets. Mine appear to be 12mm--I got them in Ancient Copper. You’ll use them in the bracers later, too, so leftovers are a good thing for once. Hobby Lobby or Michaels can hook you up with supplies, but Etsy and eBay have more diverse color choices.

Every inch from where the armpit opening stops to where the trim of the peplums begins (the height of which was established earlier when I decided to how to wear the belt), I made a mark for a grommet, and marked its corresponding partner. For reference, I have 9 holes down each hem, for 18 total holes per side, and a grand total 36 grommets in the tunic. I jammed an awl through the holes marked and applied the grommets as per the packet’s instruction.

Like making a metal and fabric sandwich. With a hammer.

It’s totally therapeutic. I can see why Amaya’s into this stuff.

(It’s not a Looney Toons anvil, by the by: like this, instead.)

Unspool the suede rope and thread it through the grommets. To try and mimic the game, I use a ladder shoelace tie, starting with the grommet pair beneath the arms and running down until I tie a bow in the last pair. I tuck the loose ends into the waistband of the trousers. So, this: https://www.fieggen.com/shoelace/ladderlacing.htm

Finally, I made (because I couldn’t find to buy) my own trim about 1/2″ wide from some scrap light brown suede in the Joann Scrap Bin, and attached it to the peplum (is this truly a better word than flap, vote now).

And that, friend, is a jerkin that would make any real medieval person flinch but should be cool for cosplay. You should try it with your cloak and cowl. If you’re following my method, you get to layer up, lucky you: anchor shirt, long-sleeved-purple-undershirt, jerkin, cloak (snaps through the jerkin’s collar onto the anchor shirt), cowl (to cover your shoulders so you don’t see the cloak tugging at your jerkin collar).

Yeah, it’s warm. Sorry.

Drink some water.

When you’re done sweating in it (eww, I know it’s awful, sorry), handwash it. Strip the rope out of the grommets, use handwashing detergent in a (clean!) bathroom sink, then hang it over a bathtub to dry before relacing it using that ladder shoelace technique and storing it on a hanger. I always have it laced, and pull it on over my head with it laced, too.

And with that, you’ve got about half of your entire cosplay done. Congrats! Take some time to relaaaax. You’re gonna be a king.

(is this helpful at all to anyone? should i keep going?)

(peplum?? really????)

#King's Quest #kings quest #King Graham #cosplay #ack i'm sorry this is probably zero help whatsoever #tutorial

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eternallyyoungjustice · 6 years ago

Text

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 2

Author’s note:

Hey hey hey you beautiful people. Second chapter within the same month as the first, that’s a surprise.

So just so you all know, as per usual I’m super busy (school, work, extra-curriculars, social life, getting a semi-decent amount of sleep) however, as I’ve recently been loving this motivation train for writing this fic, I’m going to TRY to put a chapter out every 2 weeks. I would prefer to do more, but I only have a couple hours a day and I want to not only make each of these chapters good quality, but I also want to make them fairly long and I’m trying to edit them! So yea, bi-weekly seems like the best course of action.

Anyways, enough with me. Thank you for reading WTWTY chapter 2, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC, Young Justice and it’s places, stories, and characters all belong to DC Comics and the brilliant minds who created them.

Paris, France

April 16, 2008

2:46 CEST

The hospital was just like any other; blank white walls, the smell of disinfectant, the faint beeping of a heart monitor in the distance. Signs written in French were everywhere; showing directions, giving your regular everyday health registrations, maybe the occasional motivational poster. There was one area of the hospital however, that wasn't your typical everyday sight.

Standing by a window, looking in but trying to be stealthy about it, stood three adults. One, a dark-cloaked man whose cowl showed off two points shaped like bat-ears. Second, a woman with blonde hair wearing a leather jacket, a corset, and a pair of fishnet tights. Third, a male-humanoid robot with a bright red exterior, blue and gold cape, and a gold 'T’ shape on his chest. Had it not been nighttime, the three adults knew it wouldn't be safe for them where they were. But as it was nearly three in the morning, there was no danger for them in the hospital.

In the window in which they peeked, there was a young girl. Pale with freckles dusting her nose, big blue eyes, round cheeks, and long, light brown hair that fell in a messy, wavy, mess over her shoulders. She was awake, but extremely still. The only sign that she was even alive was the fact that she was sitting up on her own, her legs pulled up to her chest, and the tears that rolled down her cheeks. With her sat an older man in his mid-forties with greying brown hair, who sat in the chair beside the bed with his hand on the girl's back and a look of pained empathy on his face. There were also two boys, one older, and one younger than the girl.

The younger sat on the foot of the girl's bed, tears of his own flowing down as his hand lay on the girl's leg; and the older held a frown on his face as he leaned against the wall opposite the door, far away from the rest of the people.

“Are you sure this is the best time to do this?” The woman of the trio of adults asked. “She only just woke up and got the news.”

“The sooner we do, the better.” The cloaked man replied.

“She’s been through so much in just a few hours though.” The woman reasoned. “We could scare her off, or overwhelm her.”

“The emotions she feels now for what she's done are a good motivator to learn how to avoid it in the future. And the girl is on the spectrum, I have no doubt she's used to being overwhelmed.” The man in black countered.

Frustrated, the woman let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. She knew she ought to have been used to her co-worker’s coldness by now, but it still amazed her at times like this.

“What's your say Red?” The blonde asked, looking up at her robotic comrade. “This is all your call, not to mention your idea.”

The robot was silent for a moment, as if lost in thought, but then replied.

“Batman is correct.” The red robot answered. “Raw emotions act as human's main motivators, it would be the most logical conclusion to ask now while the events of today are fresh. However, it would be foolish to go in without any thought to her emotional state. We should act thoughtfully and with care.”

“Leave it to you two to act like this is some sort of battle plan.” The woman muttered under her breath, but then brushed some hair out of her face before walking towards the door, leading the trio into the room. The moment the three heroes walked into the hospital room, every single one of its inhabitants looked up at them.

“Madam Canary, Monsieurs Batman and…” The older man in the room greeted, addressing the heroes but falling short on the name of the robotic individual he did not know.

“So you’ve finally decided to stop creepily watching from outside like stalkers?” The oldest of the children asked, his shoulders being pushed back to appear bigger.

The two men's French accents were thick, but their English was still clear.

“Calvin, watch your manners.” The oldest of the family stated strictly to the boy before standing and addressing the three strangers. “I apologize for my son, he can be quite protective.”

“It’s no problem, Monsieur Leduc, we understand completely.” The blonde woman, Canary, said. “We...understand that this can’t be an easy time for any of you.”

“Markus is fine, Mademoiselle Canary.” The greying man said with a small smile. “And please don’t worry about us, we just appreciate the help you three have shown in this...incident.”

“Why are you still here?” The youngest of the boys asked, sitting so his body shielded the girl’s. “She’s awake and physically well, she hasn’t started another storm since she awoke.”

“Are you going to arrest her for something she had no control over?” The older boy asked. The girl’s body curled in tighter around itself. “If you try to take her away from us, you should know our lawyer’s on his way.”

“We’re not taking her away. But I’m glad you brought up control.” Canary explained, she turned to motion to her robotic coworker. “This is Red Tornado, another member of the Justice League.

I don’t believe any of you got the chance to officially meet during the debacle.”

“You’re...the one that flew with a tornado around your waist.” The girl spoke quietly. “You helped return the winds back to their normal paths after…” her voice fell away.

“Not a very creative name.” The oldest boy remarked.

“My name was given to me by my creator.” Red Tornado explained, before facing the small girl.

“But yes, I hold the ability to control the air around me. Much like yourself.”

“Except I can’t control the Winds.” The girl said, frowning. “They controlled me. I created a level 3 tornado while I was in a coma, completely unaware. Or at least...that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“For now you may have no control over your abilities, but that’s why we’re here.” Canary said.

