#druid writes

[druidshollow]

Wandering Aimlessly with Everlasting Joy and Many Small Flowers, One Quick Glance debate Eleven Rivers' health, and what should be done about it.

(this is an iterator logs-style thing I wrote for my oc lore- i havent finished it but im posting it anyways lmao) ((cw for ableist language))

MSF: I call upon the Act of Indecision.

WAEJ: Wait-

MSF: I have no intention of changing my stance, and it seems neither does Wandering Aimlessly with Everlasting Joy. I propose we bring it to vote. Unless Wander wants to change his mind?

WAEJ: No. If it needs to come to the act, then so be it.

?: What say the rest of the Council?

?: If the act has been called, then it is law.

WAEJ: Before we vote please consider the morality of this situation- we are all aware of the emotional intelligence of the iterators. What would Eleven Rivers say?

MSF: Self-preservation is natural instinct, he could only be expected to disagree with this decision. As their parents, we must make these difficult decisions for them. I am closer to Rivers than anyone else. I can assure you all that he is suffering, with no evidence of getting any better.

WAEJ: There is- just a moment- here. There is evidence that unstable neuron disease is treatable, that there are ways to ease their suffering and even decrease their memory loss. This research by Flight to the Sun, Homeward Descent and A Fleck of Flame prove this. Please, look it over.

MSF: ...I am just as aware of Flight to the Sun, Homeward Descent's research as the rest of you. We have tried these methods with Eleven Rivers. Here- records of the memory arrays reformat of 1233.864. His memory remains just as spotty as before, if not worse. This chart shows the increase in lapses of thought- something quite traumatic for an iterator to endure.

MSF: They were created with such incredible neural networks, minds we cannot even hope to comprehend living with. For a being of their status, holding thousands of memories and tens of trains of thought at once are entirely normal. For these thoughts to be interrupted is mortifying for them. When Rivers is shocked, for a moment, there is near nothing.

WAEJ: This is a symptom of UND. All iterators ailed with it experience this.

MSF: Of course. But Eleven Rivers is especially distressed by it. He has been more moody and aggressive since he's been getting worse.

?: Aggressive?

MSF: In his conduct with his group. I would think Wandering Aimlessly with Everlasting Joy would agree, having seen how he speaks to Glass Incident.

WAEJ: ...It is true that Glass has been uncomfortable with him.

MSF: He is lashing out, disturbing his group. If you will look at this chart here, I have graphed the increase in shocks and, in neuron fly analysis, the increase in anger. It is my belief that his suffering is only being exasperated, and that he will only grow increasingly aggressive.

?: Do you think Eleven Rivers could be a threat to the rest of his group?

MSF: I believe so, if not directly than indirectly.

WAEJ: Taboo law protects us, and protects his group as well. When he and the twins quarrel we split them up. Yes, it is true that his symptoms are worsening, and yes, he is growing more frustrated, but if what Many Small Flowers, One Quick Glance has demonstrated supports anything, it's the fact that he is triggered by his suffering! As their parents it is our duty to eleviate that pain!

MSF: He's treatment resistant. I've demonstrated that, if you've been paying attention.

WAEJ: It doesn't make sense. It's a science, Flowers, on a base level they are all the same!

MSF: I've never seen Glass Incident lose herself in a shocking fit before.

?: Your professionalism, please, you two.

MSF: Apologies, High Councilmen.

MSF: The depth of my argument is in the fact that Eleven Rivers has been resistant to every attempt I've made to help him. Here's another record- a partial neuron fly reset from the date 1229.236. The same as my last example was documented- brief improvement followed by a heavy decline.

?: We see he is being disturbed by his flies more and more. What is causing this increase in active UND symptoms?

MSF: The hardest part. We do not know.

WAEJ: There are teams working on finding the source of his new symptoms. They have only been at it for two major cycles.

?: That is a long time, in the smaller scheme of things.

MSF: Perhaps it would help relax you all to the idea if I demonstrated how his shut-down would work. If I may.

MSF: These are the blueprints for the Demolishers. They are designed to be as efficient as possible. It will only take 60 minor cycles for the demolition to be complete if we deploy fifteen Demolishers. Eleven Rivers will feel no pain. His power will be shut off beforehand, all his neural processes cancelled, and his puppet will be removed beforehand, as a sign of respect. He will wake right up again, perhaps as something easier done by.

WAEJ: This isn't what he would want. It's wrathful to end his life without him ever even knowing.

MSF: Wrathful? I am only concerned with his and all the other corners' well-being.

[min0uze]

Xenk tries his best to answer Ed's question 😌🪱💕

[bisclavret]

you're telling me bbc merlin has an episode called The Secret Sharer where everything revolves around a bunch of characters digging around for merlin's secret identity and gwaine is there for no reason other than to beg merlin to trust him again and proves himself worthy of that trust by turning his back on his knightly duties and doing everything to help merlin even though they might be saving a traitor for all gwaine knows and then merlin literally does magic in front of him and they even kinda acknowledge it by shrugging at each other and this still doesn't count as a magic reveal and they all just go back to their stupid little ignorant lives in camelot after that. do i have that right? ok. so first of all this show is a cheap farce but we knew that. second of all. Gwaine Knows. obviously

[queenie-the-court-jester]

A devil in disguise

Yandere fantasy ocs x gn reader

They're not really yandere in this fic, I'm saving that for later

Tw: none that I can think of, not proofread 🌺

⭐you were just an ordinary villager. Living in a cottage you Inherited, making a living by owning a bakery in the nearby village. You didn't think there was anything appealing about you. Nothing making you stand out. Well, the villagers thought differently. It was mainly filled with different mythical races, making you the only human.

⭐one day you were setting up shop like always, a suitor or two trying to get your attention when suddenly screams could be heard from outside. Rushing to see what was the commotion, a young.. girl? Man? Was fighting off a horde of wild goblins. Littering the ground with their little bodies. They fought valiantly, slashing one after the other.

⭐in the end they came out victorious, but heavily injured. You herded the other villagers away, a bar maiden helping you pick up the adventurer and taking them to your little bakery. She set them down and quickly left as you looked for your first aid, carefully cleaning up the blood and grime off their face.

⭐you did end up requiring to remove their clothing to better patch them up, sincerely hoping they wouldn't feel uncomfortable once they woke up. You stayed overnight in the bakery since your cottage was pretty far and you didn't want to leave the newcomer alone. The sound of fabric rustling woke you up.

⭐ lifting your gaze upwards, you were met with big green eyes staring into your own, faces inches apart. Their blonde hair was messy and a strand draped across their face. They reached a hand out, and booped your nose before pulling away. Intently observing the room.

"uhm.. thank you for fighting off those feral goblins. What is your name, sir or ma'am..?"

"Gideon. What is your name, lovely?"

"y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you"

⭐Gideon thanked you repeatedly and offered to help you out for a bit. You agreed, and with the time they spent with you,you learned they were a he. They didn't mind any pronouns, just that they were born amab.

"you see. I was on my way here to wait for my friends when I noticed those nasty green bastards hiding in the bushes. I couldn't just let those vermin attack such a lovely village."

"you're very brave Gideon.. I wish I knew how to swing a sword"

"I can teach you, if you'd like my dear"

⭐ Gideon shows you the basics of wielding a sword, he offered to show you how to hunt game aswell. The first hunt came out.. interesting. He'll have to make you exercise with him daily from now on.

