#i can get behind him having lower intelligence than wisdom but not by *that* much

[skyheld]

i need to change ameridan's stats from the default bc him having a -1 to intelligence is insulting honestly. he'll just have to be a little squishy

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter 10

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and some second base action.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary - Xan Oku

Chapter 10

Your eyes fly open - heart pounding, mouth dry- as the nighttime movie that played behind your eyelids finishes abruptly. Hugging your arms around yourself, you try to steady the impact of that injection of adrenaline into your veins, drawing deep breaths into your lungs as you gaze into the oil slick of darkness surrounding you. The sounds of day are yet to kick into being as your phone screen illuminates 03:02 - the trains not yet pulling out of their sidings, sirens still silenced for the most part. The night air is just punctuated by the rhythmic pitter patter of rain upon the roof and the sweetest little snores still rising steadily from your…

Your boss.

For fucks sake.

Once could be called a mistake, even if it was a twelve year long one. But back doing this shit again? Sheer fucking stupidity. Your head drops into your hands as a stab of pain cuts through your gut. What the fuck do you do now? Marcus so honestly put his heart on a platter for you last night- could you be the cold hearted, callous bitch that throws it back in his face? All of your body fizzes with fear - your muscles twitching with the cortisol so rather than irritate him with your fidgeting, you slide out of his bed.

Bare soles on the night-cooled wooden floors help to ground your flighty soul as you walk around the unfamiliar apartment. Whilst the exterior dampness can only come as far as pretty patterns on the window pane, the chill causes tiny pinprick goosebumps to stand proud against your skin. You finally settle cross-legged on the floor by the French doors leading out to the balcony, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass - mentally cheering on your favourites as they glide towards the inky pools gathering beneath them.

With your mind so lost in your new-found sport, you aren’t entirely aware of the arrival of a warm, breathing blanket that curls itself around your body languidly before you are tightly encircled by long limbs and gentle nuzzling into the side of your neck, “What’s up, honey?”

A small, precious kiss is pressed into your temple before the sleep-thick murmur continues in your ear, “Thought you’d left. So happy to find you here.”

Leaning back into his broad chest, you allow the expanse of his form that is wrapped around you to consume your body whole, “Bad dream. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“‘M sorry,” Marcus slides you slightly to his left so he can search your face for the answers that you are so incredibly reluctant to give, “Your heart is racing - do you want to talk or just have things that will make you feel better?”

Initially, you don’t feel able to catch his gaze, having thought about breaking his heart only minutes prior to his soothing arrival but when you do, everything hits you like a ton of bricks. The deep pillow creases of his cheek, sweetly mussed up hair and the earthy hues of his questioning eyes make your fist fly to cover your eyes as your tears echo the deluge of rain.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds you close. Cradling you in his arms as your body shakes into his. Marcus allows you to sit with your pain awhile - not pressuring you to speak or offering any empty platitudes to solve it- allowing the hurricane of grief to rip through you, all the while tethering you to the ground.

As the tears exhaust themselves, Marcus leaves and your eyes dance in panic at the loss of his soothing touch. The relief of hearing his kettle start to boil and then the gentle roar of taps filling a tub, stretch a ghostly pair of arms back around you, soothing the ache beneath your ribs. A hand reaches down to you offering a way out - gently hoisting you back onto your feet.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Marcus pulls you back into his chest, pressing a line of kisses along your hairline, “I’ve made you a cup of camomile tea and run you a bath.”

He makes to leave you but your haunted eyes and tight grip upon his wrist beg him to stay, “Honey, I don’t want to overstep the mark here. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay. Overwhelming you like this, isn’t fair of me.”

Trying to eloquently respond to him comes out with just a snotty sad gasp so you vehemently shake your head tugging his hand towards the bathroom. Once inside the metro tiled space - pausing between heaving breaths - you manage to squeak out in your juddery voice, “Please stay with me.”

“Please don’t feel guilty - this is just shit I need to work through,” you mumble as you fiddle with the hem of Marcus’ t-shirt, feeling his skin twitch as you accidentally make contact, “I’m sorry that it’s having a knock on effect for you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he leans in to sweetly kiss your forehead, “I’ll turn around while you get in but I promise not to leave.”

“I don’t care if you see me naked - it’s just a body,” you mutter slightly confused by this sentiment when he’d been stroking your breasts earlier. As you start peeling off the t-shirt you’d borrowed from him, Marcus swings to face the bathroom door quickly.

“No,” the sharpness of Marcus’ response steals the air from your lungs momentarily - you stand in front of him like a rabbit caught in headlights, “I’m sorry, sweetheart - didn’t mean to be so forceful. No - it’s not just a body. It is your body and I wanna enjoy it properly when you’re not so upset. It would be taking advantage.”

Slowly lowering yourself into the delicious expanse of Marcus’ bath, you allow the warmth to soak into your aching bones. The water cocoons and hugs every inch of you as you permit it to unknit every knot of tension within your body.

“You can turn around now.”

A kind smile plays upon the deep creases set by Marcus’ eyes, “Tilt your head back.”

Reaching behind you, he turns on the shower attachment - the water bursting forth in a perfect summer rain across the skin of the bath water. Like a parent with a child, he checks the temperature until it reaches a soothing heat and runs it over your hair, soaking every last strand, washing away the mix of salt from anxious sweat and tears. Dropping the shower head in the bath, he then grabs a generous squirt of shampoo in his hands, lathering it into your scalp, massaging until you feel like a gelatinous blob under his skilful touch.

After rinsing every last bubble and sud from your hair, Marcus then squeezes out some conditioner - the bottle releasing the most indecent sound that has you both giggling like small children. Having coated his digits well, he starts to run his fingers through your hair - combing every strand with his hands, ensuring there isn’t a single knot to be found. A gentle finger beneath your chin tells you to tip your head back again as the shower rinses the excess away.

Settling back on the plush bath mat, Marcus passes you your tea silently and you just sit. Sit there in companionable silence - without an ounce of awkwardness- just both sipping tea as your body gradually accepts its need to sleep again.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Marcus gazes softly after your disappearing form as you spin into your bedroom to get dressed for work. It takes every bit of gentlemanly restraint that he possesses not to follow you, run his hands over your silken skin and get a hit of your delicious taste. Instead he re-settles his mind by looking around your flat having finally been allowed a peek inside your inner sanctum.

He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see but it certainly isn’t this. It feels an odd mix in there- piles of cushions and blankets but no photos. No pictures decorating the place yet multiple empty frames propped against walls, waiting for their stories to be told. Your home isn’t really a home at all - it is just a roof over your head with nests for you to curl into exhaustedly.

“Have you been here long?” he asks quizzically, spying the battered moving boxes that have obviously been rummaged through for a missing necessary nick-nack or two but never having been fully unpacked. Marcus runs his hand over the coarse, corrugated cardboard and light spattering of dust coating them, wondering what secrets you wish to keep hidden in there and if you will ever open fully to him, to allow him to lighten your load.

“Almost two years,” he hears you muffledly answer through the jumper you pull over your head as you momentarily reappear in the doorway of your bedroom - a vision of radiantly soft curves- just knickers and a mess of limbs arguing with the item of clothing, before your breasts get hidden under the striped knitwear.

As much as Marcus tries to stop himself, his body takes the required steps forward so that his fingers can be satiated with the warmth of your skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet - the heat of his breath just dusts the shell of your ear as he inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair.

“Look at you,” he murmurs - shaking his head in disbelief as he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him, “Beautiful.”

Using the back of his hand to release the hair caught in the collar of your jumper, Marcus takes a moment to drink in all your features. The flecks of gold in your eyes, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the streaks of wisdom in your hair - how were you, the beauty that you are, interested in him?

And then you’re kissing him. Your mouth open, soft lips inviting him into your inner sanctum. He feels your fingertips stroking into the nape of his neck, your nails scratching into the hair that twists and curls there. Shivers of pleasure run down Marcus’ spine, making him pull you closer as your touch sparks life across his body. Your gentle push causes Marcus to startle - to stumble backwards, falling back onto the sofa, sending cushions scuttling across the floor.

Feeling his jaw tic as you clamber into a kneeling position above him, Marcus tries to steady his breath by focussing on the small details of you. The darker spots of pigmentation where the sun has permanently kissed your skin. The divots of your collarbones just peeking above your sweater. The small reminder of a childhood misadventure just above your right eyebrow.

Nope. This is not working. God, I want her.

“Lower those goddamn hips,” he growls, “Sit down.”

“I can’t,” he hears you whimper, eyes shut tight, “I’ll make a mess of your trousers.”