“Red Tornado, and the rest of us, have discussed the possibility of him taking Evangelina on as a protege.” The cloaked man, Batman, said bluntly.

“Protege?” The girl and her father asked in surprise.

“I would be willing to...take her under my wing, in a sense. I could teach her how to use her new-found abilities, train her to control and use them, make sure an accident of this nature doesn’t happen again.” Red Tornado explained.

“And I would be happy to help with the emotional aspect.” Black Canary added. “Powers are often strongly connected to emotions and mental states, and as my colleague...has some lack of experience with that aspect, it would be my pleasure to use my psychological background to assist in and way.”

“So you’d be brainwashing her into becoming another one of your ‘sidekicks’ like we see on the news? Put her in danger and make her fight your battles for you? She’s only 14!” The eldest brother protested, taking a step towards the heroes.

“Calvin.” Lina called, her voice quiet in nature but it cut through the room like a dagger. Her eyes were so full of confusion and grief that just by looking at them, her family automatically were flooded with a sense of guilt and empathy. It was probably because of this that the three men let the young girl speak out.

As she turned to the heroes, she scanned all three of them carefully. As if looking for something, but nobody knew for what.

“If I were to become your protege,” Lina started, “I would gain control over....all of this, right?

I wouldn’t ever...do that again?”

Canary saw her cloaked colleague shoot her a sly look and she felt a strong wave of annoyance at the man.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado replied.

“From your report, you have a very different type of connection to, the Winds, as you called it.

But we’d certainly work on ensuring that you don’t lose control again.” Lina watched the robotic man carefully.

“You mean you’ll try to make sure I don’t end up creating a major natural disaster and end up causing hundreds of dollars in property damage, endangering the lives in the area, again.” Lina spoke with a strict tone, full of self-loathing.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado repeated.

“You all should know that you won’t have to worry about the property damage.” Batman said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “Wayne Enterprises has offered to take care of it.”

“The American company? Why?” Leo asked, frowning.

He never got a response.

“You should know, before we even consider this in any way-” Markus spoke up, “-my daughter, she...has some special needs…”

“Papa!” Lina’s head whipped around, her face growing pink.

“We’re already aware of your...learning disability.” Canary informed Lina, stepping closer to her.

At the term ‘disability’, the younger woman tensed and fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “But, fortunately, Wayne Enterprises has come through again.”

“What do you mean? Came through how?” Lina asked.

“Wayne Enterprises has been testing a new product in their health and medicine division.

It’s a type of autism medication that works to completely inhibit all symptoms and conditions for a few hours. It’s experimental, but completely tested and 100% safe.” Canary explained.

“You’ll have to talk about it with your doctors before you are even handed a dosage, and we don’t suggest using it until you’re well enough, but after you've gotten the 'okay’ you're going to have to speak with the head scientist about any side effects and limitations, but-””So not only are you trying to brainwash her into becoming one of your...child lackies, but you’re putting experimental chemicals filled with God knows what into her body?”

Calvin’s interjection was full of hostility as he stepped closer to the trio of heroes.

“We understand your concern, but we assure you-””Oh don’t give me that formal, robotic, bullsh-”

“I’ll do it.”

The whole room froze as, once again, Lina’s voice cut through the noise. She was looking at the heroes, her eyes dancing between Black Canary and the robot.

“You’ll...what?” Calvin guffawed.

Lina looked up, making direct eye contact. “You say you’ll teach me to control my...powers so this will never happen again? I’ll do it.” Lina explained. “I’m not too sure about this medicine, but I’ll consider it once I get an unbiased medical professional's opinion on it. But if you seriously think that you can teach me to control the Winds, well, I don’t really see a good alternative.”

“Lina, mon chou-”“It's my decision.” Lina said strictly, the pain in her eyes morphing into determination. Once a moment had passed, Markus sat back down.

After a quick beat, Red Tornado walked up over to Lina’s bed. Looking up at him, the French girl came to realize just how much bigger he was in comparison to herself. But then, the robot extended his hand. Smiling slightly, Lina took it and shook it firmly.

“I believe the proper statement to make here is 'Welcome aboard’.” Red Tornado said, and Lina could have sworn she heard a happy tone in his robotic voice.

Gotham City

April 16, 2008

16:00 EST

As Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, the desk that practically ruled over Gotham City, he let his mind wander. This was not an unusual occurrence for him, for either of his personas. Anyone who knew either the man in the suit, or the man in the cowl, knew that if Bruce Wayne ever got a far away look in his eye then he was already on a whole other planet. This however, didn't seem to stop the twelve year old boy in his office from chatting on in front of him.

“And then, ooh, and then the best part happens. The guy comes at me, all ‘oh you darn brat I'm going to kill you’ and firing at will, but he completely missed me! Stormtrooper-level missed me!

So once the guy's out of bullets, which takes like five seconds by the way, I-” the boy lets out a sound effect as he backflip-kicks and then lands perfectly back into a crouching position, “-the gun out of his hand and then-”he does another flip, this time going forwards, and then does a low spin-kick, “-knock him off his feet, just like you told me Bruce! Oh my god the face me made when he fell!”

The raven-haired boy looked over at the older man behind the desk, only to notice the far away look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face. The enthusiasm in the young boy leaks out as he realizes he's been talking to himself the whole time, before he stands up straight and fixes the tie of his school uniform.

“So...how'd that mission you went on last night go?” The boy asks, slowly stepping closer to Bruce. The man finally manages to snap out of his trance and focuses in on the twelve year old. “Freak tornado in Paris, right? You were out pretty late because of it.”

“Yes.” Bruce hums. “It went fine.”

After a long moment of silence, the boy's shoulders slag down as he realizes he's not going to get much more out of his guardian.

“I...think I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get a snack, do you want anything?” The raven-haired boy asks as he begins to take a step towards the office door.

“Coffee please, black.” Bruce grunts.

“Black.” The boy chuckles. “What a surprise.” But just as he's about to leave through the door, it swings open. A tall man with slicked-back hair and a white lab coat steps in, carrying a small metal box with the famous 'W’ Wayne Enterprises insignia engraved on it.

“Oh, so sorry Mr. Grayson.” The man said, quickly standing to the side.

“No problem.” The boy shrugs, and motions for the man to pass him. The man nods and does so.

“Doctor Leon.” Bruce greets, standing up and walking around the desk. “I'm assuming this is the package I asked for?”

“Yes sir.” The doctor replied. “14 perfected doses of the newest updated serum.”

“Good, thank you very much.” Bruce replied, and lifted the lid off the box to reveal its content.

The syringes were small, sized for convenience, and full of a translucent blue liquid. As the boy strolled over, he looked high to take a peek at the box's contents. Bruce allowed this for only a moment before closing the box again.

“And you're sure this batch was the one that successfully went through human trials?” Bruce asked.

“Absolutely sir.” Leon nodded. “We just ran the last tests late last night so everything was already out and ready to be copied. Every single trial has proved to be a success thus far, which is why it was marked to be put on the market this time next year.”

“Yes…” Bruce hummed, looking down at the box. The far away look returned again, but this time only for a moment.

“Well, thank you again Doctor.”

“Not a problem at all Mr. Wayne.” Leon nodded, and then turned to walk out. “Have a good evening sir, Mr. Grayson.”

The moment the door shut behind Leon, the twelve year old sighed. “Being called 'Mr. Grayson’ is so...weird. I kind of wish people would just call me Dick, or even Richard.” The boy quickly turned his attention back to the box in Bruce's hands. “So, what's that? Who's it for?”

“Medical Treatment Serum 219, strand 9.4, version 8.” Bruce grunted. It only took Dick a moment before it clicked.

“The new autism inhibiting meds?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you need 14 doses of it?”

“It's not for me.” Bruce replied, placing the box on his desk. “And no, I'm not saying who it is for.