⭐2 weeks have passed now, Gideon was helping you bring groceries into your cottage when you heard a loud yelling coming from not too far away

"GIDEON!? IS THAT YOU?"

⭐ turning around, you spot a girl who seems to be your age standing a few feet away. She seemed tired yet so elated. Gideon set down the basket carrying the vegetables and quickly rushed over to her

"darling! Oh there you are! Where are the others? Are you alright? You're not hurt are you?"

⭐the girl waved off his worrying, about to say something when suddenly she turned her attention to you

"Wow.. well hello there gorgeous~"

⭐the girl walked up to you, wiggling her eyebrows and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You could only stare at her and laugh in mild amusement. After Gideon thoroughly disciplined her on why she shouldn't flirt with people she doesn't know, you learned that their entire party were on their way to recollect him.

⭐so now you had 2 roommates. It was pretty fun, they helped with chores and kept you company. Darling seemed to really like your bakery, helping every chance she could. They enjoyed being with you, you were so much fun! They knew they'd have to leave as soon as the others came, so One night, the two waited for you to go to sleep. Talking outside near a pond, a bit far away from the cottage

"I don't know Gideon.. they're not exactly built for adventuring with us.."

"yes.. but you weren't built for this life either. We trained you. And we can do the same for our little y/n. They already knows the basics, We'll just need to convince them before the others arrive"

⭐and that's what they did. For the next three days, they kept pestering you to join their party. So don't worry, they'll train you. Aren't you tired of this boring life? Don't you wanna explore? Just find someone to run your bakery for you until you come back!

⭐and that's how you ended up here. Catching a ride on ogmund, the party's barbarian tank. You were happily chatting away, braiding his hair while you were at it. He told you all about his tribe, orc traditions, his past adventures. You nodded along, adding input every now and then

⭐darling was walking alongside you both, chewing on something, you don't know what, and holding ogmund's hand. The orc seemed use to the girls touchy nature. Darling was the party's druid. Specializing in healing and natural magic. Her little ears would twitch, with the occasional flick of her tail. Panther hybrids were so cute.

⭐Gideon was the party's paladin, you remembered they told you about their reasoning for choosing this life. As a boy his family was slaughtered, leaving only him and his younger sibling rougé Alive. Their mothers were brothel workers while their father was the owner. Don't ask them about their family.

⭐rougé was the party's bard. They were a half elf, like their brother and very flirty and touchy with whoever they deemed as a fun pick. Darling seemed to be their main target since she gets easily flustered. You had the sneaking suspicion they often slept together with how their physical affections towards her seemed too intimate. The only reason they didn't come after you so often was because they didn't ogmund to snap their spine in half

⭐mikal was the party's sorcerer. A stubborn little prick, proud and haughty. Just give him a good thwack on the head and he'll shut up. Once, you you were playing with his hair and he stood rigid the entire time. Simply nodding when you'd compliment his beautiful silver locks. It contrasted well with his near black skin. Who knew dark elves were so sexy? (Fucking everyone)

⭐venus was the party's cleric, and boy, darling had massive beef with him. For what reason? You don't know, they just really fucking hated eachother. Venus, out of everyone, was the most reserved. It'll take you a whole to tear down his walls but you'll get there eventually.

⭐from what the party told you, you were on your way to save a couple friends. You were practically buzzing with excitement, your first real adventure! Maybe you'd find a fighting class that suits you best while you're at it.

⭐ blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes staring at you from stop the trees..

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[volatilemask]

you know how it is

[songofsoma]

can’t believe i never posted the commission i got of karlach and daefina from the talented @b0zart i’m still so in love with it

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Solar Futhark

Dreamling (Solarpunk Urban Fantasy AU) | Rated E | 8.2k words | complete

CW: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Solarpunk, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Drow!Dream, Druid!Dream, Half-elf!Hob, GunslingerBard!Hob, investigators, work partners, partners to lovers, banter, temporary bodyswap, being captured, held prisoner together, starvation, tied together, confessions under duress, love confessions, soulmates, mates, escape, prison break, animal transformation, possessive Dream, matriarchal drow society, subjugated male drow, male gestation, male pregnancy, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of platonic soulmates, Dream has a cock and a cunt, pussy eating champion Hob Gadling, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal fingering, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, vaginal sex, anal fingering, hair-pulling, rough sex, cum slut Dream, sex magic, Hob probably has a copy of the Belmont Book of Penis Spells, large cock, multiple orgasms, discussion of fisting, happy ending

(AO3 hates me right now, so I will post this there later.)

Hob cackles as he tucks the large hourglass under his arm and fucking runs.

“Oh, what the hell…” Dream drops the vase of flowers he had been planning on using as an improvised weapon and takes off after his partner. A partner who is rapidly climbing the rankings for stupidest sentient being Dream has ever known. “Gadling! What in the name of every god extant and extinct do you think you are doing?”

The half-elf startles for just a moment as Dream easily catches up to him despite his head start and the crowded market streets. “This is evidence, right?”

At this rate Dream is going to pull a muscle rolling his eyes at Hob. “We do not steal evidence! I do not have the least idea of where you learned how to be an investig–”

“Pirates!” He chirrups happily, skidding around a corner as horns start to sound the alarm throughout the resonant underground halls of the Duergar city.

The answer is so absurd that Dream is struck speechless. 

Then a rumble sounds to their right and it has Dream reaching across Hob's chest to grab his gun in its shoulder holster under his duster. Luckily the gun and the hourglass are not under the same arm, because Dream is completely out of spells, both divine and arcane. He jumps ahead up the stairs and twists, taking two shots at their pursuers and grinning when he hears a shout of explicatives.

Another set of stairs, then they are scrambling up a wall, grabbing the bottom rung of a camouflaged ladder, and are back in the surface’s sewers before the next round of horns sound. Dream slides the cover over the secret entrance and breathes a sigh of relief as, with a golden shimmer, it seals itself once again.

Panting and apparently completely uncaring of the state of the water around their feet, Hob drops to his arse with a thud. Little bits of duckweed and algae slop up onto Dream’s boots.

“We should keep moving.” Dream scowls at his footwear as he also breathes in huge, heaving gulps. “We don't know the power of their artificers and–”

“Don't have ‘em,” Hob shakes his head. “It made bartering for certain items with them a total crapcircus because they didn't value the same basic material goods. Everything they do is mechanical. Non-magic. Luckily we didn't get stuck down there often.” Dream just stares at him; theoretically those are all common words, but fuck if he parses their meaning right now with the adrenaline crash just starting to take its toll. Hob smirks, lopsided and definitely not charming. Absolutely not. “Pirates, remember?”

He feels a headache coming on and so pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you actually trying to tell me that before joining the Houndsguild you were a Hawkshaw?”

“Uh… yes?” Hob blinks at him as if Dream is the one asking the dumb question. “Thirteen years. Is that so hard to believe?”

Dream just stares. If this half-elf was a Hawkshaw, one of the pirate codekeepers (the closest to lawmen such outlaws might ever get), then there is so much more here to uncover, so much more to Hob, that he isn't even sure where to start. Hob drops back down in Dream's mental rankings of stupidity. Dream breathes out and now, a little calmer, some of Hob's behaviors slot into place. The impulsivity. The recklessness. The charisma to get himself out of just about any problem caused by said impulsivity and recklessness. “No, actually, now that I think of it. It makes some sense.”