Marcus groans as he considers the sweetness that is encased by those bright pink, lace edged panties - still not quite believing that it is him who has had this effect on you. When you grab his hands that have been stroking little circles by your knees and pull them to your ass, the heat in him rises as he squeezes and needles the delicious flesh beneath.

“This is gonna be hard having you work so close,” as soon as he hears the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The little twitch between your eyebrows. The tremble of your bottom lip. The slight shift back of your weight upon his lap. Marcus catches them all.

“I’m sorry. Nush, I shouldn’t have…”

As your weight rocks back away from him, leaving his body quickly cooling with your absence, the air is punctuated with your muttering of one word over and over. Each utterance a bullet coated in guilt hitting him sharply.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scrunching his eyes tight shut, he rocks forward, head in hands. Should he come after you? Should he leave? Fuck, Pike.

Hearing the creak of your bedroom door, Marcus lifts his head in your direction - his eyes throwing a million apologies to you, “Nush, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing that I’d ever want to do.”

He watches as you walk across the floor - smaller shuffling steps rather than your usual confident stomp, your eyes red-rimmed and glassy and your breathing a little jagged - and feels like he’s just crushed a butterfly in his hands when all he was trying to do was appreciate its beauty. Water starts to pool in the corners of his eyes as he blinks hard to warn them off - after all, he didn’t need to give you any other reason to walk away from him. A small grateful smile creeps across his face when you settle between his knees, resting your arms across his lap - your tear-streaked face looking up at him.

“I’m frightened,” he hears you whisper, “Repeating past mistakes is sheer fucking stupidity.”

Marcus freezes, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he awaits your verdict.

“I can’t do that again. You cannot become another Jasper to me. The relationship that never was with all the hiding.”

“I don’t want us to hide,” he hears his voice betraying him as fear courses through his synapses, his hands aching to touch you. Hold you.

Please don’t let me lose her.

Please don’t let this be it.

“Can I touch you?” Marcus quietly, carefully checks before daring to reach out. He watches as a cloud of confusion washes across your face at his request.

“Of course you can. What? Hang on, did you think,” you pause, brow furrowed, “Did you think I want to stop whatever this turns out to be?”

With his shoulders slightly hunched, one hand reaching behind to rub the base of his neck, Marcus nods, “Yeah, a bit. I…”

“I don’t wanna fuck this up, Nush,” he reaches forward to stroke your wrist.

“Me neither, but we will,” your words take a moment to register with him, “We have both experienced so much - good and bad - that we will put our proverbial foot in it with each other.

“But, I hope that in time, with our collective pasts and the streaks of grey in our hair, we may also slowly learn how to communicate and say when things are a bit shit for us and why. Why my instinct is to run screaming from things and why you think everyone you love is going to leave.”

Marcus curls forward so he can rest his forehead against yours before placing a small kiss there, “Now you’re really gonna have to be two minutes if we’re gonna get to work on time. I’m just gonna shut my eyes until you’re dressed so I’m not tempted to make us late.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Chuckling at the wink you throw at him over your shoulder, Marcus starts to allow that tiny ray of hope he’s been burying for years to shine again.

✪✪✪✪✪

As Marcus opens the door for you, an overwhelming wave assaults your senses. Noises from tapping keyboards, phones ringing and computers blaring, the overwhelming scents of fatty, sugary yet discarded breakfasts and coffee hits hard but it’s the tiny, surreptitious stroke at the base of your spine gives you the kick you need to go in and start your day. A steaming coffee is thrust towards Marcus behind you and some case files are handed to you by a smiling Andy, “Morning Sir, morning Nush. What time did you manage to get cleared up?”

“Between the two of us, it didn’t take too long,” you grin at the PA before looking over your shoulder to find Marcus smiling at you, “Think I was asleep by eleven.”

“Snoring away,” Marcus barely audibly whispers, making your eyes widen.

“Ready for the meeting at nine o’clock, Sir? I have everything set up in the conference room, ready to go…” Andy sweeps Marcus away from you as you head over to your desk, spying the hot cup of Java awaiting your arrival.

New piles of paperwork seem to litter your desk, replacing the ones you’d tried so hard to clear on Friday afternoon. Office life. That it is a life is a bit of a lie, as every soul within your office space looks like it is in some stage of decomposition. Kiri appears to be in need of another weekend to get over the two days of rest just gone, Dian is yawning into her coffee and as for Harper, well, there’s a part of you that doesn’t quite believe she’s fully human with the way she’s already ploughing through her work.

When 9am finally rolls around, it feels more like two in the afternoon. Marcus sticks his head out of the door to call everyone into the meeting and is met by several groans from the team as they reluctantly shake themselves from their chairs and drag their Monday fatigued bones towards the conference room. At the oval, walnut table, you sit sandwiched between Dian and Kiri, directly opposite Andy in a hopefully not too obvious ploy to not be too close to Marcus.

“Good morning everyone, I’d ask you if you’d all had a good weekend but I think we spent enough time together to know that we all did,” a chuckle rises from your office mates as Marcus welcomes everyone, “I wanted to have a catch up this morning as the Soutine that Agent Pierce and I checked in Lyon, has come back as a definite fake. The verdict was reached late Friday afternoon and the French authorities are currently trying to trace its origins.

“We also received word this morning that a Modigliani has turned up in Sotheby’s - they have their own art fraud team but hopefully we will get a look in soon. Agent Pierce, I know I haven’t asked you to prep but could you explain to the team what the issues are around his work?”

“Sotheby’s?” you question, staring straight at Marcus and entirely ignoring his request, “I can get in there now as my best mate works in the fraud team.”

“Hephzibah?” Andy catches your eye, “Didn’t realise she’d transferred over from Scotland Yard.”

“More money,” you shrug as Andy presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“No, Agent Pierce, I’d like us to hang back for now,” Marcus responds, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “If you could give us some of your insight about Modigliani’s pieces, please?”

Slightly taken aback by Marcus’ firmness, you take a moment before responding, “Modigliani’s back catalogue is a fucking mess as he used to give out sketches like a fortune teller.

“Jean Cocteau said that he was drawn by Modigliani roughly fifty times but he only ever owned one picture. Prices have skyrocketed over the past decade with one going for $170.4 million dollars so he’s very much a member of the $100 million club along with Warhol, Picasso et al but not quite at their ethereal prices.

“One of the main things about Modigliani is that the love of the man is not easily separated from his art. Over the years, he has been painted as somewhat Byronesque in his exploits by salacious biographies and films - very much sex and drugs and rock n roll. A bohemian who lived in Montparnasse and Montmartre at the Fin de Siecle - he was known by all the artists who lived there at the time - Picasso even said he was the only man in Paris who knew how to dress.

“To be honest, whilst he was hot - soulful dark eyes, ebony, wavy hair and a beautiful bone structure with an extraordinary amount of intelligence and eloquence-”

“Ah, so you have a type?” Harper mutters into her notes.

Your cheeks flush and eyes dart around the room, hoping that Marcus didn’t hear that as you desperately try to summon a consummate professional performance for the others, “-It is hugely difficult to separate the man from the myth but the main issue due to his profligacy with his art, unlike the other greats who get over $100 million for their work, Modigliani’s work is often questioned. You could easily find a Modigliani in an attic with a letter attached from the man himself and people would still raise an eyebrow at it.

“So, um, the main thing according to all the auction houses is that unless it is in the catalogue curated by Ceroni, it ain’t a Modigliani. This is problematic in itself as that was published in 1958 and even some of the pieces on his list are questionable. People have ended up in prison over their dubious dealings with Modigliani’s back catalogue as you can see in the case of Parisot.

“So if a piece comes to auction that isn’t on the list, they’re damned if it is a Modigliani, and damned if it isn’t?” Dian questions you.

“Pretty much. And he worked at a time when a lot of advances and changes happened in artist’s products. In the first half of the twentieth century, both the production of paint and paper changed massively as everything was slowly more industrialised and made more stable. By industrialising these things, it made the equipment cheaper quicker as more could use it rather than being made Etsy-style in tiny batches that were way beyond the means of most artists.

“Normally, with older pieces we can look at how the artists use paints and the type of paints they use but with more modern artists everything becomes a bit murkier as it is harder to date. And I will stop there before I piss off Harper by rabbiting on too much more.”

Even Harper has the decency to smirk at your comment before returning to her notes. Marcus’s gaze has softened again as you finish speaking, “ Thanks, Agent Pierce. Perhaps we could hear from you now Agent Gleason and Youngerson?”

Harper raises her eyebrows in Marcus’ direction before starting, “So, Agent Youngerson and I have been looking at various right wing groups currently active across the world and what their links are to the art world. The main ones who have thrown up scents for us to chase are The Old School Society, Hydra and The Order.”