You'll meet them soon enough.”

Dick's eyes lit up and grew twice their size.

“I'll meet them soon enough? Oh come on! Now you have to tell me!”

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ofxelvhen · 6 years ago

Note

♔ What (if any) jewelry does your character usually wear? For anyone who does actually wear jewelry.

Character Appearance Meme

Falon’Din:

The most obvious choice here, is forever changing his jewelry. It has to match what he’s wearing that day, has to be extravagant, is constantly trying to one-up any of the other Evanuris he may be meeting should they be wearing jewelry as well. He never wears less than three rings and often wears at least two necklaces. He tends to wear ringbands of gold or silver or some iridescent metal, anchored to his middle finger and wrapping intricately up and around his entire forearm, sometimes he’ll only wear one, sometimes he’ll wear a pair. He’s a tendency towards coronets when he’s going to be somewhat active ranging towards legitimate ornate crowns inside his temple or such, started with when they were crowned regents and continued on. He often has jewelry in his intricate hairstyles as well; beads or flowers or feathers braided or weaved in. He’s prone to going barefoot with an anklet at home, but in public he’s like to wear ornate but thin soled sandals because he refuses to walk the ground like a common person would.

Solas

When playing up his act as Fen’Harel he’ll wear a little jewelry, mostly small or subtle. Not gaudy. Necklace of wolves teeth to play up his name but he never hunted the animals specifically for the teeth. Refusing to accept DA:I’s whitewashing, he’s liable to have strips of fur or wooden beads in his hair. He’ll wear as little as possible to be convincing as a god and shed it all to be simply Solas when he can and wishes to.

Revas

After she gets promoted to Champion after Falon’Din’s loses the duel with Elgar’nan’s she does start wearing minor jewelry to show her status. She’s not big on jewelry so it’s not much, ornate wristbands, a nice necklace, small and sparse hair decorations. Just enough to convey her status in her God’s favor.

Neither Dacien nor Melana are prone to jewelry; Melana’s a priestess in Dirthamen’s order thus tends to mainly wear little other than cloaks and cowls remaining fairly unremarkable, and Dacien’s one of Dirthamen’s agents, often playing servant or slave and certainly needing and desiring to go unnoticed until/unless it is deemed necessary by his God. Hamin, as well, will never wear jewelry and struggles just trying to comprehend no longer being a slave.

#headcanon;#c: friend of the dead; falon'din #revas placeholder;#c: The broken priestess; Melana #despairprayer #c: the trickster; solas {fen'harel}#c: pain as pleasure; dacien

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wasabi-duck · 8 years ago

Text

prince jungkook

okay everyone i have requests piling on up but good old clinical mental health problems™ are kind of yikes

but royalty au is my FAVORITE you have no idea like it's my fave au besides ouran but like au ohdaibljarh i love it

jungkook is leo lmao jk

so this kingdom is going to be a total rip off of nohr because i love my emo son leo and his dumb retainers

jungkook is the baby of his family, the youngest lil prince in the castle

he's kind of spoiled rotten honestly because his older brothers absolutely adore him, and they shower him in more attention than he knows what to do with

like he could bat an eyelash and hoseok would be at his side, asking if he needed anything

whenever he wants to practice his sparring, yoongi immediately stops whatever they're doing to help with bow and arrow practice or sword skills

jimin ALWAYS sneaks him pastries and buns from the kitchen

speaking of which pineapple buns?? ten out of ten would recommend

and while the princes are beautiful and kind and soft the kingdom itself is not

it's a dark kingdom, a rainy kingdom, where the sun rarely seems to shine

the main focus of the kingdom is agriculture, even though that's always a bust because of the terrible climate

they really make more money through weapon sales and trade all that good stuff

even though the kingdom is kind of tight on money yikes

but it's not like falling to shambles, not at all

the king runs a very tight schedule, and things are very organized, very controlled, very well run

yoongi is next in line for the throne, but the king totally favors jungkook and low key tries to give him more power than the other princes

but jungkook doesn't want that!! he just wants to chill with all his brothers and have a good time!!

okay let's get on with the story because i had a quality idea and boy howdy i sure forget things fast

alright, so the princes are making one of their daily visits to the town

but disguised, because things are no fun when everyone is bowing and trying to kiss your feet

cliche--- but i love it--- they have the really large cloaks and they just keep the cowls up because that would totally work

lol it does in this scenario

they love to look at the local produce, drink cheap ale at the local tavern, play tag with the local kids, and just interact with their people

not something the king does everyday lmao

today, it's rather cold, and jungkook can see that winter is coming by the way frost crawls up the trunks of trees, the way the birds have already started flying south, the way more and more shops close their doors to ward off the wintery winds

the boys still like to visit around town though

jungkook especially loves seeing the transformed landscape

as the youngest prince, he's usually cooped up indoors, listening to his tutor drone on about the influence of naval power upon the world, or balancing books on his head to maintain great posture or some other bs

so he loves being outside to see the pond freeze over, or the dirt start to be painted white due to the little snowflakes

he doesn't like seeing so many people so worried about their futures though

like i said, poorer kingdom, so most of the people suffer through the cold months with one blanket for a family of five, and half a loaf of bread amongst them

jungkook always tries to give people money, but yoongi tells him that's only temporary aid and he will make changes once he's in power

that doesn't ease the hurt in jungkook’s heart though

anyway they're in town right, and the middle two boys have gone off to god knows where, leaving yoongi and jungkook to themselves

they're in the middle of town, strolling amongst the various vendors, examining all the goods made available to them

out of the corner of his eye, he watches someone dart towards the bakers cart

there's a loud crash and jungkook spins around to see you on the ground, loaf of bread tucked under your arm

someone starts shouting and you push yourself off the ground, trying to desperately run for your life

a few soldiers start chasing after you and you're running fast, so fast, you don't pay attention to your surroundings and completely slam into jungkook, causing you to once again fall on your butt

one of the soldiers grabs your a and yanks you to your feet

“common filth like you ought to spend the rest of your days in prison, rotting away until the rats-”

“that's enough.” jungkook snaps

“and who are you to tell me what to do?” the guard laughs

jungkook throws off his hood and the guards immediately fall to their knees, begging mercy

jungkook gives you a soft smile, then devotes his attention to the guards

“how DARE you touch my servant like that.”

“your highness, you must be mistaken, this is a common criminal-”

“no, they are my servant, chosen by me to trust the security of this place. you know our enemies could attack whenever and wherever, and i need you to be on your best watch. clearly, you passed my simple test, and you shall be rewarded for it.” jungkook says, haughty tone to his voice.

he pulls a few coins from his change purse and tosses them to the baker

yoongi watches on silently, thinking of all the various ways he's going to beat jungkook’s insolent little ass tonight

you're shaking, badly, and you can't believe you were just saved by one of the princes, let alone the cutest one

jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you're like oh gods i need to thank him--

he turns his head “why are you just standing there? no servant of mine should be wasting time, gaping like a complete idiot.”

yoongi: boy what the f u c k

and that's where you find yourself later that evening, standing in jungkook’s room, freshly washed up and dressed in an outfit finer than anything you've seen, let alone worn in your entire life

“i've never had a servant close to my age.” jungkook is sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking his legs back and forth. “this will be fun i think. you're bound to be infinitely better than the boring old ladies that watch over me.”

you're too frightened to speak, so you stand there silently, shoulders tensed, eyes wide, hands clasped in front of you, trying to look anywhere but jungkook

“well come on, aren't you going to tell me your name?”