The smile that brightens Hob's face is also extremely not charming. Or cute. No. Not at all. “Help me up?” He holds out his hand and Dream automatically grips his forearm as he continues to speak, “I know we got off on the wrong foot when we first met, but I hope you are coming to realize that in this, in solving cases like these at least, I am actually competent.”

Dream grudgingly nods, but also cannot resist the opportunity for a good jibe. “It at least explains why when we first met you were balls deep in the barmaid bouncing on your lap in the middle of a crowded tavern.” He smirks back, trying to convey that he isn't really judging, just teasing. “Never met a Hawkshaw who didn't want to be the absolute center of attention.”

Hob splutters out a laugh and gets his feet under him, blushing all the while. “Hey there! It is a specific tactic! Think of it like slight-of-hand and bardic performance had a baby, but it acts on a group level. While everyone is busy watching me…”

“Your fellows are working without being noticed.” Dream shakes his head ruefully, ceding the point to Hob. “Not bad.”

“Fun, too.” Hob's grin goes lopsided again as he waggles his eyebrows and he stares at Dream for a beat longer than necessary. Dream has to resist fidgeting under that warm gaze and so distracts himself with their usual banter.

“If that is your kink, then I am sure it is fun.” Speaking of fun, watching Hob's eyes widen and his neck flush when Dream says the word ‘kink’ is extremely fun. He studies his fingernails and tries to exude nonchalance. “Exhibitionism isn't really to my taste, though. More of a leather and ropes type myself.” He hears Hob inhale sharply and smirks, still not looking up. “Did you know that if you get strips of leather soaking wet they shrink and constrict as they dry?”

Dream looks at Hob through his lashes, sees him open-mouthed and panting, eyes dilated. Delightful. 

Maybe he will be able to get through this partnership with his dignity intact after all. Or, at least, Dream certainly won't be the first one to lose his composure.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“Got you,” Hob thrills at hearing the voice he now commands come out as that rumbling purr he loves so much. “Do you yield?”

He looks down to see his own face twisted with a sneer that is familiar but he has never seen on his own features. “Absolutely not.” 

It is decidedly strange to hear his own voice this way–not quite similar enough to trigger the embarrassment one feels when listening to a recording, but still disconcerting. 

Then again, all of this is disconcerting and decidedly strange. He is currently inhabiting the body of his work partner, a drow who Hob had fallen ass over tea kettle for decades ago. He is using said drow’s body to pin his own to the dirt in a forest clearing outside the overgrown castle ruins they just investigated. They are now speaking again after a long stretch of silence, a silence that was only interrupted because their respective bosses told them they had to work together on this case. Which was very much not how Hob had imagined their reconnection going, but beggars can't be choosers. Or so humans say.

Hob is learning quickly that drow not only look different than other elf-kin, but that they see, hear, and smell differently, too. It makes sense, given that their senses are attuned to a vastly different environment, but as a half wood-elf he had just never thought of it before.

As Hob lowers his face, Dream's long white hair cascades over his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

He flexes his hands around the wrists he has pinned and spreads them wider, giving him a stance with the leverage to hop up and have his feet come down between Dream-in-his-body’s calves with enough force to pry his legs apart. The elf beneath him grunts as his thighs splay and their pelvises crash together. Even through the spelled denim they wear Hob can feel how aroused his friend is, no matter how he denies or ignores it.

“I feel it is rather narcissistic of you to enjoy the possibility of a sexual encounter with your own body.” He relishes the breathlessness he can hear in his own voice, how the body beneath him trembles. Hob knows exactly what has to happen to drive his own body to that point and if he is causing that in Dream… well. He was rather hoping they could have one of their catfight fuck sessions before the curse wears off.

“Come on,” Hob says, enjoying the rough, raw sexuality he can convey with just a slight change in tone with Dream’s vocal cords. “It gives a whole new meaning to go fuck yourself.”

It is fascinating to see what is so clearly Dream's eyeroll cross his own face. Drow vision is far more sensitive to movement than his own and it allows Hob to see even the slightest twitch of brow or flutter of lashes or movement of lips. It is kind of distracting, all this detail.

But that is nothing compared to the distraction of this sense of smell. Hob is no doubt never ever going to get this chance again, so he might as well indulge a little while he can. He drops his face into his own neck and inhales deeply. “Tannatell’s tits do I always smell this good to you?” Hob repeats the act, this time dragging his nose up into chestnut hair as he breathes in. “How can you work like this? I’d be on the edge of coming all the goddamned time. No wonder progress on this case has been so slow, you’re the smart one and you only have half your blood going to your brain. Fuck, it is like I am… your...” he trails off as that thought completes itself in his head. 

Oh.

Now, drow vision might have traded brightness of color for its enhanced sensitivity to motion, but there is no doubt, when Hob lifts back up and looks down, that there is a fiercely red blush on Dream's cheeks. And Dream refuses to meet his gaze.

Hob lets go of the wrists he holds and sits back on his heels so he is kneeling between Dream's thighs. He watches as the other elf brings his hands to his chest, rubbing gently at them where Hob's grip was tightest. Dream keeps his head turned to the side the whole time. 

“Dream, why didn't you t-”

“Don't. Just don't.” His eyes close and his face crumples into something pained. It guts Hob to think that this is something painful for Dream. “The first time we talk about this can't be like… I do not want it to…” Hob has never heard Dream fumble for words and it is distressingly alarming. “I would prefer to be in my own body when we have this conversation, please.”

Hob can't do anything but grant that request.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“If we get out of this the first thing I am doing is getting a three hour massage, bloody fuck these chains are tight.” Dream tries to twist his wrist to get some wiggle room and can't even manage that; all the movement does is jostle their chairs. His partner whines. “You alright there, Hob?”

They are chained to a pair of chairs, back to back, with heavy steel links. The chains aren't spelled, but they don't need to be when they are this tight: there is no way Dream will pull off even the smallest somatic component restrained like this and Hob certainly can’t play an instrument or draw a gun. Even worse, the room is unnaturally dark.

Dream hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to the sunlight and the greenery of the surfacelands until they were taken from him. For a moment he takes comfort in thoughts of twirling tree branches forming the beams of great towers, arched windows carefully grown in between, columns of elevators going so high they meet the top of the buildings in the clouds. He thinks of winding streets made of sandstone and brass and overflowing with greenery, the whirring music of solar panels as they track the sunlight along with their flower-kin. 

The thought of the movement of the sun reminds Dream that time has been passing, that they have been in here long enough that he is starting to have trouble tracking time–the only clock he has to go by is his heartbeat and that is only reliable for so long. Hunger has long since passed into a dull ache, which tells him it must be more than a couple days. Both of them have vacated all the remaining volume of foodstuffs left in their digestive tracts, removing another marker of time. 

They have not seen another soul since they awoke here. There is a dim illumination that comes from… somewhere, but Dream cannot pinpoint it. It is only enough to see his own knees by, make out the faintest outline of the large stone blocks of the ceiling that is a mere few feet above their heads. It is not enough for Hob to see anything, dull as his half-human senses are. 

Cruelly enough, water drips from the seams in the stone structure in a few places, landing on the top of their heads, on Hob’s shoulder and chest, on Dream’s cheek. It is the bare minimum to keep them alive and Dream suspects that is very much on purpose.

Dream leans his head back with a sigh and it presses against Hob's. 