Dian looks up from her pad of extensive notes, “Yeah, we've been tracing money routes with those three and when looking at the main donors to these groups, they’ve all had dealings with art galleries and auction houses recently. So we’re now looking into each donor carefully and may need to do some in the field meetings with them as prospective buyers - so my darling work wife, Nush, we may need notes unless you fancy being our cover girl?” she comically winks at you. Making a little heart with your index finger and thumb, you send an equally cheesy wink and click of the tongue back at her.

Marcus huffs a chuckle out at the two of you before turning his attention to Kiritopa, “How have you been getting on with your catalogue of fakes relating to this case?”

“Yeah, alright - slow going collecting all the data as it seems some auction houses are reluctant to reveal how many fakes pass through their doors,” Kiri frowns before glugging some more coffee.

“It’s understandable, they don’t want their reputations dashed. Doesn’t make our work any easier though. Agent Morrison - if you can show me what you’ve compiled so far that’d be great,” Marcus gives the agent a small, sincere smile before turning to address the room again, “Right, I have a meeting this afternoon that’ll keep me out of the office for the rest of the day so I’ll leave you all to get on. Have a great day everyone.”

✪✪✪✪✪

You:

Hey sexy lady, I hear you’ve got a tasty little number at S’s - can I take a look?

Hephzi:

Off the books? Course you can. Change into civvies and I’ll get you in this afternoon.

You:

You’re a fucking ⭐️. I’ll make it worth your while

Hephzi:

Do you mean cake and coffee? Because if you do, I’m fucking yours.

You:

Urm obviously! See you around two?

A small knock on your desk makes you put down your phone and you look up into Marcus’ face, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” as you push your chair away from your desk, you throw your mobile in your desk drawer and follow him into his office.

His desk is immaculately tidy and warm to the touch with its honey and caramel tones washing back and forth in undulating waves as if across a beach. There’s not a hint of Marcus in his office yet - no personal treasures - it stands in stark contrast to the warmth of the man you’re getting to know.

“I just wanted to check you were ok. I heard what Harper said,” he reaches out to straighten the ribbing at the bottom of your jumper, his thumb stroking your tummy lightly.

“She’s not wrong,” you grin lopsidedly at him as you step in closer, placing your hands on either side of his face, “Dark soulful eyes, beautifully high cheekbones, delightfully luscious lips that are perfect for kissing - hard not to fancy Modigliani, really.”

“You’re mean,” Marcus squeezes your hip as he shakes his head, “When would you like to speak to the others? I think being up front with them will help us in the long run.”

You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back slightly, your face illuminated by your smile, “Maybe we can have our first date and then think about the long run?”

When you see the flinch from Marcus, a pang of guilt echoes through your gut as you recall your earlier conversation, “I think you’re right- once we’re truly confident we know where this is headed, we should speak up. I am not going to lose my job or risk my reputation for you… but I also already know that I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Me neither,” his hand reaches out for you, fingers entangling, thumbs stroking - eyes crinkling as they meet yours, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Well, I was a bit distracted when I got dressed this morning - there was this really hot guy in my flat…”

“Uh huh, tell me about him,” Marcus slowly drawls, looking down at you amusedly.

“Oh you don’t want to know, Sir. Wouldn’t let me get dressed. Just kept groping me.”

“How... inappropriate of him.”

“Yeah - so I was almost late to work because of him wanting his wicked way with me and accidentally ended up putting on two different shoes.” Marcus steps away from you and having looked down, notices the one extremely dark navy and one black ballet pump with a gently shaking chest as he tries to swallow his chuckle.

“Going home to change? Your mind really must have been elsewhere,” you nod at him -slightly embarrassed by your initial genuine mistake that has now become a cover story. His gaze intensifies as he cups your face, his eyes focussing on your lips, “I’m sorry honey, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop you there and back before my meeting - will you be ok?”

“Of course, Marcus - I’ve worked here for years,” you tease him, feeling awkward as fuck when the half truth you are spinning for your boss feels awkward and bitter in your mouth.

But his kiss doesn’t. Marcus quickly closes the gap between the two of you, leaning towards you - his head tilted, lips soft and welcoming with their desire for you utterly apparent. Deepening the kiss, his mouth gently opening, tongue searching as his hands drop from your face to your waist, you find yourself forgetting to worry that anyone could walk in. Forgetting the regret of lying to him. What had you even been talking about? Should you be doing this? Fuck it. You pull him the final distance so that no air could pass between you - just you and Marcus refusing to pause for breath until your lungs run out of air.

Pulling back to gaze at him with lust blown pupils, wanting him so much more, you eventually find the energy to push away from him. Swiping at your lips with your thumb in case anyone spots the remnants of this moment as you walk towards the door on brand new baby deer legs.

“Hey Nush,” you swing back to look at Marcus, still standing, equally dumbstruck as you, before he winks with a cheeky grin, “Nice shoes.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Gripping the cardboard carrier that holds two steaming cups of black coffee in your left hand, you ring the bell to the magnificent Bloomsbury building that has sold multiple pieces of multi-million pound art. The Georgian façade is impressive in its structure and beautifully kept without a sign of peeling paint, decrying its almost 250 year history - a far cry from the shatterproof glass and steel at HQ. Hephzi opens the door to you with a wide grin upon her face, “Bang on time, missus - I swear the only way to get you places quickly, is with the promise of fine art to get you salivating!”

You can’t really respond eloquently to her as you are absorbed into the cool of the elegant building. Whilst kept modern and minimalistic, the space has retained some of its more charming period features - the cornicing and ceiling roses are still firmly in place despite the stark white of the walls. Oh, the pieces that have passed through this space! The very thought makes you tingle all over through excitement.

Currently bedecking the walls are a collection of women artists about to go up for auction the next day. To you, there was no true money in those frames - just a conversation between you, the spectator and the artist about their emotions in picture form. A discussion that spanned centuries as you follow Hephzi’s soft footsteps through the gallery, enjoying every single one from a still life of flowers surrounded by butterflies and other insects by Rachel Ruysch to one of the copies of Blinding by Tracy Emin - the upside down nude female form shaped in neon pink tubes. The artists speak through ages, through the art upon the wall, in the language of your soul.

Marcus would love it here. Oh to bring him and enjoy it together, walking through the space, hand in hand. My head on his shoulder...

“...Hello? Earth to Nushka? Ah, welcome back,” Hephzibah is shaking her head at you, “You’re here on work experience if anyone asks, yes?”

“Yup,” still only half listening to your friend, you begrudgingly continue on to her workspace in the fraud and forgeries department, reluctantly walking away from the art you long to submerge yourself in.

“Right, hand over the coffee and cake- I take payment in advance, Madam,” Hephzi demands, hand outstretched, “So tell me about the new job. What’s your new boss like?”

“Marcus is nice,” you quietly offer into the rim of your coffee.

“First names already?” Hephzibah’s eyes are round with surprise, “And you mention him before the job… Who even are you? What have you done with the real Nush? Oh! Oh Nush, do you like him?”

You stand there blinking hard, feeling an absolute idiot for being so awkward in front of the person you call your best friend. A small, barely perceivable nod through the steam of your coffee has the arms of your best friend wrapped around you, “Nush, tell me more - has anything happened? Do you think he feels the same way?”

“I think so. Made a curry last night for the team at his flat, and ended up staying the night - nothing happ.. Well, we didn’t have sex but I think he likes me,” you nervously chatter at her before drawing a deep breath, “He’s pretty fucking amazing. Seems to be genuinely a nice guy - just straight talking, gentle, kind and holy shit is he good looking! His kisses and touches just turn me into fucking jelly.”

“Better than Jas?”

Your heart thuds in your chest so hard that there is a point where you fully expect it to wrench open your rib cage and run across the floor. You stare wide-eyed, your mouth open

“What?”

Hephzi steps forward, her gaze gentle as she places her hand on your arm, “You weren’t quite as good at hiding it as you thought you were. It was pretty obvious you were together and loved each other very dearly - I just knew that if I ever brought it up that you would run a mile.

“I tried telling you that I knew before. It was after he died and I wanted you to know that I knew it wasn’t just the death of a co-worker. Not that there’s ever any just in those situations for us either but I knew. When I asked about meeting someone the other day, it was more of me just trying to figure out if you were ready to date again.”

With that, the floodgates open and the grief flows you like a river, eroding your defences away. Hephzi holds you as you utterly soak through her expensive blouse, “I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

“What I’d think of you - are you fucking kidding me, you absolute idiot?” she tucks your tear drenched hair behind your ears, “I’ve held your hair back in pub toilets as you’ve thrown up from too much alcohol and gotten you out of so many other scrapes but that, a relationship with a man from work is what you think I’d judge you for? Nah, that's not how any of this works, mate. Firstly, you can’t help who you fall in love with and secondly, where else are you ever going to meet someone when all you do is work?”