and so you do, sheepishly, so quiet that jungkook has to ask again

he nods when he finally hears you and then he kinda gets silent because yes he's the prince but he's kind of shy when it actually comes down to talking to people close to him in age

he starts kicking his legs again and then he gives you a quick look over

“well i guess i'll have to find someone to train you…” he says with a sigh

and you're like excuse me what you're the one who picked me off the street honey

but you can’t actually say that to him because like that shiz could get you beheaded or something and that is not what you need in life oh no

so you just kind of follow behind silently as he leads you off to where all the royal butlers and maids hang out and do their training mm hmmm

and when jungkook leads you in everyone is like ooh what’s up with the prince ooh look at the lil cutie he’s brought in

and they’re all like old so they can tease him like that because they practically raised this boy??

jungkook gets all red and he starts to stammer how it’s not like that and how he just wanted someone closer in age to serve him

and he just is like gotta blast sorry everyone

and so he leaves right away, not even giving you a good bye

you blink and all the servants swarm you, asking how you got jungkook to fall in love with you so quickly and you’re like in love what does that meaN

after all their inspecting and gossip about you, they actually get down to business about what you gotta do for jungkook as his new personal maid/butler

it seems simple

you have to accompany him to all his meetings, whether they be negotiations, tutoring lessons, or even dinner

you’re supposed to stay back and be like a shadow, just keeping an eye in case the dearest prince should ever need something

you also have to serve him tea in the afternoons, or at least, know how to

you need to help him dress in the morning and at first you’re like red in the face, sweating nervously, stuttering because what???

but the servants tell you that this job is only for really formal occasions, like when foreign princes and princesses come to visit and jungkook is too impatient to figure out how to wear his sash smh

basically you have to attend to his every need and you’re like great, i cannot wait, i’m ecstatic

or maybe, every time you touch, you feel the static (w/jungkook) and that’s why you’re so excited mm hmm

rijijaijajirt anyway

you’re super nervous especially since you just came off the streets, literally, like you have no social status or skills or ability to actually serve jungkook well

you’re like i will be beheaded within five days

you get the rundown on the whole thing, the whole job thing

and then the servants take you down to the servants’ quarters so you can set up a bed and sleep early so you’re well rested for the big day tomorrow

you set up a little spot in the corner of your room, and you’re like alright, i just need to sleep and maybe i’ll realize this is all a dream

nah fam

it’s not

because in burst jungkook, forlorn and confused look on his face

the servants are all rushing to bow and like ask what the deal is because royalty are so above entering the servants’ quarters (save hoseok who likes to come down every morning and say hi)

and jungkook points at you all accusing “aren’t you coming back? it’s been like three hours, you’re supposed to be back”

you look around at all the servants because “y’all just said i could sleep”

but they shrug and start to shoot each other looks and you realize that it’s ‘me against the world’

wow getting all the iconic songs in here tonight

you try to hide yourself in the corner but jungkook has obviously spotted you and he gives you this look

“i need your assistance, isn’t that your job? to assist me?”

you inwardly groan but give a nod of the head because this boy did save your life, you kinda owe him big time

“come on then!”

jungkook turns on his heel and you follow close behind, the other servants giving you winks and grins as you walk by

jungkook takes you back to his room and you’re like what it is late and i am tired and-

he just plops down on his bed and crosses his legs criss cross apple sauce and smiles all cute and you feel your heart start to stir at the innocence of him

“i want you to read to me.”

“you what now.”

“are you questioning me?”

“i mean, of course. which book your highness?”

jungkook points to one over on his night stand and you pick it up and inwardly stab yourself because it’s a history book about famous battles of lost kingdoms

jungkook looks so excited though and his eyes light up and you’re like oh my god fine…

you don’t know where to stand though and you kind of stand there awkwardly and open the book but it feels like you’re preaching to him or something

jungkook rolls his eyes and scoots over on the huge canopy bed and pats the now empty space beside him

“when i was little, my brothers would always read to me. yoongi was the worst. he always spoke all monotone and he would tell me horror stories and i would cry and then jimin would have to calm me down. yoongi is mean.”

when you don’t take the seat, he turns his head “i command you sit next to me.”

so you take a reluctant seat beside him with the heavy book still in your arms, doing your best not to look over at jungkook because you know that it’s wrong to look royalty in the eye let alone touch them

or like, idk, sit on their bed

while they are also sitting on the said bed

“hoseok was the best at reading. whenever he would read me fairy tales, he would change voices for all the characters!! he would always make them so exciting and give everything a happy ending…”

“so you have three brothers then?” you ask slowly, knowing that you’re not supposed to address jungkook so… familiarly

“three. i’m the baby. me and hoseok have the same mom, so maybe that’s why he likes me the most.” jungkook turns to face you. “but yoongi is the only son of the actual queen. so he’s the one who’s next in line obviously. he’s the one who was out with me! he likes me a lot too. jimin likes me too.”

“everyone likes you it seems.”

“i hope so.”

you two fall silent but it’s not really uncomfortable, just wary, because you two are in very distinct and separate roles that should never ever be more than a prince and servant, like they shouldn’t ever grow beyond that

but jungkook seems so… genuine? he saved your life and he treats you like an equal already, going as far to talk to you so openly about his family and everything? amazing, what a hero

anyway monsta x hero japanese version actually flows very nicely and you can tell they put a lot in time into making the japanese work with the music and beat so check it out my dudes

also anyone trying to go their concert…

okay anyway you start reading and it’s the most boring and dry thing you have ever read in your entire freaking life and you just wanna fall asleep but jungkook seems pretty fascinated so you keep going for his sake

it’s really pretty bad like you have no idea what pineapples have to do with warfare but they’re a pretty key role in this book

jungkook is practically leaning on your shoulder now because he wants to see all twenty seven of the pictures and he’s so excited by them

“it’s because, since i won’t have to get married because our kingdom pisses everyone off, i’ll probably be commander of the army or something. when yoongi steps down i mean. because he’s the one who has to be married, because he’s the only non-bastard son, ya know?”

you glance over at him “but aren’t you scared?”

“no. i live on adrenaline.”

and as you serve jungkook more and more you find that to be true

jungkook does whatever he wants whenever he wants

like one day you’re bringing him the afternoon tea and he’s busy messing around with his loyal doggy that you have to be like “yO YOUR HIGHNESS”

“you can just call me jungkook you know”

he’s bored and wants someone to spar? well it’s time to hop on yoongi’s bed and smash him until he can’t breathe

it’s cold in the castle? time to go and steal all of hoseok’s clothes? (which often end up having to be mended because hoseok is so thin and jungkook is so muscular that… rip (get it because he’s ripped, and the clothes rip…)

where did all of jimin’s dessert pastries go? oh wait they’re stuffed in jungkook’s cheeks

most of your days are spent trying to keep jungkook out of trouble rather than actually helping him do anything

jungkook doesn’t do it to be mischievous or anything, it’s mostly because he wants the attention of his older brothers who are all suddenly too busy to pay much attention to him anymore

he doesn’t actually say that but you can tell

he keeps interrupting literally anything they do and yes they love jungkook but it’s hard to work when he’s disrupting everything

jungkook ends up being such a disturbance that he ends up in solitary confinement

seriously

the king has done had it with jungkook, which is rare, and he tells him he needs to stay in his room until he learns how to behave

jungkook whines and complains but then he figures out you’re basically trapped with him so he’s pretty okay

“chess?’ is the first thing he suggests

“is the purpose to get rid of the king?”

and instead of screaming nOOoOOoooOOooooooOOOoo like casey, the resident asshole of my math class, he offers to teach you how to play since you two have like all the time in the world

all the time in the world being until dinner later that evening

you two sit down in the spacious room and he sets up the chess board

the pieces are glass, and they’re so intricate and beautifully carved and you’re so scared that you might break them or something but jungkook reassures you that everything will be okay and that they would want to be used

he tosses you your queen or king and with a wink goes “wow look the chess piece that represents you”

“wow, did jimin teach you that one?”