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?” Hob's speech is slurred enough that it makes Dream reconsider if those arrows they got hit with were a poison targeted for those of the surface. It adds a new layer to the puzzle of who has captured them. “Like, if I wasn't working that night in the tavern, wasn't being the biggest distraction possible?” He is silent for a beat. “I would've asked to join you at your table. Started to chat you up properly. Instead of pretending we were old buddies as part of the case I was working. Because we’re not friends, are we?” His chuckle is hollow. “No, most definitely not. Perhaps I would’ve tried to woo you with song… paint you a picture with music. Gods, you were so beautiful. Are. So beautiful.”

“Hob…” He doesn't sound like himself, can't possibly be meaning to say any of this. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Fuck, like all the time. From the very first moment I saw you, the swish-click of your air walker boots on the tavern floor, noticeable to a trained ear even with the din of patrons.” Dream can hear him swallow. “It never goes away, you know? This yearning for you. It lives inside me now.”

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it. Hob cannot be meaning to say this right now and Dream certainly does not want to hear it without Hob’s consent; he is relieved when they lapse into silence once again. 

But it doesn't last.

“If you get a chance to escape, you have to promise me to take it, even if you can't get me out.” Hob’s voice is a threadbare whisper.

No. They can't talk like this. He won't have it. “Hob, you’re-”

“I am not delirious and I am not talking nonsense!” He is panting now and Dream swears he can hear Hob's racing heartbeat. It is another piece of evidence that he is not himself. “Promise me, Dream. Promise me you will save yourself if you have the chance, even at my expense.”

“No.” Absolutely not. Dream's answer is immediate and brooks no argument; he won't even consider it. The idea is anathema, like teaching the Druidic language outside of a Circle or attempting to unbalance Nature itself. “I will not leave without you.” 

Hob’s breath rate is increasing, pushing into hyperventilating, and his voice is unsteady as a newborn foal’s legs. He sounds almost on the verge of tears and it makes something in Dream’s heart crack. “Please, Dream! I need you to promise me.”

He grits his teeth hard enough to make them squeak. “I will make no such vow.” Dream growls. It is harsh, he knows, but he will also not lie to Hob. Not after everything they’ve been through. 

They never got a chance to talk about it, what lay implied between them from their adventure with that soul-swapping curse. Not properly. Not before this case, which pretty much immediately went tits up. Fuck, they should have spoken about it. 

Dream adds this to his long ledger of regrets.

When Hob speaks again the words are clearly forced through a rising tide of panic. “I need to know you’ll be safe, that y-” 

“Breathe Hob. We don’t need to plan-”

“Promise me!” he sobs. “I need to know you wi-”

The crack in Dream's heart cleaves it in two.

“I will not leave without my Mate!”

For a moment the only sound in the small room is Hob’s panting, then Dream lets his head fall back; this time it lands on Hob’s shoulder with a dull whump.

“You were right. What you felt during the curse.” Dream closes his eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… we were… we’ve been…”

Hob turns his head, twists his shoulders, as much as possible, until his nose nudges the point of Dream’s ear. “Stupid. We’ve been truly. Amazingly. Stupid.” 

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

They crawl out of the cave system into a raging thunderstorm. Might as well be a hurricane for how the wind is blowing the rain and trees sideways. However, the sight of cypress trees and the salty smell of the ocean limits the possible places that they have been taken to. 

“Holy shit we're in Port Essen!” Hob gasps in breathless laughter. When Dream looks at him he is smiling, almost glowing, underneath all the dirt and grime and soil and debris they are covered with, that is all rapidly turning to mud as the forceful winds and driving rain wash them clean. He looks to Dream and it is like the sun has risen, warmth diffusing through Dream's skin. “I grew up here!”

That raises a red flag in the back of Dream's mind–he doesn't believe in coincidences. 

“We need to move. Get as far away as possible. Fast. Get on.” Dream doesn't say more, doesn't explain, just grabs some of the reedy dunegrass at his feet and pops it into his mouth as he makes the appropriate hand motions. 

Hob lets out a yelp as Dream transforms into a dire elk, huge and black. He wouldn't be able to fly in such rain and he has no meat for a spell component, so his dragon form is out; the elk will give Hob a smoother ride over the widest variety of terrain. 

Once fully shifted Dream drops onto folded legs, but that still means his back is at about the height of a horse, so he angles his head towards Hob to lend an antler for leverage.

Luckily Hob catches on quickly, hefting himself up onto Dream with a grunt. “West,” he says as he buries his hands in the ruff of thick fur around Dream's neck, “We’ll hit forest and freshwater fastest if we go west.”

Dream stands, looks back at Hob once to make sure he is settled, and then leaps into action. Hob lets out another yelp the first time Dream lands from a bound, but he sets a rhythm and the bard in Hob cues onto it almost immediately. 

Then he outright laughs.

“Dream,” he whispers into his fur, must be leaning over to get so close to his ear, “you are amazing, dove.”

Dream would laugh as well, if he could. 

He has never had a rider before, not in any shifted form he has taken, and that it is Hob on his back, moving fluidly with him, legs around him, clinging to him… well. Apparently one doesn’t need wings to fly.

But first they need to disappear. They need to get gone and regroup and get food and maybe bathe in a cold stream and start assembling their meager knowledge of their captors so that they can send out feelers for information and start the tedious process of revenge. 

Because Dream will eat their hearts raw for making this the bower in which he told Hob the nature of their connection. He will make them watch as he sucks the marrow from their living bones for how they have treated his Mate. He cares not that he himself has been tortured; Dream has done more than enough terrible things in his life to have earned such an experience. But Hob? No. He will not let them survive this insult.

However, getting to that point, when he will be able to revel in the suffering of those who caused so much of the same, will take time. Dream is always thorough in his planning.

And while they wait, keeping to the shadows and gathering their knowledge and power, Dream will sup upon his Mate. He will devour the finest meal he will ever have. Savor the small pieces that he can pick up between his fingers and drop into his mouth and lick from under his fingernails. Drink long draughts of pleasure of Hob’s body and thereby nourish his own soul. Dream has been starving and did not know it, did not really understand what he was missing, until his body was weakened by the captivity and his mind sharpened by the pain his Mate experienced. 

Dream vaults over some rocky ground, avoiding it completely, and then as they crest a hill the treeline comes into sight and he could cry for the relief of it. Within the embrace of the forest Dream will have all the tools he needs to keep them safe. And then he can look towards the future. 

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The most shocking thing, honestly, is how shocked Hob isn't.

“Dream,” he sounds like he is calming a skittish horse, “I have been in love with you for literal decades. This isn't a problem for me. So we're tied together on a metaphysical level, so what?”

The druid just blinks. 

Hob sighs, running a hand through his hair as he relaxes back against the trunk of the tree. It reveals the gentle point to his ears and Dream has a bolt of desire lance through him, urging him to put his mouth there. He shoves it to the side.

They are deep in the densest portions of this forest now, having ridden for hours, past the midsummer sun setting and the quarter moon rising. They slept almost immediately once they stopped running, along the banks of a creek deep enough to wade into. Once sleep was had, Dream went hunting while Hob washed their clothing, which now lies drying on some rocks and tree branches close by. They have been so exhausted that only now is Dream noticing that Hob being completely naked is rather… distracting.

The trees, strangers though they are to Dream, have generously given them ample shelter on the creek’s bank; even if someone does get close they likely won't see or hear a hint of them through the lush greenery. The maple Hob leans against has been particularly taken with the half wood elf, although Dream is unsure if Hob notices the tree doting on him, swaying its leaves to keep him shaded despite the moving morning sun.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I know close to fuck all about drow, your culture, your biology… really just what is told in popular stories, movies, whatnot, which may or may not have truth in them.” His head thumps back against the tree trunk and he has to tilt to the side to look at Dream. “But tell me what I need to learn and I’ll learn it. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. The last thing I want is to be a burden to you, Dream.”