“N...N...Need a tissue. You made me get all snotty,” you tearfully stammer, all blotchy-face and tear streaked.

Hephzi can’t help but laugh at you blaming her for your tears. As she grabs a tissue, she also grabs the cake and the serviettes from the bag, “Come on, I know what’ll cheer you up - cake and a masterpiece.”

Following her into the studio beside her office, there it is. A supposedly lost version of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche - her sheer sensuality rolling off her in waves. The way that she gazes out of the piece beguilingly, inviting you to join her on the bed, the sheets ruffled and rolling beneath her delicious curves.

Hephzi laughs at your reaction to the piece, “She’s hot isn’t she?”

“Yep - I’d definitely do her. I’d like to say that it is her almond eyes enticing me but really, it’s that entirely biteable bum,” you say before biting into the pastel de nata.

“Agreed - although for me, it’s her back and her thighs. They are edible - as you rightly say,” she says into her coffee.

“How’s the provenance?”

Hepzhi pulls a face as she turns back to you, “Traceable, but this one isn’t in Ceroni.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts entirely. Look, love, I can’t let you touch it but feel free to take photos, measurements etc. As soon as my own tests come back, I promise you’ll know before the guys upstairs do,” Hephzibah asserts before sitting back on the desk in the room, “Just remember, you’re here on work experience.”

You throw a thank you over your shoulder at the rapidly retreating figure of Hepzi as you set to work. Using a Canon with a macro lens, you instantly photograph the major features and then take several overlapping pictures so that you can look close up on your computer at work. Whilst not quite a microscope, it would have to do given the circumstances. You trusted Hephzi’s sample taking but it was good to see it in person, even if Marcus had asked you to hold fire.

Whilst you were taking measurements of various points and aspects of the picture, you realised there were multiple footsteps coming up the corridor. Hephzi, obviously heard them gaining on the studio too and rejoined you, to back the story of work experience rather than letting her old friend backstage for some covert readings. She threw her notebook at you with a pencil to have the pretence of you taking notes as she worked.

“Well, Hephzibah, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you entrust your beloved notebook with anyone other than yourself. You have never even shown me the secrets you record there, and I am the person paying your salary,” a truly plummy voice cut through the room, “Whoever this work experience girl is, we will have to see about hiring her if you trust her this much.”

Hephzibah plasters a smile onto her features, “Sir, she is the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Such a keen eye.”

Refusing to turn around, you carry on making notes in Hephzi’s journal, attempting to concentrate on the words written in front of you, instead of the intrusion.

“So what d’ya think? On first impressions, is it real?”

Shit.

That voice.

Stepping up in response, Hephzibah firmly states, “Sir, I am terribly sorry but I am not currently at liberty to be able to fully disclose that info…”

“Oh no, it is quite alright, Hephzibah - this gentleman is Marcus Pike. He is currently fronting an investigation into white terrorism and art forgeries with 5 Eyes. One of your old lot, you know,” Hephzibah’s boss winks as if he was letting her in on the national secrecy act.

“Marcus Pike?” Hephzi shoots you a surreptitious look before the smile is back, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. Shame we haven’t crossed paths before now.”

Marcus offers his hand in greeting to Hephzibah, “I hope we can put that right in the future. I was wondering if we could hear from your work experience person. I am always open to fresh eyes.”

Dread courses through your veins as you turn towards Marcus, not wanting to look him in the face, “It would be remiss of me to make a declaration without reading through and tracking back the provenance as well as undertaking the necessary infrared and paint samples.”

“Sensible,” Marcus nods, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Your face creases at his lack of response, something that Hephzi’s boss picks up on, “Are you alright, dear? You don’t look terribly well.”

“Sudden headache, sir. I should probably get going for today anyway,” you virtually throw Hephzi’s notebook at her before grabbing your bag, “Thank you for today, I will be in touch, Hephzibah.”

Running out of the building as fast as your feet and lungs can carry you, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Sir Agent Marcus Pike:

Hey,

We need to talk. My office at 5?

You:

...

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @lawfulgranola @agirllovespancakes @theravenreads @lv7867 @ezrasbirdie @songsformonkeys

[fandoms-galore-yall]

MatachaBlossom as Gods Au pt 2

Greetings! This fic is based off the wonderful art of @shaky-mayhemm (Check it out here!)

This is pt 2, pt 1 is here

________

The plan, while requiring a lot of preparation, was fairly simple. Kojiro would pretend to be drunk and distract Ainosuke and Tadashi. Carla, in her invisible form, would gently guide Miya to a secluded area and Kaoru would talk to the boy. 

Since discovering Ainosuke’s intentions, Karou had been sending Carla to the boy’s town to get an idea of why he had caught the God of Destruction’s attention and how to help him get away. 

Karou hated to admit it, but he had felt uneasy every time she left his immediate area. Like a part of him was being cleaved. He had gotten used to always having Carla, if no one else, by his side.

While he didn’t say anything to Kojiro, the God of Earth hadn’t made any trips to Earth during the last few months before the festival and had spent every night that Carla was gone, with him, holding him and comforting him. 

It had been the only way Karou could sleep without Carla’s singing. 

He would be glad when this would be over, for many reasons. 

Though he supposed that having Kojiro’s voice lure him to slumber hadn’t been the worst thing. 

Still, he was worried about the plan. The thought of Ainosuke or Tadashi catching Carla in the act and then harming her terrified him. 

Furthermore, while he knew that Kojiro could take care of himself, he didn’t want him to get hurt ethier. Ainosuke couldn’t do anything to him physically during the festival but words can still cut even a God down. 

And perhaps, his biggest fear, was that he would fail in his role.

Ironically, despite being the God of Life, Karou was not the most comforting of Gods. 

Oh, he could play the part for a crowd of humans- a pretty shiny beautiful thing for them to admire from afar, never really seeing the truth behind the gentle smiles he wore as a mask.

But when faced with genuine feelings? 

Helping people with their emotional state? 

Well, his best was leading the person in distress to Kojiro and having the other God fix the problem. 

His worst was patting their shoulder, from a short distance away, and trying to make comforting sounds whenever Kojiro wasn’t available. 

Karou is big enough to admit that dealing with feelings isn’t his strong suit. 

Which is why he thinks it ludicrous that Kojiro had insisted it be him to talk to the young boy, Miya. 

Karou assumes it has more to do with Kojiro’s determination to keep his lover as far away from Ainosuke as possible than it is his faith in Karous's ability to handle the situation if Miya were to start crying. 

Karou sighed as Carla faded from his side, seemingly disappearing into the air around her. Karou could still sense her presence but no one else would be able to unless she meant for them to. 

As she got into position near Miya, Kojiro began to ‘drink’ heavily. 

Karou made his way to the gardens on the lower level of the grand palace made for the Gods when they weren’t in the Heavens. 

Carla began to gently pull at Miya’s sleeve to subtly lead him there as well. 

During Carla’s trips to Miya’s home town, she had learned that the boy loved animals which is why the God had borrowed one of the minor Gods Oka’s pet fox Sketchy for this conversion. 

He hoped that it would help distract the boy from any awkwardness that might come from having this conversation. 

Karou heard the boy enter and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. 

Miya took one look at who stood before him and breathed out, perhaps with relief? With wide eyes the boy stepped forward without fear.

“I thought you were going to be Lord Ainosuke”.

“Ah, so then he’s spoken to you about his intentions directly?”

“He has, Lord Karou.”

Karou wrinkled his nose. He normally didn’t react when humans used honorifics but for some reason, it bothered him, when this boy said it with no emotion whatsoever, face now blank. 

Karou hummed at his admission and then gestured for the boy to follow him. He did. 

Karou sat on a patch of grass, near a fountain, and placed Sketchy down on the grass for Miya to see. Previously hidden, bundled in a cloth, the boy lit up at seeing the fox before seeming to remember himself and schooling his features. 

“You may sit and pet him, if you are gentle with him.” Karou told him and Miya quickly walked over, sat, and began petting the fox. 

“You’re an intelligent boy,” Karou began, “I’m sure you know how most of Ainosuke’s disciples do not find their story to have a pleasant end?”

Miya’s shoulders were hunched in and his face hidden when he answered, “I do.”

“And you’re still interested in being his disciple?” 

“He said he’d grant me my wish.”

Karou hummed again, lost in thought. 

One of the reasons Ainosuke continued to get disciples, despite his reputation, was that he would grant wishes that no one else would.