“yoongi actually”

“wow, impressive”

you can’t help but blush as you set up your pieces though

you still have no idea how to play though, and you sit there kind of dumbly as jungkook poises, ready to move his first piece

“oh, how could i forget?”

he starts going over all the pieces, and how many spaces they can move and how, and how the game actually works and i’m not actually sure because nobody would answer me in math today smh

but then

then he grabs your hand and delicately guides your fingers to move your first piece and now your heart is racing and your face must be red as the draping over his bed but you try to keep it cook because servants can’t just up and fall in love with their princes, that’s not allowed

oops too late i guess…

jungkook is bad at chess because he’s impatient and he doesn’t really like to take much time planning his moves

which is okay in your book because he likes it’s cute to see him get worked up and puff his cheeks out when you take out one of his pieces

i have the ap language exam tomorrow wait a second

he complains and whines and tells you that you’re cheating by distracting him but he just doesn’t like to lose

but he wants you to win because your eyes light up and you get all smiley when you take another one of his pieces and wow he is in love

he is in like, love is a big commitment and hoseok already warned him that their father would be furious if jungkook fell for you, even if he is the favorite son

jungkook told hoseok that nothing like that would ever happen but lol here we are my dudes, here we are

after you crush jungkook in chess, he decides that the next best thing to do to win his honor back is play you in dice

which he also loses at because he likes seeing your smile too much and his honor is something he’s willing to sacrifice if you’re happy in the end

“i’m so sad that i lost, maybe you should make it up to me.” jungkook pouts, flinging himself onto his bed dramatically soon afterward

“well what did you have in mind?”

“tell me a story.”

so you walk over to his bookcase, the one full of tales of old, and reach out to grab the history of war for what has to be the millionth time

but jungkook stops you with a soft, “no, from your head.”

like so many times before he pats the empty seat beside him, and you take your seat, snuggling you back up to the fluffy pillows

you take a deep breath and begin

“there once was a prince in a far away kingdom, with dragons and warlocks and pegauss knights. he was youthful and bright, with eyes like a deer and the curiosity of one too. he had the sweetest smile and the chubbiest cheeks and his nose was too big for his face, but in an endearing, adorable sort of way. the prince was adored by everyone, from his father, to his brothers, to the townspeople. everyone had heard of his skill with a sword, his knowledge of the worlds around him, but mostly his kindness that stretched even to the most lowly of people.”

you expect jungkook to say something saucy in remark but he listens with rapt attention, his gaze focused on you and you alone

“the prince loved everyone, but he couldn’t seem to ever find it in his heart to believe in himself.”

you know this to be true about jungkook

you’ve watched him spend countless hours sparring, and then beating himself up about messing up one move out of seven million, then pick his sword back up to practice once again

you see him as he preens and preps to dress more like yoongi, to walk more like hoseok, to converse more like jimin in the most subtle ways possible

he constantly finds things about himself to pick apart, and it breaks your heart

“the prince was always so busy caring for others, that he forgot to care for himself.”

jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and inhales slowly

you take a deep breath

you close your eyes

and then you take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers

jungkook gives your hand a tight squeeze

the story continues, and then the story soon ends, though jungkook has fallen asleep on your shoulder and will not hear of how the prince and his ever loyal servant end up with the happiest of endings

“and they lived happily ever after.” you whisper, leaning down and kissing the top of his head

you don’t remember drifting off but you sure as heck do, because the next thing you hear is hoseok’s shrieking

like shrieking as in he probably get stabbed and the castle is under attack

you go to get up but there is an arm around your torso and a face buried in your back and you’re finally piecing everything together

“jungkook, you gotta let go-”

another horrified shriek from hoseok

“i mean your highness------”

hoseok runs over to the two of you and shakes jungkook awake

“hurry up, if you two are in love which by the looks of it, you are, there’s only a limited amount of time that i can marry you before father finds out. i may not be ordained, but i could bullshit my way through it”

jungkook pushes himself up groggily and stares down at you because what are you doing here??

oh wait a second

hoseok is pulling at both of your arms but it’s too late, in walks the king, with jimin and yoongi pulling at his arms to try and stop him

the king stares at the scene, at hoseok trying to block to you, at jungkook yawning with his arm still around your waist, at your absolutely horrified face

“jungkook”

“father no, wait-”

“this isn’t your battle to fight hoseok, now leave”

“father, pl-”

“i said LEAVE”

the other three princes scurry out and now it’s just you, jungkook, and the king

he’s an intimidating man, muscular as jungkook, but with a hard face and sharp features

you and jungkook rush to stand up and bow, you avoiding his gaze at all costs

the king walks over and commands you both to stand

you’re trembling now and jungkook holds onto your hand in an attempt to somehow reassure you, but it’s not happening because you feel like you’re about to break down in tears now

the king won’t say anything and it seems like time has frozen completely

but then he pulls jungkook into his arms and hugs him tightly

you’re both in shock to say the least

the king hugs jungkook tighter “my precious son, how you’ve grown”

and then the king pulls you into his arms and now it’s a family hug and you’re wondering why this is happening and how he is okay with this but then you remember that jungkook’s mother was a maid

and suddenly things are starting to make more sense

“father, i… i love them”

“as i’ve noticed my boy.”

jungkook nods and you can see the tears in his eyes, and you can see the tears in his father’s eyes

“i remember when you were first born… you were so small, so helpless… now look at you, pulling the same tricks i did when i first met your mother.”

he ruffles jungkook’s hair and now all of you are laughing softly, at ease at the way the situation played out

hoseok pokes his head in the door “so when’s the wedding?”

yes, there is a wedding

a grand and beautiful wedding to which the entire kingdom is invited to attend

complete with thousands and thousands of flowers

with a giant cake that jimin keeps trying to swipe icing off of

with hoseok sobbing his eyes out and continually trying to pull jungkook into a tight and bone-crushing hug

with yoongi being the one who volunteers to walk you down the aisle

and yes, jungkook is too impatient to figure out just how to put his suit on correctly, sash and all

your hands are shaking as you fix the crown atop his head

and your hands are shaking hours later when he slips the silver band onto your finger

and yes, they are still shaking when you cup his face in your hands and lean in for your first kiss with the boy you are going to spend the rest of your life with

#this boy gets me so soft #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #prince au #bts au #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts writing #bangtan fluff #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook is my lil fluff ball angel baby

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thefoolsfolly · 8 years ago

Text

Lionheart (A Hobbit Fanfiction): Chapter 1

Hey guys! I haven’t had a whole lot of time to write new content lately, so here is one of the first fanfics I have written on Wattpad. It isn’t perfect, since I wrote it a while ago, but it means quite a bit to me. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit, that belongs to the great J. R. R. Tolkein. I do own any new characters and countries you see. I hope you like it! If you guys want, I can upload the rest of the series (2 3/4 Books worth). Let me know!

-Vega

The curious hobbit looked on as the mysterious woman dismounted her horse. The horse was huge compared to him. It had beautiful black fur and was dappled with unusual white speckles. The woman's cowl was up and all the hobbit could see of her features was the long black waves that cascaded around her shoulders. She walked over to the hobbit that worked in the stables at the Inn that they were currently in. She towered over the young hobbit, who shrunk back slightly in fear. He could see a kind smile on the woman's face, under the dark blue hood and the small fellow relaxed slightly.

"Could you take good care of Polaris for me while I'm gone? We have had quite the long journey." she said. The woman was somewhat shorter than an elf or a human, and she was considerably taller than the hobbit she was talking to. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Will you not be staying here the night, my lady?" the small hobbit squeaked. Again the woman smiled and bent down so that she was almost level with the intimidated hobbit.

"No, my dear hobbit. I have made other arrangements. Though, I would appreciate it if you could tend to my horse until I return for her tomorrow morning."