A burden?

Dream shakes his head, as much to clear it as to disabuse Hob of such a notion. “No, Hob, I…” He searches for the words and none come, stubborn as they often are, so he decides on action instead. 

Looking Hob directly in the eyes, Dream crawls across the space between them, over the gunslinger's legs, and sits with his knees on either side of Hob's thighs. He is so warm beneath Dream that the drow shivers, but all Hob can seem to do is stare in shock at the fact that they are naked and Dream is in his lap.

By the Gods it feels good to be this close to his Mate. It will feel better to touch.

Hob gasps when Dream's hands land on his chest, slide up slowly to his shoulders, his neck. He takes time to savor every hill and valley. Mine. One hand moves higher, fingers curling around the top of an ear, petting softly and making Hob’s mouth drop open and his eyes flutter closed. 

“You are not a burden, Hob Gadling,” Dream reassures. “Far from it. You have heard that traditional drow society is matriarchal, yes?” Hob nods but doesn’t open his eyes, instead leans into Dream’s hand on the side of his head. “Add soulmates to that and who do you think gets to end up with the Mate they truly want?”

Hob looks at him at that. “Are soulmates not perfectly matched? Made for each other? Fated?”

“Mmm, a topic of much debate.” Dream cards through Hob's hair with his fingers as he talks. “At its core ‘soulmate’ for drow seems only to mean you are tied to each other deeply. For better… or ill. And it is certainly true that you can fall in love with someone who is not your Mate. There have even been drow who found themselves unattracted to their soulmate, at least sexually.”

Hob’s hands alight oh so carefully on Dream's thighs, a touch radically different than during the adrenaline-fueled ‘work partners plus sex' arrangement they have had for the past few months. And the touch is light years different than their first time together, when an actual duel to the death had turned into a battle of a totally different kind. To be clear, they were no less feral in their fucking when they were high on the rush of escaping imminent danger than when their lust had ignited due to mutual hatred.

Right now, though? Dream lifts up onto his knees, his ass leaving the comfort of Hob's strong thighs, as he leans in to nuzzle into Hob's temple. 

“But attraction isn't in question here.” Hob isn't asking; they can both see their mostly erect cocks laying ignored between them.

“No,” Dream chuckles, “It certainly is not.” He drags his nose down so he can bring their lips close, not quite a kiss. “Rare is it allowed for drow males to be able to truly choose their Mate. So many are deemed unfit, taken to serve only as brooders for the Great Mother’s many children. And so it is not something I dared dream possible for myself. Before now.” He speaks against the corner of Hob's mouth. “I want you to fuck me, Hob. I want to know what it is to feel you spend inside me.”

With a wanton cry Hob is kissing Dream, crushing them together, and all the skin contact is glorious, as are the needy noises coming from his Mate’s throat. But Hob doesn't even know… he doesn't know.

“Hob!” Dream gasps, pulling away. “You don't understand.” They are both panting softly and Dream almost gets distracted by another kiss. “I said brooders. Female drow provide only eggs. Male drow gestate and birth our children.” That seems to get Hob's attention and he blinks his eyes until his gaze is sharp once again. Only then does Dream continue. “My cunt, Hob.” The wood elf inhales sharply. “I want you to fuck my cunt.”

Dream is barely finished with the sentence when Hob surges up and wrestles the druid to the mossy ground. Laughing, Dream pushes and scoots away, smirking up at Hob, parting his long slate-colored legs and reaching down to stroke his cock, tugging it up to reveal the wet folds hidden further down. Hob moans, eyes fixed to where Dream is showing himself off. Their fucking has always been frantic, hurried, and with Dream doing the penetrating, so Hob hasn't ever been given the chance to explore what lies deeper between Dream's legs. He looks ravenous for it.

And Dream is ready for such an exploration, except Hob doesn't even stop to touch: he grabs Dream's thighs, slings one onto each shoulder, and pulls Dream's hips to his mouth. “Hob!” Dream barks. Hob is ravenous, quite literally, licking and obscenely slurping up fluids, and Dream can do nothing but scream his pleasure. 

Hob laves up and around until he can suck on the side of Dream's cock before purring, “Knew I smelled something more when you’d fuck into my throat, could swear I heard something more wet than just your spit-slick skin slapping my face.” He takes Dream's prick all the way into his mouth, sucks until the drow cries out, then backs off to allow filth to keep spilling from his lips. “Fuck, when we were under that curse I chalked up any feeling that what was between my legs felt different to the fact that drow senses are so different. I never thought…” He licks back down, exploring the wet folds with his tongue and lips. When he next needs air, Hob speaks with his damp cheek against Dream's thigh.

“I can't fill you with children, but I am gonna come in you so many times it is going to damn well feel like I did.” Each word is a puff of steam-hot air on where Dream is most sensitive, making him writhe. “Until there is enough spend in you that I can press on your belly and make it flood out. Cover these pretty thighs in my cum. Once it drips down to your ankles I will lick you clean so we can start all over.”

“Fuck, Hob.” The bard has always been good with his words in bed, but it hits differently here, with Dream revealed to him completely. Further, he’s hit upon a specific kink that Dream has the tools to actually indulge in and not just spin pretty stories about. “There’s a spell. Originally it was to increase chances of conceiving, but more often nowadays it is used in modified form by those of us with a cum kink.”

Hob's groan is muffled when he leans forward into Dream's genitals. “Those of us….modified…”

Dream laughs, fingers finding Hob’s hair. “I’ll take you to Elegy one night. There are many of us, if you know the right clubs.” Hob lets out a needy whine at that. “I’ll need some cum–preferably yours–as a spell component. Then I cast on your bollocks so that the next time you come you produce, ah, lots more.”

His eyes appear above the rise of Dream’s hip. “How much more are we talking about here?”

He smirks. “Let's just say that the modification I was talking about involved merging the fertility spell with a spell that summons water in a person's lungs in enough volume to drown th-ahAH!” Dream is cut off as Hob dips back down and his tongue snakes inside Dream's body, his moan vibrating through Dream's pelvis.

Oh, it is so good to be touched there, for Hob to know all of him, to be laid bare before him, his Mate. 

Then Dream feels Hob shifting, moving away so Dream's knees are on his shoulders and he’s sliding a hand around from where it was holding up Dream's hip so that rough fingers can–“Oh yes!”

Hob pushes one finger inside and Dream’s entire body arches. “Let’s see, does your anatomy track with…” he mutters as he changes his angle over the course of a few thrusts and then it is like his finger strokes Dream’s cock from the inside and Dream screeches in surprised pleasure. “Yeah it does.” Hob sounds smug, which is so godsdamned sexy it only pushes Dream closer to tears. He slides a second finger in and Dream can’t stop himself from rocking into it. “Okay gorgeous, I’m gonna loosen you up with a couple orgasms and then you can have me.”

“Noooo,” Dream whines, plaintive, “Want to come with you in me!”

“Oh, you’ll do that, too.” And fuck him, he can hear Hob's grin. “Gonna make you come so many times you start babbling in Druidic. Break down every sense of propriety you have.”