Of course, it was rarely worth a year stuck under his thumb, but often greed or desperation blinded them to the warning signs. 

“I might be wrong, but I’m assuming your wish involves the boys who your parents think you’re with when you're not studying or practicing your future craft that you actually seem to avoid as much as possible?

Miya’s head shot up and he couldn’t mask the look of surprise on his face, “How...?”

“I’m no God of Knowledge or Wisdom but I am a Higher God. There is not much that mortals can hide from me.”

Miya narrowed his eyes, perhaps in suspicion but then caught himself and smoothed out his expression once more.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“How so?” 

Miya sighed. “I thought you already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” The God said as gently as he knew how. “I need you to fill in the final pieces.”

“They… We… They were my friends and then my parents started pushing me to be ‘perfect’ and so I was and they hated it and then they hated me… I just want my friends back…. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Miya seemed surprised by his own honesty and his eyes started to tear up.

Karou silently cursed Kojiro and turned away to get control of himself. 

“Ainosuke won’t make the loneliness go away, not really.” Karou said in his softest tone. “He’ll spend the year breaking you down, then he’ll grant your wish, but he’ll do so in a way that is as twisted as him…”

Karou was silent for a moment as he thought about how Ainosuke would “solve” Miya’s problem and noticed how Miya refused to look his way when he turned to fully face the young boy. 

“He’ll probably make it so that your old friends are like puppets, they’ll act like they love you but there will be no life behind their eyes. Which isn’t really what you want, is it?”

“No,” Miya whispered, trying to hold back tears. Karou hoped he was being kind by not pointing it out. 

Miya buried his face in his hands and mumbled into them.

Karou raised an eyebrow with a gentle chide, “I’m not sure if I was supposed to understand that?”

Miya snuffed, raised his face just enough for his words to come out clear, “What do I do now?” 

“Well, to not offer yourself as a disciple at all would be one option.”

“My parents want me to.”

“Even if it were with The God of Destruction?”

“No risk, no reward.”

Karou hummed again, “Another option would be to join my or Kojiro’s service instead.” 

“The God of Earth?”

“Yes, he’s currently acting as a distraction so that we may have this conversation”  Karou explained.

Miya nodded, “And yours? You haven't taken a disciple in over three decades?”

“That’s true, but I would be willing to make an exception for you”.

Miya seemed angry with his response. “I don’t need your pity.”

The God sighed, “I apologize. I phrased that incorrectly. It would not be pity. I don’t need any disciples but I’ve seen you as you work on your craft. You are a talented young man, I’d be glad to have you in my service...

“Though, perhaps you would prefer Kojiro’s service instead? He tends to be better with” Karou waved his hand around, “people.” 

Miya giggled but tried to pretend he hadn’t when Karou glanced over. The God of Life gave him a small smile to let him know it was alright. 

“But most of all, whoever’s service you enter, our main concern is your safety. Even if you decide to serve Ainosuke you may come to us at any point, for help”.

Miya nodded, listening but clearly getting lost in his own thoughts. 

Karou stood, “The ceremony will begin soon.” Miya stood as well, and handed Sketchy over. 

Karou plucked a flower, from a nearby tree, and placed it in Miya’s hair.

The flower glowed for a moment, becoming a blessing from a God, “For safety and for luck.” Karou told Miya. 

Miya stood shocked for a moment before bowing to the God and exiting the Garden, once again led by Carla. 

Karou thought about the ceremony as he made his way to his throne. Each God had their own, where offerings were left and where any chosen disciples would go to after being taken into their God’s service. 

There were a couple ways one could offer themselves as a disciple. 

The first would be to offer themselves to any God. Any God interested would light a flame next to their throne, then if only one God had shown interest, the human would enter their service. If multiple had, either the human would choose which God to follow or sometime the other Gods would back down.

No God had ever fought over a disciple with Ainosuke before. If Miya opened himself up to any God’s service, he and Kijiro would be the first.

The second way was for the potential disciple to specifically offer their service to a select God or select few Gods. Then as before, if multiple of those Gods were interested the human would choose, unless any Gods backed down. 

Karou assumed that Miya would use the first method, he just hoped that the boy would choose Kojiro’s or less likely, his own service. 

He sat on his throne. Kojiro’s was right next to it.

The God of Earth looked over and Karou nodded, letting him know that the conversation had happened and that he thought it went well. 

Kojiro gave him a smile, the one that said he was proud of Karou. Karou scoffed and looked away. 

Kojiro’s response was to try and play footsie with him. Karou rolled his eyes, kicked at the other’s ankle, and ignored the other God’s pout. 

 Now really wasn’t the time. 

Karou allowed himself to be distracted, knowing Carla would let him know when the boy was up. 

Carla’s hand landed on his shoulder and he schooled his mind back into focus. 

Miya was walking up and a Minor God was listing off his accomplishments.

After that, the Minor God was supposed to immediately explain if any God could express their interest or if they were only hoping to serve a specific God or Gods. 

However, the Minor God frowned at the paper before him and Karou felt his heart sink.

Perhaps the conversation hadn’t gone well after all?

Kojiro took his hand and Karou held on tightly, allowing the other God to ground him.

“Miya Chinen offers his service to only one God…”

Karou stopped breathing and thought he might have heard Kojiro grunt from how hard he was holding onto the other’s hand but too much of his attention was on the Minor God speaking to truly notice.

“Karou, The God of Life”.

Karou let himself breathe again. 

The God of Life shifted so that his hair covered his face so that no one could see his amused grin. 

The boy was testing him, seeing if the God of Life was really in his corner. 

Normally, that would annoy him but...

Karou waved his hand, igniting the flame next to him, to let everyone know he had accepted the boy’s service. 

No risk, no reward indeed. 

From his peripheral vision he saw Kojiro shake his hand and stretch his finger now that they were no longer in Karou’s death grip. 

Miya, from the stage below them, bowed to him. 

I’m having a lot of fun with this story, so I’ll be adding more! 

Whatever Miya’s craft is I think will be the stand in for Skateboarding in this story.. which means I just have to figure out what his craft should be lol! 

Hope you all enjoyed! :D 

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Prospective Bride (Finan x Reader)

Guys...I’m going to admit. I had entirely too much fun writing this. I hope y’all also like it. 

Can be read as reader or OFC. 

Warnings: Some swearing...I think that’s it.

Words: 4k 

Tag list: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​

  "Uhtred! There you are! Uhtred!"

 "What does he want now?" Uhtred groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

 Finan shrugged, his own ire rising at the man's childish and shrill voice. "How much trouble ya think I'd be in if I stabbed him?"

 "Alfred may reward you…. save him the headache."

 They chuckled darkly as Aethelwold dropped onto the bench next to Finan at the alehouse. The two friends had been sitting happily and nursing cups of ale, waiting for the meeting with the king to begin. 

 "Did you hear the news?!" 

 "That ya're a turd?" Finan mocked.  

 "What?" Aethelwold glared at Finan then turned back to Uhtred. "No...no! Alfred in all his godly wisdom has seen fit to permit me more authority and responsibility…."

 "That's what you wanted." Uhtred interrupted, looking like he wanted to be just about anywhere but here at this moment.  

 "Yes, but...BUT, first I must marry."

 Finan snorted in his drink. "Poor lass."

 "Poor...poor lass?" Aethelwold sputtered, gaze darting back and forth between the two, "I... I have no intentions nor interest in marriage. Alfred will certainly find me a woman who is a harpy and will slowly suck my soul and purse dry...then, then! he won't have to kill me. Oh no, I will certainly wither away because of her."

 "Ya don't know that." Finan waved to the barmaid who brought over another cup of ale for all three at the table. 

 Aethelwold gladly took the cup, still sulking and bemoaning. "It is Alfred! He will make a mockery of me and this will be his way of reminding me of my place.  Mark my words."

 "If you say so." Uhtred rolled his eyes. "Do you know who this harpy is?"

 "No, well yes. I will. In three days. Her father is a wealthy lord of East Angelia. Alfred wishes to open up trade with him specifically. He hopes this trade will better relations between Wessex and East Angelia, to unite us all. To further this, he wishes to broker a marriage to this lord's daughter with myself. To show I am willing to do my duty for Wessex." Aethelwold finished sarcastically then promptly drained his cup of ale in one go. 

 "This may be good for you. Perhaps she is beautiful and you will want to hump only her." Uhtred tried to reason but to no avail. 

 "Oh, all the whores in Wintanceaster will wail at the loss of my coin and cock then." He rose to his feet. "I must leave you now. I must make sure I have a clean tunic to meet my prospective wife."

 The two watched the king's nephew strut away, then get distracted by a whore leaning out of a nearby doorway. 