Her voice was calm and smooth, and the hobbit was almost at ease. That changed instantly, once he saw the great sword that was fastened to the strange woman's belt. Slung around her shoulder was a quiver full of arrows and a bow. The hobbit's eyes widened and he nodded hastily, not wanting to anger the dangerous woman in any way. She frowned slightly at the hobbit's reaction. She didn't like to scare innocent people like the hobbit before her. Though, now that she was in the Shire, it would be all too easy to frighten its peaceful inhabitants. Sighing, she handed the hobbit his money, twice what anyone would usually pay, as her steed was so much larger than the small fellow would usually deal with. The hobbit's eyes widened in surprise at the weight of the small leather pouch in his hand.

"Why thank you miss! I will indeed take excellent care of urr... Polaris, is it?" the hobbit said excitedly. He was already thinking of how many ways that he could spend the extra money. Perhaps on a fine cake from the Baker's shop down the street. The woman's laughter snapped him out of his thoughts.

"It is my pleasure. Polaris be good. We don't need a repeat of what happened in Bree, do we?"

Her intelligent horse snorted in reply. It was if she were saying 'I cannot make any promises.'

The woman chuckled at the sight of the young hobbit's terrified face as she walked out of the Inn. Her black leather boots made little noise as she walked down the dirt road and began her search. The sun was beginning to set bellow the green hills of the Shire as the woman walked. It was truly a beautiful country, but the woman would not be staying long. She was thoroughly spent from the day's hard riding. On top of that, her jaw ached from her unpleasant encounter earlier that day. The woman would not have much time to rest, if she knew the company that she was seeking out. The dwarves were quite the rowdy bunch. She almost pitied the poor fool who had decided to host them. The young woman smiled at the thought of her good friends. She hadn't seen them in quite a while. Now if only she could find the blasted place that they were to stay in. At last she saw the blue rune glowing on the rich green door of a hobbit hole. She smiled and walked through the gate to meet her friends.

At that moment, Bilbo Baggins was certainly pitying himself. His house was infested with the blasted dwarves, whom he still had no idea why they were there. He looked up at Gandalf the Grey, who was bent forward, as not to hit his head off of the low ceiling. He began to count the dwarves that were rushing past, raiding Bilbo's precious pantry.

"Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori...." the great wizard muttered as he watched Bilbo try to wrestle a bowl of tomatoes out of Nori's hands. Bifur approached Gandalf and said something that few others could possibly understand.

"Yes, you are quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf and a bender short."

"He is late is all. He travelled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come." Dwalin cut in. The big, burly dwarf was one of Thorin's closest friends. Another dwarf, this one slightly smaller and with dark hair and eyes, approached the aging wizard. He was visibly concerned. His golden-haired brother was not far behind and was sharing the same look.

"Yes, but it is unlike her to be late." Kili said, exchanging a worried look with Fili.

"Reyna? I thought that she was traveling with you two." Bofur said. The two brothers shook their heads, sending their long locks flying.

"No. She had some business to attend to back in Hopefalls." Fili explained, referring to their friend's home capital. Dori handed Gandalf a tiny glass of wine just in time for him to hear a knock on the door.

He turned around too fast and he smacked his head off of the chandelier, sending it swinging wildly on it's chain. The wizard quickly steadied it. He heard Bilbo grumble to himself as he went to open the door, trying to keep the many dwarves from completely ransacking his pantry on the way. The hobbit flung open the door and his grumblings immediately ceased at the sight of the young woman before him. She was much taller than himself, but shorter than Gandalf. The girl was wearing a dark blue hood and shirt along with black breaches and boots. She had both a bow and quiver, and a sword on her person. Not many women in the Shire would be seen dressed in such a fashion. She removed her hood and smiled down at the hobbit. Her sapphire-blue eyes were kind and calm. Her long black waves hung freely around her shoulders. The only imperfections that Bilbo could see on her beautiful face were the dark purple bruises on her jaw and a cut on her forehead. Both injuries looked fairly recent. The woman held out her hand to the hobbit, who shook it. She smiled when she saw the flustered look on the hobbit's face, because of the chaos the dwarves were causing behind him.

"I'm Reyna Stormbringer. You must be our host. Am I right to assume that you were not aware of what you were getting yourself into?" she asked kindly. Realizing that he had been staring, the hobbit hastily shook his head.

"Yes, yes quite right. Bilbo Baggins." he replied. Unlike the dwarves, Reyna waited for Bilbo to invite her inside. She did not poke fun at the overwhelmed hobbit, but smiled in an amused fashion down at him. The confused hobbit had grown so accustomed to the dwarves' rudeness, that it took him a moment to realize what was going on.

"Oh, yes, right. Come on in." Bilbo said, once he had his wits about him. Reyna smiled and stepped gracefully around the hobbit. She did not have to duck, but her head was dangerously close to the hobbit's chandelier. As soon as Kili saw the young woman step inside, he shoved what he had been carrying into Gloin's already-full arms. He approached Reyna, his brother not far behind. They both had wide grins spread across their faces. The two had grown close to the girl and had missed her.

"Reyna." The younger brother said and embraced the young woman. Fili saw her wince over his brother's shoulder and frowned. Kili released her and the two finally noticed the bruises on their friend's face. His grin instantly melted into a look of concern.

"Rey, what happened?" Fili asked.

"Oh, you know. The orcs just adore me." Reyna replied sarcastically. The brothers' eyes widened.

"Orcs!" Kili said, just a little to loud. Reyna flinched as every dwarf present halted whatever they were doing at the sound of the word. They all turned to face the three and Bilbo watched as every single one of them, down to the toughest dwarf, grinned.

"Reyna!" they chorused and rushed all at once at her. Dwalin pulled Reyna into a hug, his huge arms almost crushing her already-battered body. He released the girl and every dwarf greeted her. She then unbuckled her cloak and was about to hang it up, when Gandalf approached her.

"Reyna Stormbringer. It's good to see you...." Gandalf said, trailing off when he saw her bruises.

"What on Middle Earth happened to you?" he asked, his deep voice concerned. All the dwarves watched and waited for the answer. Reyna smiled, though she was visibly tired.

"That, my dear wizard, will have to wait until our leader arrives."

That earned much grumbling and complaints from the dwarves. They eventually went about their business, ransacking poor Bilbo's pantry. Reyna just chuckled and went to hang up her cloak.

"I can take care of that for you, miss." Bilbo offered. She smiled down at the hobbit, but declined the offer.

"Thank you Master Baggins, but I am perfectly capable of hanging up my own cloak." she said, not unkindly. The hobbit was taken aback.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure." he rushed. Bilbo watched as she hung up her coat and went to join her friends at the long table in the dining room. She was unlike any woman that Bilbo had ever seen.

He peeked into his pantry and scowled when he saw that there was not a crumb remaining.

"Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!" he cried, quite frustrated at that point.

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked, looking down at the frazzled hobbit.

"What's the matter? I'm surrounded by dwarves! What are they doing here?"

Gandalf skillfully skirted around the question, as he usually did.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them."

Behind them, Nori and Bofur began wrestling for a link of sausages.

"I don't want to get used to them! The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged my pantry. I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" Bilbo ranted. When he did not get a reply from Gandalf, he skulked into the dining room. He sat in a chair a bit removed from the rest of the group. The small fellow watched as Kili and Fili had a drinking contest, Reyna laughing hard as they did so. Bilbo got up as he saw Balin, the elder of the company pass by.

"What is she? An elf or a human?" Bilbo asked Balin. The elder dwarf looked back at him, confused for a moment. When he realized who Bilbo was talking about, he smiled widely.

"Reyna? I suppose that you could call her a human. But she's actually a Bender." the older dwarf replied, sitting down next to the hobbit. Bilbo's eyes widened.

"Benders? They actually exist?" Bilbo asked in wonder. He had thought that the legends of people that controlled the elements were just that.

"Oh, they are real alright. Though there are far fewer of them now." Balin chuckled at Bilbo's expression.