Dream laughs through a moan, making it tumble and bounce. “An ingenious plan to learn the secret tongues.” He uses the word deliberately, playful and so fucking happy.

“Learn the-” Hob clicks his tongue against his teeth, chiding. “Are you saying that you are not satisfied with what my tongue currently knows?” Of course, he lays the flat of said appendage along the underside of the head of Dream's cock, rubs it back and forth as he looks up for an answer.

Seeing his Mate look at him like that, his cock aimed into his open mouth and his fingers buried inside him and his amber eyes burning so bright they are almost gold–fuck, it is so much. And the little movements just under the head of his prick plus the repeated deep massage of whatever that place inside him is, and Dream’s eyes widen as pleasure rushes in. 

He barely gets out a surprised, “Hob I’m-” before something inside him feels kind of like it pops and suddenly there is liquid pouring out of him along with his orgasm. It is as if his climax spreads out from a single point within his pelvis, pushing out sweat and screams and cum and tears and whatever else it can squeeze out as it hits the edges of his body.

Dream watches, awed, as his cock shoots white onto Hob's tongue, Hob's eyes closing as he groans, collecting all of it before he swallows. But also fluid gushes down, over his folds and along the seam of his ass; when Dream moves a hand he feels it dripping all the way to the small of his back. The liquid is almost as thin as water. It is most certainly not cum, nor is it the same as the lubrication his cunt produces. 

It takes another moment for it to click. “Holy fucking… did you just make me squirt?”

Dream looks up to find Hob licking glistening fingers that are no longer in his cunt. Which might be the most erotic, obscene thing he has ever seen and he feels like his brain short circuits a bit. Hob blinks at Dream twice before his own realization dawns. “Have you never done that before?”

“No!” Dream can't help but giggle. “I didn’t know that I could!” 

Hob watches, eyes rapt, as Dream takes his own fingers, the ones that have a bit of the fluid on them, and sticks them in his mouth. Slightly bitter, not as alkaline as cum, not as earthy as his cunt. 

His Mate watches his every move and looks like he might spontaneously combust. Dream can't resist teasing. “Like something you see?”

Hob actually growls as he lowers Dream's hips to his lap. His fingers, calloused from the instruments he plays and the grips of pistols, slip under Dream, to the top of his ass. Then Hob pulls his hand slowly forward, scraping, over one entrance, then then next, all the way to the base of the dark cock, collecting Dream's fluids in his hand as he goes.

Dream sees only a momentary glint of sunlight off the small pool of liquid cupped in Hob's fingers before they are heading for his mouth. Oh fuck. He opens his mouth, thinking to accept Hob’s offering as it is poured, but then Hob is smearing it, from one cheek, across his open mouth, to the other cheek. Hob tries to pull his hand away but Dream grabs his wrist, licks a long stripe up the inside of his fingers. When he releases his Mate’s wrist he purrs, “Again. More.” And that hits a goddamned button, because Hob repeats the collecting motion quickly, gathering as much as he can, and then turning his hand over as soon as he gets to Dream’s mouth, dribbling the liquid in. He uses Dream's bottom lip to wipe the last dregs off of his skin and then Hob is grabbing Dream by the neck and kissing him something fierce. 

His tongue is a lick of fire and it catches on the kindling of Dream's body, creating a blaze that tears through the drow. Lust. It gnashes, claws, in its effort to get out through Dream's skin and if he doesn't get proper fucked right now–

He rips his mouth away from Hob's with a wail. “Fuck your plans. If you don't get your godsbedamned prick into me right the fuck now I am taking the control of this operation away from you, so help mYES!” 

Hob drives into him to the hilt and Dream howls like he is worshipping the moon. “Bratty thing, aren't you?” He grabs a fistful of Dream's long white hair and yanks his head back with enough force to make his whole dark torso bend back into a U-shape. It pulls electric pleasure up Dream's spine as Hob sits back on his heels. “Seems you were never broken to saddle. Is that it? Do you need me to train you to be ridden? To be a good mount?” 

Oh hell yes. 

Two can play that game.

Dream gets a foot up onto Hob's chest and shoves him away hard, forcing him not only out of Dream's body, but also to sprawl backwards and drop his grip on Dream’s hair in shock. At the same time Dream twists, shifting from being on his back to up on all fours and then lowering his chest and face to the ground. It angles his ass up into the air and towards his Mate, and then he lets his knees slide apart. Presenting himself.

“My God…” he hears Hob gasp. 

“You think I need training?” he purrs, all seduction as he looks back over his shoulder. “But you haven't even mounted me properly yet.” He hears Hob panting even from a distance. “Come on, lover, ride me hard.”

He can't help but chuckle as Hob scrabbles to comply, crawling up behind him and pressing their thighs together but holding their hips apart. Hob palms both sides of his ass, meager flesh there is, and parts them with groan on his breath. “How hard, dove?”

Dream sways back into his grasp, forcing himself open wider. The stretch feels good, like anticipation. “Pretend you’re hammering nails with your cock.”

Hob’s muttered curses accompany feeling the head of his prick lining up. They are perfectly ready and yet then Hob stops just so that he can gather all of Dream's hair carefully into one rope to loop around his fist. Dream whines and buries his face in his arms. He just… he just needs. Please. Please.

“Alright, baby, alright. I got you.” Hob soothes, free hand petting down Dream's thigh. 

Hob fucking into him again is a homecoming; this, this is where he is supposed to be. 

The first withdrawal and thrust back in slaps their skin together so hard it sounds like a whip crack. “YES!” Dream gets up on his elbows and digs his fingers into the soil. He feels his magic root him to the ground. “More!”

Hob tugs on Dream's hair hard enough to make him yelp. “You’re here to get fucked, so take what I give you. Brat.”

And doesn't that make lust curl hot in his belly. He whines and lets his head drop limply between his shoulders, as far as the grip on his hair will allow, hunches to rest his forehead on the ground. “Please Hob. I need… please.” Hob complies swiftly this time, fucking into Dream with these slow rhythmic thrusts that hit like a battering ram. He feels each one shake his very foundations. “So good,” Dream cries, “Yes! So good!”

It is the beat of a drum and Dream falls under its sway. He is hypnotized by it, losing his higher faculties and left only to scream his pleasure as he tries desperately to get fucked faster. But Hob continues the basic rhythm for what might as well be forever, until Dream is sobbing into the ground and smearing mud on his cheek as he hiccups out soft pleas. 

Finally, he falls silent, nothing left in him but the ache of his need. And that's when he hears Hob's quiet chanting.

Pace like a drum. 

Chanting.

It is a spell.

Hob is casting a spell using Dream's body as an instrument and the rush of arousal at the thought nearly makes him pass out.

“Was wondering when you’d figure it out,” the bard laughs, hands sliding down Dream's thighs and back up. “If your body is meant to birth children, then this spell is for you.” Hob sings one last phrase in a language Dream can't parse right now and then the magic snaps into place. 

It takes a moment, but as Hob fucks back in Dream realizes what is happening: his cock is getting larger. It is incremental, but that stretch definitely wasn't there a minute ago, that insistent press against the insides of Dream. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he moans, helpless to the rising tide. “So full. Oh gods.”