 Finan turned back to his lord and friend. "That poor lass…Alfred would not really do that, would he?"

 Uhtred shrugged. "If it was for the good of Wessex, he would."

 Finan shook his head. He hoped Alfred knew what he was doing, what he could potentially subject some pious, sheltered girl too. Aethelwold would not be a good husband. Finan took another sip of his ale, listening to the sounds of the bustling city around him. A part of him was curious about the girl. If he was lucky, he hoped to see her before having to listen to that pig's arse lament anymore about marriage. That bastard would be lucky if any woman ever chose to willingly marry him. 

 *****

 I stood to my father's side as he greeted the king of Wessex. We had arrived last night, directed towards an inn where we were able to rest and refresh ourselves so we could meet King Alfred this morning. 

 Having left the guards who traveled with us back at the inn, it was only my father, myself and the two advisors standing in the throne room. The greetings had been formal between our two parties. I spoke not a word, my father introducing me as I gave a polite incline of my head. Here I was to keep up the appearance of a proper lord's daughter, something beautiful to look at that knows how to keep silent. What most did not know was the intelligent mind kept hidden behind my pretty face...and that was to my father's benefit. Especially with conducting trade, no one suspected me of gathering intel and information to relay back to him. 

 This was not the first time we had used these roles.

 "Now that pleasantries are done, shall we proceed to discussing business? Perhaps in my study with some refreshments? " Alfred said, hands clasped in front of him.

 "Certainly," my father nodded. With a quick glance at me, my father looked back at the king. "Perhaps while we are talking business, my daughter may tour your fair city...with a guard of course."

 "I thought she could join my wife in prayer."

 I fervently suppressed a snort. 

 "Later, when the heat of the day is greatest. We did not get to see much of the city as we arrived late last night. A walk would do her good, as she has not much experience in the world. Seeing a great city of God as yours is would be a blessing to her." 

 Alfred had met his match with my father. Both were clever men who used words to manipulate to obtain the result they desired. I almost wished I could stay and watch their verbal sparring; it would be most entertaining...but I had a duty to do. My father would want to hear of my thoughts of the city and its people...and the king's nephew.  

 "I see. Said that way I can certainly not refuse." Alfred waved a hand to his side. "Aethelwold will escort her. He was born and raised here and has knowledge of the area. I shall send Steapa as extra protection although it is unnecessary."

 "I thank you but I would ask that Steapa remains so we may garner his insight on trade routes and guards needed for them. I have heard of your man, Uhtred. That he is a great warrior. If he is here, I would prefer him and his men to guard my daughter for she is my greatest joy...but do not tell her mother I said that. She may become envious."

 Alfred momentarily looked like he sucked on a lemon. With obvious reluctance he agreed. "Uhtred," he called, looking past us, over towards the back of the room, "you and your man will guard the lady and Aethelwold. You will do your utmost to be good representations of Wessex and all we hold dear."

 "Yes, lord." Came from the back. 

 My father reached over and pressed a fatherly kiss to my forehead before whispering in my ear, "You know what to do. Be good."

 "Am I not always?"

 He chuckled; he was just as mischievous than I was. My mother claimed if I had been born male, I would have been a duplicate of my father. Quickly he swept out of the room with King Alfred, Steapa and several other advisors and priests. The doors shut behind them with a resounding bang. 

 "My lady."

 I turned to see a man with a round, boyish face and haircut that looked like he tried to do it himself. So, this was the man Alfred wanted to betroth me to. He looked like I could poke him in the eye and he would run away crying for his mother. 

 "I am Aethelwold, it is my greatest honor to meet you." He bowed slightly and grasped my hand, giving it a quick, sloppy kiss on the back of it. "Shall we?"

 Following slightly behind him, I could already see that all the rumors and stories I had heard about him were true. I had hoped they were an exaggeration. Luckily I knew my father would never force me to marry a pompous twat like him. This whole meeting was for show and for me to gather an impression of Wessex outside of Alfred for my father. I just had to play along for now. I wondered how many times I would need to remind myself of that while in Aethelwold's company. 

 Once outside, the sun felt delightful on my face. I could not help but look up and breathe in its warmth. Why ever would ladies willingly stay inside to pray or sew or gossip was beyond my understanding.  There were far more interesting things to do. It was once we stepped outside of the palace that I took notice of our shadows. 

 Turning around I glanced at the two men, both in some armor and with weapons on them. One had long hair with a thin beard, vibrant blue eyes and a sword strapped to his back. Between his looks and his clothing, he looked almost like a Dane. I guessed this must be the infamous Uhtred. The other one had a thick, full beard, dark eyes with laugh lines around them, a sword hanging off his hip and a cross that hung from his neck. Interesting. 

 "You are Uhtred, yes? The savior of Wessex and all Saxons?" I asked teasingly. I had heard so many stories of the man from my father's side. Were they all true though? It was easy for rumors and stories to be exaggerated and the hero to be no more than a wood-mouse even if the stories painted him as a dragon. Although looking at him, I would suspect the dragon. 

 He smirked, eyeing me. "Perhaps. Though Alfred would say it was his God that saved Wessex."

 "Yet it is you who wields the sword." I shrugged, turning my gaze to his companion, who was watching us with unrestrained amusement. "And who are you?"

 "I am Finan, my lady."

 An Irishman? I certainly had not expected that. Nor the way his gaze and accent put a warmth in my belly. 

 "It is a pleasure to meet you both."

 "Yes, yes, they are guarding us so they are to walk behind us silently!" Aethelwold stressed the last word, giving a glare to both. He placed a hand lightly on my lower back, redirecting me down the steps of the palace and into the bustling city. 

 I caught an eye roll from Uhtred as Aethelwold spoke, not that I could blame him. It was when I met Finan's eyes and he winked at me...oh this was going to be fun. 

 Normally I would slap away the hand of any man who thought they could corral or control me. For now, I allowed Aethelwold to keep a guiding hand on my lower back, more to see what he would do and to witness people's reactions. It did not escape my notice the further we walked, the lower his hand slowly slipped. 

 We walked by the palace and some shops, our walk casual and relaxed. I listened to Aethelwold ramble on about this or that, keeping my eyes and ears open to our surroundings. What I had seen so far of the capital of Wessex impressed me. There was certainly wealth here, far more than in Mercia. This would be a good place to commence trade for my father. 

 It was also at this point that Aethelwold's hand had slipped down to the point where his fingers were caressing the top of my arse with each movement. I gritted my teeth at the feeling and at how unaffected he seemed by it. This was unseemingly in public, let alone how to treat a lord's daughter. If this was his standard of respect for a lord's daughter in public, I shivered at the thought of how he would treat his wife. Clearly a woman was only something to hump and amuse him. 

 If he thought that idea included me...he was very wrong. 

 "What is in that direction?"

 Aethelwold looked to where I pointed. "Ah, just a short cut towards the blacksmith's. He prefers to have his shop on the outskirts of the city."

 "I would like to see it."

 "Why? There is nothing of interest for a lady as yourself."

 Oh?

 "Nevertheless, I would like to go."

 "If you insist." He forced a smile and guided me towards the alley that served as a shortcut. 

 It was when we were about a third of the way that I stopped. I could see some people walking past the alley but no one was paying attention to the four persons now stopped. A row of buildings was to our left, the back facing us. On our other side was a small coop with chickens and an overly eager rooster, who had no qualms making his presence known. Otherwise, we were alone.

 "My lady, is someth…"

 I ignored Aethelwold. Abruptly I sidestepped away from him so his hand was no longer touching me. His touch had become more and more repulsive as we walked. Rounding on our two shadows, I focused on Uhtred first. 

 Their quiet commentary had not gone unnoticed by me but Aethelwold pointedly ignored them as he continued to give me the "tour". 

 "Are you Alfred's man?"

 Uhtred crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you mean, my lady?"

 "Is this necessary?" Aethelwold tried to put his hand on me again but I smacked it away, still ignoring him otherwise. 

 "Do you report everything you see and do to Alfred? Are you his man or do you just follow his orders to fulfill your oath?"

 He raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure but curious where I was going with this. "I am not Steapa if that is what you ask."

 I nodded then turned my gaze to Finan. "And you, Irishman?"

 "I just do what my Lord Uhtred says." He chuckled, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he met mine. 

 "Good." I smiled brightly at them, putting all my charm in and batting my lashes for fun. "I would hate to get in trouble. My father would be ever so disappointed in me."

 "What are you...oh!" Aethelwold started but his words cut off when I roughly shoved him against the back of one of the buildings. He stumbled, not expecting the force and slammed against the wood. 