"Why is she here then? Isn't she supposed to be protecting her own people?" the hobbit asked, curiously. Balin sighed and made himself more comfortable in his chair. It would be a long story.

"Reyna's people live on the coast, bordering Lindon. Their country's name is Ibilissa. Her people are called The Guardians of Middle Earth, by their friends of course. Their enemies have much less flattering names for them. Their army is divided into two divisions; those that stay in the country, and those that leave to serve in others. Reyna took the road less traveled by and went to serve in whatever country she was needed in. That's how she met Thorin and the others."

Balin paused and watched as Reyna dodged a piece of cheese that was thrown by Fili.

"Never have met a better woman. Unfortunately though, her tale isn't a happy one." Balin said sadly.

When he saw Bilbo's puzzled face, he sighed and continued.

"Her people call her Leonisanimum, or Lionheart. This is a term of very high respect. Her people value bravery and courage above all else. No one else has ever earned that title. And never have I seen anyone more deserving of it. Reyna is a fine warrior, though she comes about it very humbly. She is selfless, almost to a fault. Reyna has protected many people. In the process, she has gained many enemies. Thorin and the rest of us would trust her with our lives. This is why she is accompanying us."

Bilbo took this new information in, seeing the young girl in a completely different light.

"But she's so... young." he said.

"Aye, she is. Her people age much slower than normal men. Though, even amongst men, she is young. It is a shame that she has chosen a path that will not allow her to live to be old and happy."

Bilbo was about to ask the older dwarf what he meant, but got distracted by the hissing sound of the dwarves rubbing the silverware together.

"Can-can you not do that? You'll blunt them!" Bilbo cried. Kili had been throwing plates at his brother, who was stationed by the sink. Bilbo watched with a look of horror as his plates came dangerously low to the ground.

"Ooh, d'hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives." Bofur taunted the poor hobbit. Reyna stood near the wall. She tried to stay out of the dwarves' shenanigans, but more often than not, she was forced to dodge flying plates and get them back up in the air when they got too close to the ground. The Bender carefully kicked one that would've crashed into the ground over at Kili, who grinned at her. He began to sing, the other dwarves joining in.

Blunt the knives, bend the forks, Smash the bottles and burn the corks, Chip the glasses and crack the plates, THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!

Of course, the dwarves never actually carried out the actions that their song described. But it gave poor Bilbo a good scare. Reyna's eyes widened at a plate that was about to hit the floor, just to the left of Kili, who wouldn't reach it in time. She dived, and to Bilbo's immense relief, caught the plate just in time. The dwarves cheered and Reyna carefully tossed the plate at Kili, who caught it with ease.

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, Leave the bones on the bedroom mat, Pour the milk on the pantry floor, Splash wine on every door, Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, Pound them up with a thumping pole, When you've finished, if any are whole, Send them down the hall to roll, THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!

The dwarves finally finished their song and erupted into laughter. The laughter immediately died away when they heard the knock on the door. Everyone stood up and all were silent.

"He is here." Gandalf said somberly. He, Reyna and little Bilbo went to the door. They opened it and there indeed stood Thorin Oakenshield. Reyna gave him a small smile as he entered Bilbo's home.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for the mark on the door." Thorin said. Reyna laughed, and the tension that had been present moments before began to dissipate.

"As did I, Thorin." Reyna said. Despite himself, the serious dwarf gave her a small smile. Their attention went to Bilbo as he spoke.

"Mark? There's no mark on the door. It was painted a week ago!"

Gandalf rolled his eyes in exasperation, something he found himself doing quite often in the presence of the company.

"There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin looked at the hobbit, obviously sizing him up. Reyna took a step towards the small fellow protectively. Thorin noticed this movement and furrowed his eyebrows at the young woman. He then returned his attention back to the hobbit by her side.

"So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

The hobbit looked back at the dwarf, confused. He did not understand that Thorin's words were meant to be a test. Reyna frowned, sensing what was about to come.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked. Thorin quickly went on, disregarding the hobbit's comment.

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin asked. Bilbo scrambled for a valid response, while trying to keep his confident appearance. He failed.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that's relevant..." Bilbo said. Reyna shook her head in embarrassment for the hobbit. She knew that Thorin was about to humiliate him in his own house.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

And there it was. The dwarves laughed. Reyna already felt protective of the small hobbit. She felt bad for the little fellow, who's face had fallen. The Bender glared at Thorin, her sapphire-blue eyes darkening. She had been carefully honing the glare for years, until it was a very frightening sight. Even the tough dwarf in front of her reacted to it. His smirk disappeared instantly. Very few people would dare give Thorin Oakenshield a look like that. But Thorin knew that it would be very dangerous, even deadly, to anger the young Bender. She then rounded and glared at the others, who stopped laughing. Kili's eyes widened, as he knew Reyna well. He and his brother were very wary of that look. The dwarves went silently back into the dining room. Reyna put a hand on the embarassed hobbit's shoulder.

"Don't mind them, Bilbo. Their barks are worse than their bites." she told him quietly. The hobbit smiled up at her appreciatively. They then followed the others into the room. The dwarves had left a seat open for Reyna, next to Thorin, who was eating.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked, across the table from Reyna.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." Thorin informed them. The other dwarves muttered amongst themselves happily. Reyna gave a small smile.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" Dwalin asked. Everyone present went silent, awaiting Thorin's response. He looked down at his supper, having lost his appetite.

"They will not come."

The other dwarves muttered in disappointment and Reyna looked over at Thorin, concerned. She knew exactly what that meant for their quest. He returned her gaze, his dark eyes worried.

"They say that this is our quest, and ours alone." he continued.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked, the answer rather obvious. Gandalf sent him off in search of a candle, to provide more light. When the hobbit returned, Gandalf pulled out a map from under his grey robes. He laid the map out on the table and Thorin looked at it, surprised.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

Bilbo got closer and looked at the yellowing map.

"The Lonely Mountain." he murmured in wonder.

"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time." Gloin stated, gaining everyone's attention.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." Oin added.

"Yes, but at what cost?" Reyna said quietly. Everyone stared a her, but their attention was then diverted to Bilbo.

"Uh, what beast?"

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals-" Bofur's words were cut off by a hard punch in the arm, courtesy of Reyna.

"Ouch!" he muttered. She ignored him. He had a tendency of going too far when describing things.

"I think all of us here know what a dragon is, Bofur." she said. The others snickered, even Thorin. The company's heads snapped towards the youngest of them as he jumped out of his seat.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" Ori exclaimed enthusiastically. There was much shouting and Dori dragged the young dwarf back into his seat.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just 13, and not 13 of the best, nor brightest." Balin said, glancing in Ori's direction as he said the last part. His statement earned several shouts of protest from the others.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, down to the last dwarf!" Fili exclaimed.

"And you forget, we have a Bender in our company, along with a wizard. Rey could send that fire right back up that dragon's throat! And Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time." Kili added. Reyna's eyes widened at his statement and Gandalf began to look very nervous.

"Oh, well, now, uh, I-I wouldn't say that I-" Gandlaf protested, only to be cut off by Dori.

"How many, then?" he demanded.

"Uh, what?" Gandalf asked, growing even more uneasy.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!" Dori shouted. Gandalf choked on the pipe smoke that he had been inhaling, beginning to cough. Chaos erupted around him, as every dwarf present began to shout at one another. Reyna went pale as Gloin asked her if Kili's statement was true. It was unfair of him to put her on the spot, after her last experience with dragons. Only Thorin knew the girl's full story and he became increasingly angry as the bickering went on. He finally jumped up and slammed his fists against the table, silencing everyone.

"Shazara (Silence)! If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to reclaim Erebor?" Thorin shouted, his deep voice echoing through the halls of the little Hobbit Hole. The dwarves cheered and Reyna smiled slightly, still recovering from the dwarf's question.

"You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain." Balin spoke up. Gandalf reached into his robes, once again, and pulled out a metal key.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Thorin looked at the key in shock and wonder.