The bastard above him chuckles. “Not even halfway done, pet. This spell is calibrated exactly to the receiving party’s limits. Gonna find out exactly how much your pretty body can take, then fuck you loose on that. So next time you can take just a little bit more. And then a little more. And a little more. Until you can take my fist.” Dream wails at that. “Until you can take my fist wrapped around my cock.” The thought makes his entire body shake. “You like that idea? Want me to jack myself off buried inside your cute cunt? Move my fist faster and faster, use a finger to curl up into your G-spot, make you squirt around me…”

He keeps talking, but Dream can't make out the words anymore over the whistling of blood rushing in his ears, over the throbbing, thrilling fullness thrumming deep in his body. It is so fucking good. 

But then on the next measured thrust Hob drives in deeper as well as wider and Dream loses the last thread of sanity he ever had. 

Digging his fingers into the ground like claws, the druid snarls and uses a surge of strength to pull himself off of Hob and then quickly fuck himself back, feeling how Hob's cock gets a little bigger with the in and out motion. This spell was meant to be taken slowly, but Dream needs more and he needs it now. 

Dream rolls his body again, making Hob groan and his hands tighten to bruising around Dream’s hips. “I told you to ride me,” he growls, “So fuck me like you damned well mean it. Fuck me like yoAAAAHHHH!!”

He screeches as Hob pulls him off the ground by only his hair, arms dangling and fingers brushing the ground, until he can get his hand around Dream's mouth. Dream lets his weight sag into Hob's grip and the gunslinger has no problem holding him up. “Fine, you want me to use this spell to ruin you?!” Hob bucks twice in rapid succession, the spell working each time and Dream splays his legs wider, as if that will relieve the building pressure. 

It doesn't. 

Dream mewls into Hob's hand. “Do you want that?!?” Hob roars.

He nods vigorously, as much as he can with Hob's large palm across his face, and presses backwards as much as possible. 

“So be it!” Hob releases Dream's face, letting him flail to catch himself before he falls into the dirt. Then Dream hears the sound of Hob spitting and before he knows it a wet finger is sliding down the cleft of his ass. “If you want to be filled so badly, then I will make sure to fill you completely.”

On the next delicious thrust of Hob’s cock deep into his cunt a finger drives into Dream's ass and the noise he makes is nothing short of a squeal. “YES!”

It is so much. Fullness and pressure and stretching and it doesn't hurt in the least, more like it feels as if his body was made for this, to take and take and take. And on each pounding thrust in Hob gets bigger and bigger, and just when Dream thinks he can take no more, the stretch deepens and his body accepts another finger or another millimeter. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Hob's hoarse whisper is tinged in awe. “Never seen the spell last like this. Never seen a body so greedily take more and more and more. So fucking perfect. And all mine. Mine.”

“Yes! Yours!” Dream wriggles, letting his shoulder and face take his weight as he reaches back and grabs behind his knees, pulls his legs further apart. “Please, Hob, wanna come like this. Please touch me, lover. Mate.”

Hob groans and the hand that is not buried in Dream’s ass finds its way to his cock. It barely takes two strokes before Dream is coming, shaking and screaming and oh fuck if Hob just keeps going… 

“Don't stop,” he pants, Hob still driving into him, wider each time, making his body sing, “Oh fuck don't stop gonna gonna gonna—HOB!” 

Dream howls as he comes again, writhing as Hob keeps thrusting, faster and harder, his fist still tight and pumping Dream's cock, and then Hob’s fist gets tighter and twists. It is too much so much too much, but then Hob fucks into him harder and his vice-tight hand starts twisting on every upstroke and he can't possibly not no oh gods oh gods! 

He cries through his third orgasm in as many minutes, overwhelmed and overstimulated and Hob keeps fucking him, even as Dream’s entire body goes liquid and he slumps onto the mossy ground. Hob’s fingers leave his ass with a slick squelching noise and then his Mate’s whole body is pressing Dream down flat, legs splayed, his hips still pistoning his spelled cock in and out of Dream's cunt. “That's it baby, I finally hit your edge. Not gonna get any bigger than this today. You good to let me keep going? Want me to come in this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Dream rasps, throat raw from his screaming. 

Hob presses his chest down onto Dream's back until not even a molecule of air is between them, his breathing heavy behind Dream's pointed ear. “Want you to do this to me, too, darling. Cast the spell and fuck me until I am gaping and exhausted.” He fucks fast and stays deep, never pulling out very far, and Dream doesn't know what is better, the images Hob paints with his words or how easily Hob‘s now-huge cock rams into his cervix on every thrust. “So good around me. You can already take so much… can't wait to see how far I can stretch you. Can't wait to try that spell of yours, fucking drown you in my cum, so stark against your gorgeous skin. Probably not healthy to cast it more than once in a day, but I’m nothing if not reckless. Wanna flood your cunt, your ass, and your stomach.” Dream moans, shivering and helpless beneath him. “Make you lick up whatever spills out of your holes. Swallow it down. Make sure you take all of it. Then plug your holes, gag your mouth, keep it all inside.”

It is like Hob had seen the beginnings of Dream's most depraved fantasies and he can't help but continue them. “That's… I want that so badly. And more, Hob. I want more. After all that I want you to tie me up, wrists to ankles behind me,” Hob makes a noise like a sob and buries his face into Dream's neck, rhythm stuttering, “And then I want you to spend all over my cock. Because I haven't come yet, you haven't let me.” That pulls a whine from Hob. “And after all that there will be paltry cum left in you, but that's all I get. That's all I get to use to rut against the hard floor. Smacking my hips down onto the wet tiles, but at that point any contact would feel like heaven. Would come so hard, for you, my love.”

A hitch in Hob's breath and he starts slowly pulling out as he climaxes, drawing it out using Dream's body just like he has used Dream's hand in the past, cock twitching wildly. He lengthens the pleasure enough that he gets to push back into Dream at the very end of his orgasm, gets to bury himself to the hilt as his last little jolt of overstimulation. 

Panting, prick softening within Dream, Hob lets all of his weight collapse onto his lover. “Fuck, you’re amazing. I can't believe I get to have you.” He nuzzles into Dream's hair. “My beautiful Dream.”

“My Hob,” he sighs, “my Mate.”

[isaacthedruid]

i still think this is the best fic i’ve ever written:

Dean and Cas pop out of The Empty together but not quite whole, they are alive and breathing but Cas is missing a wing and Dean's eyes are black—but not black like a demon's.

He thought saving Cas from The Empty would be easy. Just open the portal, grab him and go, but it's never that easy because why would it be?

[ghostly-kal]

OKAY EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT, MINTHARA X KAGHA

(also my friend suggested the The Spider and the Snake as a ship name and im obsessed, he also wrote a very short fic about them in like 30 mins lmao)

[dungeonmalcontent]

Druid: Circle of Bones!

Much happier with this revised template and color.

But yes, DRUID CIRCLE OF BONES (PDF here).

Make your beast shape undead, call forth carrion to obey you as undead beast allies, and enjoy the many benefits of existing as a heretical druid balancing on the brink between life and death.

Happy Halloween, darklings...

new poll for the next brew soon.

(And don't forget, Grimdark & Dangerous is 50% off for the month of October and Psionics: Spellcasting & Specialties, my new book that revamps psionic abilities to fit 5e better, is available for purchase!)