 As he stumbled, I prowled after him, a snarl on my face. In a well-practiced move, I bent and pulled the dagger out of its sheath I always kept strapped to my lower leg and tucked just slightly into my boot. In an instant, it was in my hand and pressed firmly just between his legs. If his cock twitched, he would feel the edge of my blade. My other hand grabbed his jaw so his focus could only be on me. 

 "Let us get something straight. You try and touch me again; I will turn you into a eunuch. You keep your hands and any ideas of your cock to yourself. Got it?" 

 "Ah, yes. Of course, my apologies, I just...ah, ah, AH!" He paled even further when I moved the blade slightly. 

 "One more thing. You are a piece of shit. I will never marry you, nor will anyone force me to. And if by some miracle, it is arranged. Know this. On our wedding night, I will kill you before you even think about touching me. I am only here to open negotiations between my father and King Alfred. Nothing more. Now…" I slowly dragged the dagger up his torso to land at the base of his throat. "We can continue the tour with a better understanding of one another, yes?"

 "Yes?" He squeaked out. 

 "Good. We will be seeing much of one another the next few days. It shall be fun." I giggled, stepping away from him. A quick glance behind me showed Uhtred with a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to suppress laughter. Finan on the other hand had the biggest grin on his face and a starstruck look in his eyes. 

 I sent him a quick wink, finding myself enjoying that look in his dark eyes. 

 Done threatening my prospective husband, I knelt to replace the dagger in its sheath. Although I always carried it on my person and I knew how to use it well; only a few knew of it and I liked to keep it that way. 

 As I started to rise, a hand came into view. Finan stood before me with his hand out. Quickly I accepted and allowed him to help me to my feet, even if it was unnecessary. His hand felt too good holding mine, the roughness I knew to only come from swordplay, the hand of a warrior. He squeezed my hand slightly before letting go. 

 "Do you know the way to the blacksmith's?"

 "I do."

 "Excellent." I wrapped my arm through his, placing my hand on his forearm. "Will you escort me? I am in desperate need of a new dagger and would like to see what Wessex has to offer."

 That slow, lazy smile I was growing quite fond of spread on his face, dark eyes alight. "Aye, we would not want ya in lack, now would we?"

 "Lord Uhtred, do you believe Wessex will be in greater need of grain and iron this year? I hear King Alfred is continuing to build more burhs due to increased raids in Mercia."

 He answered my question from just behind me. "I suspect, my lady. Although East Angelia needs to remain vigilant in their own defenses."

 "Certainly. King Aethelstan is no fool. Even if he prefers to use priests instead of swords as of late."

 As we walked, we discussed trade and the Danes. Both were impressed with my knowledge and insight, to which I explained that I was my father's only child. He raised me as if I was a son because to him, I am his heir. 

 And if I happened to enjoy the feeling of strong muscles under my hand and warm breath dancing over my skin whenever dark eyes met mine...who could blame me? His Irish accent may also have something to do with my slowly decreasing proximity and increased flirtation. 

 The visit to the blacksmith was entertaining. Uhtred, Finan and myself along with the blacksmith, Aldwin, spoke easily of weapons. In the end, I chose a lovely dagger with a promise to come retrieve and pay for it this evening.

 The whole time Aethelwold grumbled just off to the side, looking like a petulant child. 

 "What will happen when you marry?" Uhtred asked as we walked lazily back in the direction of the palace. 

 "My father will never allow me to marry a fool for his lands, tenants and trade are important to him. He would want someone who is a good lord to replace him."

 "Will that not be ya?" Finan asked. 

 "Yes, unless I marry. Even then I still plan on being involved in everything. I am not one to sit idly by." I paused, smirking to myself as I looked around. "Perhaps I should not bother with marriage at all. The only thing I need is an heir of my own. I could take a lover, become with child and that would solve the problem."

 "I suspect many men will be disappointed when they hear that. I for one think the idea holds merit." Finan held my gaze and with that smirk that spoke of trouble.

 I stopped, turning to face him slightly. "Mmm? Is that your way of volunteering to be my lover?"

 "If the position is open…" He leaned down, his lips ghosting faintly over the rim of my ear. "I promise to make it worth ya time."

 That touch sent a fire burning in my veins and when I caught his eyes, I thought I could see the same desire reflected. "I would hate to be disappointed." I purred, running a finger slowly down his chest. 

 Uhtred coughed loudly from behind us. 

 My cheeks warmed at the reminder we were in public. For a brief moment all I could see and hear was him...and how much I wanted to see if those lips tasted as good as they looked.

 Up ahead I could see Lady Aelswith standing on the top of the steps with a priest on either side of her. Her hands clasped in front of her, eyes scanning the crowd intently. 

 I groaned, earning a chuckle from the warriors. I had hoped she would leave me alone but clearly, she thought I was in desperate need of prayer. After spending time with Finan, my imagination certainly could do with a cleansing.

 "Thank you for escorting me today." 

 "It was our pleasure." Uhtred said. 

 Instead of saying anything, Finan lifted my hand to his lips. His eyes remained glued to mine as his lips touched my skin. It should be illegal how a simple kiss on the hand could feel so erotic. Unable to help myself, my thumb stroked his bottom lip before he could release me. 

 Aelswith finally noticed me and called my name loudly. If the pinched look on her face said anything, she was not pleased to see me walking so comfortably with Lord Uhtred and his man. 

 I smiled at both warriors, taking a step back. I glanced over to the side to see the still sulking Aethelwold.  "Pleasure to meet you. It was most...informative." Spinning on my heel, I started towards the queen not even bothering to hear Aethelwold's response.

 I knew my father planned on being here for a few days before returning home. I could only hope during the upcoming days I would be able to see more of Lord Uhtred and his man. 

 Especially his man. 

 I might need to bathe in holy water when we returned home. 

 *****

 "I think I'm in love." Finan murmured to himself, watching her hips sway as she walked away. 

 "I do not think I have ever been so insulted in my life." Aethelwold grumbled, coming to stand on Uhtred's other side. "Harpy. As I said. She may have an attractive appearance but still a harpy. Although, it would be fun to bed her. I bet she rides well."

 Finan rounded on the smaller man. "Say another word and I'll gut ya like a fish."

 "Ooo...so protective. The way you two were practically eye-fucking, I would say…"

 Uhtred wisely grabbed the front of Aethelwold's tunic and shoved him a step back. "You will say no more or I will let him gut you. How dare you put your hands on her like you did earlier!" 

 "I….it was nothing. Just a bit of fun."

 "Can I gut him now, lord?"

 Uhtred sighed and released the king's nephew. "He is not worth the effort. Let us go, Finan."

 The Irishman fell into step with his friend. If he heard one more degrading word out of the pig's arse, his restraint would vanish. 

 "I do agree with one thing that Aethelwold said." Uhtred suddenly said after they walked a few minutes. 

 "What was that?"

 "You were quite taken with her."

 Finan laughed, grabbing the neckline of his tunic. "Aye, I don't deny it. She…I have never met a woman like her before. When she grabbed the turd and stuck her dagger between his legs…"

 "I am surprised he did not piss himself." Uhtred chuckled. "Yet I must warn you of something."

 Finan looked over at the sudden serious tone. "What?"

 "If she does take you as a lover, be careful." Then the cocky bastard had a shit-eating grin. "I would hate to see her damage you. I still have need of you."

 Finan threw his head back laughing as he slapped Uhtred on the shoulder. They headed towards the Inn to hopefully find Sihtric and Osferth.  

 As they walked Finan could not get the memory of her on his arm and smiling out of his head. Nor how her touch and heated gaze made him want to pleasure her in every way. He prayed he would get to see and speak with her again. Perhaps he could further convince her to allow him to be her lover, for he would surely be hers and only hers without question. 

[avengernomore]

Is it time for more headcanons?

….well, I’m having trouble getting to sleep, so yes.

This time, it’s Sasuke as a parent, which will involve two topics: Training and dating.

So let’s get down to it, shall we?

And of course, put it under a read more so people don’t get upset about a huge post clogging up their dashboard...

Training

Now, of course, Sasuke will play a key part in training his kids, before, during, and after the Academy. As the last remaining Uchiha, it is down to him to pass down the family's techniques, knowledge, and wisdom.

He will, nevertheless, not participate in any schemes to try and awaken his children's Sharingan, due to the ways it is usually activated are not generally pleasant, but he will teach them more advanced techniques once their Sharingan has awoken.

There is one stumbling block in the techniques he can teach, though: The Chidori.

He would first need to ask Kakashi if he is allowed to teach it, since Kakashi was the one who created it, and if Kakashi forbade it, Sasuke would not teach it.

Assuming Kakashi says yes, Sasuke would still not even consider teaching it to a child who does not have the Sharingan, since while the technique can be used without it, it is generally a VERY poor idea to do so, because it results in some sever tunnel vision, which the Sharingan nullifies.