"How came you by this?" Thorin asked in awe. Gandalf went on to explain that Thrain, Thorin's father, had given it to him.

"If there's a key, then there must be a door." Fili pointed out. The others began to grin at the new hope, however small it might've been

"These runes speak of a hidden passage in the lower halls." Gandalf confirmed, pointing to the old map.

"There's another way in!" Kili exclaimed, a grin painted on his face.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done." Gandalf told the dwarves, who were listening intently.

"That's why we need a burglar." Ori said.

"Hm, a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine." Bilbo said, and he was then made the center of attention. Reyna sat up straight, sensing that something was about to come the small hobbit's way.

"And are you?" Gloin asked. Bilbo looked at him, thoroughly confused.

"Am I what?" he asked.

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Oin said. Bilbo immediately started to protest and Reyna was on the edge of her seat, ready to defend the hobbit if needed. It was a forced habit of hers.

"M-me? No, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life." Bilbo said hastily.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Balin said.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight, nor fend for themselves." Dwalin added. Bilbo nodded in agreement, though he didn't know whether to be offended or not. The dwarves began to argue once again. Gandalf rose to his full height and the lights dimmed.

"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Gandalf yelled angrily. Reyna had been pushed past her breaking point for the day and her eyes began to glow white, her powers would not be far behind. Thorin and the others backed up quickly at the sight, knowing that Reyna was now extremely dangerous. Gandalf's tone softened when he saw the nervous Bender.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fifteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearance suggests, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this." Gandalf persuaded. The white glow in Reyna's eyes began to fade and Thorin placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

"Very well. We will do it your way." Thorin relented.

"No, no, no." Bilbo muttered.

"Give him the contract." Thorin said, despite the hobbit's protests.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." Balin said, handing Bilbo the extensive contract.

"Funeral arrangements?" he muttered in alarm. As Bilbo began to read, Thorin leaned over to Gandalf.

"I cannot guarantee his safety." he said. Reyna picked up on what they were saying and frowned.

"Understood." Gandalf said.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate." Thorin continued.

"But you have my word that I will try my damned best to keep him safe." Reyna added quietly. The two looked at her. They understood to what lengths she spoke of. When Reyna vowed ot protect someone, she would do so, regardless of the cost.

"Agreed." Gandalf said somberly. They returned their attention back to Bilbo, who was reading the contract aloud.

"Eh, present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including, but not limited to lacerations..." The hobbit's eyes widened and he looked terrified.

"Evisceration... laceration... incineration?" poor Bilbo said, becoming short of breath.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bofur said, his thick accent obvious. Reyna shot the dwarf a warning look, but if Bofur noticed it, he did not respond to it.

"Huh?"

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked the small hobbit.

"Uh yeah... Feel a bit faint." Bilbo responded.

"Think furnace with wings." Bofur continued. Reyna got up out of her chair as another warning to the dwarf, but he continued on.

"Air, I-I-I need air." Bilbo gasped.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ashes." Bofur finished. This comment caused Reyna to lose her patience. She smacked Bofur in the back of his head and started shouting at him in a language that Bilbo did not understand. But, apparently the dwarves did understand Reyna's words, as they burst out laughing. Bofur looked afraid and slightly ashamed.

"What- what did she say?" Bilbo asked, trying to regain his composure. Kili answered with a smirk on his face.

"She said: 'If you do not learn when to shut your mouth, I will shut it for you." and 'Dragonfire is nothing to joke about.' The rest does not need to be translated..."

Bilbo thought that he had regained his wits about him, but he began to feel faint again. Reyna took a step towards the hobbit, her ranting done.

"Bilbo..." she murmured, expression softening.

"No." he said and then collapsed. Reyna managed to catch him in time and she glared at Bofur, who shrugged.

They left the hobbit in the living room to recover, Gandalf staying to make sure that he was okay. The dwarves and Reyna sat outside of the room. They were silent until they heard Gandalf exclaim:

"You've been sitting quietly for far to long!"

They did not hear the rest of the conversation, but when Bilbo walked out without the contract, they gathered that he had refused to accompany them.

"It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers. Hardly the stuff of legend." Balin said, form his position beside Thorin. Thorin looked up at the aging dwarf and gave him a rare smile.

"There are a few warriors amongst us."

"Old warriors." Balin replied, shaking his head.

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves, and our Bender, over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that." Thorin replied. Balin grew serious.

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all of the gold in Erebor."

Thorin adopted a look of determination, pulling the key out of his pocket.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice Balin, not for me."

Balin smiled at the dwarf that had many times over earned his respect.

"Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

The dwarves moved into the living room that had recently been vacated by Bilbo. Reyna sat down near Thorin and he smiled at her. He had noticed the bruises on her face as soon as he came in, but hadn't said anything to the young Bender. She had an urgent expression as she faced Thorin.

"Starting the quest off already injured, eh?" he teased. Reyna shook her head and smiled.

"Injured? Please Thorin, you know that I've had far worse." she retorted. Her eyes then darkened.

"Thorin... It was orcs." she said. Her words gained every dwarf's (And Gandalf's) attention.

"Orcs?" Thorin asked, his face had lost it's amused expression and he was now grim.

"Yes. They are gathering, in numbers that we have not seen in years. I was attacked, just today. They were about a day's ride out. Polaris and I had to push the pace, to put as much distance between us and the place where we were attacked as possible." the young bender explained. The room was eerily silent. Gandalf approached her, looking wary and troubled.

"How many were there in the group, Reyna?" the aging wizard asked.

"About 40. Something's happening Gandalf. I sense an old evil is starting to stir." Reyna said, her eyes now looked dark as the night sky. Gandalf somberly nodded in agreement.

"I'm afraid you're right."

"Do you suggest that we abandon our quest?" Thorin asked angrily. The dwarves muttered nervously to each other. A fight between Reyna and Thorin would not be a pretty sight. Reyna grew angry, but kept her powers and emotions under tight control. A bender's powers could easily be triggered.

"Not at all. I'm suggesting that we take care, and be wary. With the rising danger, I fear that an angry dragon will not be the only thing we must face." the Bender replied, as calmly as she could manage. The room once again lapsed into silence once more. Thorin rose from his chair and stood by the fireplace. He then began to sing, the other dwarves joining in, their deep voices created a haunting melody. Reyna knew the song well, but she did not join in, for it was not her song to sing. Bilbo sat outside of the living room, listening as the tune echoed through his halls.

Far over the misty mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold, The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night, The fire was red it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light.

The dwarves finished their song and Bilbo got up from his position outside of the room and went to his bedroom. The dwarves began to settle in. Reyna sat in between Kili and Fili on a sofa. The others either sat in the remaining chairs or sat against the walls. There was soft talking amongst them, and sleep claimed most of them. Fili began to snore softly and Reyna nodded off. Her head fell on Kili's chest, and he started at first. He then smiled down at her and put his arm around her. Eventually he nodded off as well and Thorin, Gandalf and Balin were the only ones who remained awake.

"They've grown quite close." Thorin said to Balin as they watched the three on the couch. Both Thorin and Balin had small smiles painted across their faces. They cared deeply for the two young dwarves and the Bender.

"They have. And it's a good thing. It's nice for the lads to have someone around their age to talk and fight alongside with." Balin answered quietly, as not to wake the others. They were silent for a moment.

"She loves him, doesn't she?" Thorin said, referring to Reyna and Kili. Balin nodded sadly.

"Yes. But he's all but oblivious to it."

"Well, let us hope that his eyes open soon, before she's gone." Thorin said, watching the two's peaceful faces. Balin nodded in agreement. Soon, not one person remained awake inside Bag End, and they all dreamed of their oncoming adventure. However, they did know how much trouble they would soon encounter.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #kili #fili #the company #fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction

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