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

[druidshollow]

ummmm i errrmmmmm posted an intro chapter to my cherrypie fanfic its uhhhh very short but errrrmmmmmmmm i hope u like it emmmmm

[justaz]

semi-dark king merlin au, someone from ealdor tells king cenred about merlin and he is captured and held as a slave in essetir. since merlin despises captivity and servitude, he’d rather be dead and free than alive and in chains so he acts out and pisses people (especially the king) off so they’ll think him too much trouble and kill him. at first they stick to beatings until merlin manages to get his chains around a few necks and now has a body count so they kill him…..only he wakes back up a few hours later and king cenred is Intrigued and keeps him close. merlin keeps acting out but no matter how many times they kill him, he won’t stay dead. merlin has this moment after waking up perfectly fine after his twenty seventh death where he is hopeless and believes there to be no escape, not even thru death. a few other sorcerers in chains come and help him clean up and give him a lil peptalk, realizing him to be emrys, and then they revolt and take over the kingdom and crown merlin as king and now uther is like “wtf” bc his neighboring kingdom who was kinda sorta on his wavelength about sorcery, though uther did not approve of keeping them alive, is now a kingdom ruled by magic. he goes to war with them but with magic running free and fucking emrys on the throne, they don’t make a lot of headway. anyways merthur meet on the battlefield, enemies to lovers, you get it

[katarrinskey]

A friend is currently running a middle-earth inspired dnd module, which I am joining this Sunday.

So here is my noldo girl who basically avoided all the first age fighting by shape-shifting into a horse and booking it (she's a druid)

[isaacthedruid]

i wrote this weird little zombie poem/short story and for some reason my brain was supplying buck and eddie from 9-1-1 as the characters, so here’s the buddie cut of this stupid little story (trigger warnings of the normal zombie related media stuff<3)

my best friend died on thursday– car crash.

it’s saturday now but don’t cry for him, he was alive a few hours later. 

my best friend died on thursday– but i think he came back wrong.

i still don’t understand what happened, 

buck was in the hospital, in a coma and dead to the world. 

i was sat there with him, holding his limp hand in mine, 

his girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) didn’t have the heart to show. 

he looked so small and pale, covered in bandages from head to toe. 

then his heart stopped, they couldn’t get it pumping again. 

they dragged me out of the room, to let them work. 

thursday, 1:17pm.

thursday, 3:34pm, buck called me. 

i hadn’t left the hospital, i thought it was some sick fucking joke. 

“my best friend just died, how fucking dare you-” i remember yelling into the phone. 

that certainly turned some heads but then he was standing there, 

my fucking dead best friend, in a hospital gown with bandages hung loosely off of him. 

what the fuck– i thought i was dreaming–

some fucked up grief induced hallucination but nurses were scrambling to help him. 

the person from the morgue was running down the hallway after him. 

all of them ushered him away, into an exam room. 

he was making a scene, apparently i was too. 

what the actual fuck- 

no, no, no- his heart stopped, all brain activity had died, he died-

anyways, i passed out. (thursday, i don’t know what time.)

i must have hit my head pretty hard on the way down

and there he was, sat like i had been earlier, holding my hand. 

his hand was cold, that pink that always flushed his skin hadn’t come back yet. 

the nurses had given him some clothes and me, a bandage for my head. 

“you died, buck..” i said.

“it didn’t stick,” he shrugged. 

they wanted to keep him for observation but he disagreed, seeing as he was perfectly fine. 

every scan was clear, even the random ones they pulled out of their asses to keep him longer.

my best friend who had just died, who earlier was more bandage than skin, was fine. 

i don’t get it but they discharged the both of us, 

we uber’d back to his place, he wouldn’t let me sleep on the couch, 

i can’t remember his reasoning but we shared his bed– i held him in my arms.

(we cuddled, not that either will actually admit it.)

friday, 8;13am, he was gone when i woke up. 

i found him downstairs, doubled over the toilet. 

the kitchen, a mess and food strewn out across the counters.

the ground beef (we were planning to cook for dinner) was torn into–

like an animal had got to it. he had eaten it, my brain supplied.

“don’t throw that away!” he said, wiping the bile from his mouth. 

“did you eat this?” i asked, the beef held frozen over the trash.

“i- you know the answer to that.” 

“why?” i sighed, rubbing at my temples and setting the half eaten- jesus- 

i sat the half eaten thing of ground beef back where i found it.

my best friend looked at it, pink and raw and ground, and then back to me, 

i wasn’t sure what buck was exactly getting at with that look. 

he scooped his fork into the beef, not breaking eye contact with me and took a bite. 

i nearly vomited but he seemed fine, unaffected,

which confused me given the initial vomiting on his part.

“what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“what? i’m hungry,” he said with his mouthful.

“so, some raw meat was your choice of a nice breakfast?” 

“i cooked some eggs but they made me hurl.” 

“are you fucking serious, buck, and this? this isn’t making you sick?” 

“nope.” he answered matter-of-factly. 

friday, 7;46pm, he broke up with his girlfriend. 

his girlfriend of three years, the woman he was going to propose to next month. 

it’s kinda understandable as she didn’t visit him in the hospital when he literally died. 

other than that, the breakup came out of nowhere. broken up just like that.

she’d come to check on us– no, come to check on him. 

(we had an understanding. she didn’t like me and i didn’t like her either.) 

(she always said i was jealous of her which… i can’t fight her on.)

he was angry at her, rightfully so, and things got heated. 

she’d cheated on him, she revealed post-breakup. i shouldn’t have been listening–

but it was kinda hard to ignore when they were screaming at each other

and then she was screaming bloody murder. 

i ran into the kitchen, she was on the ground flailing and he was on top of her-

holy fucking shit, my best friend fucking bit her! 

he tore right through her neck and gnawed at her flesh. 

what the actual fuck was happening? holy fucking shit, this was actually happening. 

i pushed him off of her but she’d already bled out. 

“do you mind?” he asked, blood smeared across his face. coating his nose and chin.

“yes. i do mind! you- holy fucking shit, buck! are you crazy?” 

“i was hungry,” he said meekly. “also, she cheated on me and i-”

 “you didn’t have to eat her!” 

saturday, 1:02am, we buried the body in a field out in the middle of nowhere. 

we buried a body in the middle of nowhere.

no, we buried the bits and pieces that my best friend decided he didn’t want to eat.

what the actual fuck is my life turning into? 

“this better not become a habit of yours.” i sighed, dropping my shovel. 

“and what if it does?” buck smirked. 

“i’m not helping you bury more body parts.” 

“oh really?” 

“really.” i said, lying through my teeth.

it’s him and i til the end of the line, i’m his accomplice in this

and i wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“so, are you zombie?” i asked, starting up the truck. 

“i think so.” he replied, looking out the window. “are you okay with that?” 

“are you still, y’know, you?”

“i think so.” he repeated.

“then yeah…” i laughed, awkwardly as i often do. “as long as you don’t eat me.” 

“i wasn’t planning on it.” 

“i’m glad.” 

“besides, it would be kinda mean to eat you before i take you on a date.” 

“what-” 

“i’m serious, eddie.” 

“oh.” i blanched, “i’d like that.” 

oh. oh- oh my god? what the fuck is happening?

it’s not every day you get to bury a body with your best friend 

or burn evidence or scrub the kitchen down from top to bottom 

because he happened to decide he was craving human flesh. 

saturday, 7:30am, my boyfriend after a long conversation, took me out for breakfast. 

he was full, he’d just eaten an entire person minus the gallbladder and some bones

because apparently he’s like a cat who won’t eat every part of the mouse. 

i still don’t understand how this happened, he died,

became a honest to god zombie, he ate his cheating girlfriend, 

we buried her body, lied to the police and now, 

here, we are getting breakfast. 

how the fuck did i manage to get a boyfriend out of this…

it’s been a long two days.