Even assuming he has Kakashi's permission and the child has the Sharingan, Sasuke would likely still be hesitant to teach it. It is, after all, classified as an assassination technique, the speed of it countering the noise it makes. And he doesn’t want his children to necessarily be killers. It would likely depend on the skill level and age of the child whether or not he will teach it to them.

And if the child ends up with the Mangekyo Sharingan, or the Rinnegan? …I have not thought that far ahead. Due to how things are after the 4th Ninja War, the chances of something like that happening are fairly low. Even lower than they would usually be. And Sasuke definitely would not want any of his kids to go through what is required to awaken the Mangekyo. And if they were old enough to get the Rinnegan, Sasuke would likely be dead by that point.

Sasuke would probably forbid his children from using the Mangekyo unless under very extreme circumstances, and upon his death, his eyes would be left to the oldest of his children that possesses it, if any of them do, so they can be transplanted into them. He would have left a letter explaining why. And of course, it could then theoretically trickle down, the oldest's eyes passing to the next oldest, and so on. It never said that the eyes had to be in perfect condition to activate the Eternal Mangekyo, after all.

He might give them some very light training on using the Mangekyo, but it would all be theoretical, with no actual practice. Just the ideas behind it, in case they end up in a situation where they do HAVE to use it to protect themselves or others.

Dating

As you might expect, Sasuke's approach on his children dating would depend upon the gender of said child.

Let's start with the boys. Sasuke would take note if they say that they are interested in someone, and he would set about teaching them proper dating etiquette... although for all he knows, it might be outdated by that time. But he would tell them about pulling out their partners chair and then pushing it in once they’re seated, things to talk about, specific things not to say or bring up as a discussion topic, and of course, paying for the meal. Considering the Uchiha fortune, Sasuke would likely give his child the money to pay the bill, but would also say that if their partner insists upon splitting the bill, not to argue too much against it.

He’d would also give his son a talk about meeting their partner’s father, and the things to say and how to act in that position. Although hopefully his son would have enough intelligence and common sense not to make a fool of himself.

Now, if it’s the girls, it’s a slightly different matter. Sasuke would still teach them about manners and whatnot, because for the most part, fuck gender roles. Or so the girls would know what to expect from their guy.

He would also want to meet the guy fairly early on. Before the first date, if possible, but at least at some point before the third date.

Sasuke wouldn’t necessarily go the full protective Dad route, and instinctively distrust and hate them, but he would certainly give them a talking to about not harming his daughter and telling them in no uncertain terms that they will regret it if they do hurt them.

If his daughter is dating another girl though... he probably wouldn’t do that.

That is another thing, Sasuke isn’t going to care what gender his children or their partners present themselves as, or what sexuality they are. As far as he is concerned, love is love, and as long as his children are safe and happy, that’s all he needs.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

This was kind of a transition chapter so cred’s to the show for the dialogue I used. But buckle up, shits really gonna go down next chapter.

Chapter 14 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13)

Nixon - June 1944

The drop into Normandy was perilous. Just as Nixon had feared, nothing seemed to go as planned. It was as if the Germans were waiting for them to arrive based off of how much fire they experienced. Nixon, like most of the men, missed his drop zone but he was lucky enough to quickly link up with Battalion headquarters. It was a chaotic couple of first days in France as the airborne got situated in relation to the troops on the beach. Early into their arrival, Winters and the available Easy Company men took down some German guns. This not only saved a number of lives on the beaches but produced a map detailing German artillery positions. Looking at it, Nixon realized how important it could be. It couldn’t wait, so he decided to run to Utah beach to hand the map over to the higher ups who could do something with it. The run to Utah was only three miles, no worse than he had experienced during training. He was grateful though that Command decided to send the first two tanks that landed in to aid the 101st, thus providing Nixon with a ride.

He greeted Winters with a cheeky smile when he returned to the assembly area. “Going my way?”

Winters tossed his gun up for Nixon to catch, “sure.”

The men bunkered down for the night, scrounging for what food and beds they could find. The Battalion was on the move by June 8th on their way to take Carentan. As according to plan, the 101st forced passage into Carentan on June 10th and 11th. The days were hot and muggy, barely cooling down at night for the men dressed in heavy uniforms and equipment. Bugs were everywhere and exhaustion was setting in. Finally, they encountered the Germans. On June 12th the German’s were forced to withdraw and it seemed like victory was theirs. But Nixon was suspicious. Surely the Germans wouldn’t give up such an important position so easily; and he was right. On June 13th the 17th SS PzG Division counter-attacked. Thankfully, the U.S. 2nd Armored Division came in for support.

When Nixon returned to Battalion headquarters with news of their victory he found that Emily had finally arrived.

“Emily!” he wanted nothing more than to hug her in that moment. The last week had been exhausting. It was such a comfort to see her.

“Miss me?” she grinned up at him. Her smile was like a shot of morphine, he immediately felt his muscles relax. “You look a mess,” she shook her head.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, we’ve only been taking Carentan.”

“Congratulations,” she said, “did you like the tanks I sent you?”

Nixon looked at her flabbergasted. Then slowly, through the haze of his fatigue, he realized she was messing with him. “Ha ha. It would’ve been impressive if you had.”

“Yeah I wish, unfortunately I’m not that powerful yet.”

Nixon slung his arm around her neck, “no but I bet you know where to find me some food.”

Despite his exhaustion, Nixon didn’t sleep well those final weeks in Normandy. Instead, his alcohol intake increased. He had to re-fill his flask every day, sometimes topping it off throughout the day. He would need to replenish his stores soon. But no one anticipated how long they would actually be fighting in Normandy. In fact, the 101st had expected to be relieved much sooner. Strayer kept asking for patrols as the allies attempted to inch their way closer and closer to Germany.

Twenty-five days after D-Day Nixon was sent out on a patrol with Harry Welsh. It was a reconnaissance mission so Nixon was required to go. What they were looking for he wasn’t sure. The regiment had exhausted their knowledge of the German’s position in the area so any new piece of information could serve as an advantage.

Nixon peered through a pair of binoculars from where he and Welsh sat in the brush approximately 100 yards from a run down building. “We need to know what’s in there,” Nixon said.

“I don’t know who the hell to send,” Welsh said.


“Ask for volunteers.”

“I hate asking for volunteers.”

Nixon gave Welsh a pointed look, “then pick them.”

Blithe, Martin, and Dukeman moved in towards the abandoned manor. The rest of the paratroopers sat hidden in the grass behind Nixon. As they waited for Blithe and the others to get into position Nixon spotted something poking out of Welsh’s backpack.


“Harry, what exactly are you doing with your reserve chute? You been hauling that thing around since we jumped?”

Welsh sucked his teeth, slightly embarrassed he said, “gonna send it to Kitty when we get back to England. Silk, figure it’ll make a good wedding dress, ya know, what with the rationing and all.”

Nixon broke view of where the trio was moving in towards the manor to laugh at Welsh, “jeez Harry, I never would’ve guessed.”

“What? That I’m so sentimental?”

“No, that you think we’re going to make it back to England.” Nixon peered through his binoculars again. His mind flashed to Emily as he watched the men crouch down behind an upturned cart. Bad news, he thought. He had suspected for a while now that Emily may have feelings for Welsh, a man who clearly was intending on marrying his betrothed. No matter how much he flirted, Welsh wouldn’t have bothered lugging that extra chute around if he wasn’t serious about Kitty. Bad news for Emily. Suddenly, a shot rang out.

“Covering fire! Covering fire!” Welsh shouted. Martin and Dukeman pulled a downed Blithe back behind the line. They passed Nixon who saw the blood gushing from the young man’s throat before Doc Roe got to him.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Welsh commanded.

Winters moved up from behind, “what happened?”

“Sniper,” Nixon said coming up to him.

Winters couldn’t take his eyes off the bleeding Blithe, “they’re pulling us off the front line.”

“Now?” Nixon demanded.

Winters turned to him, “to a field camp north of Utah beach. Hot food, and showers.”

With a last mournful look at Blithe, Nixon turned away to head back. Great fucking timing, he raged to himself.

Emily was at the camp surrounded by intelligence staff and nurses, who were busy at work tending the masses of wounded men.


“Nix?” her voice was gentle when he entered the intelligence tent.

“Couldn’t have let us know a little bit sooner? Sent the runner just a few minutes earlier?” he demanded.



“What are you talking about?”

“We were on a patrol and some kid is probably gonna lose his life because that information came a few minutes too late! I sent them in there, I told them to check it out but turns out we didn’t need to!” Nixon pounded his fist on one of the tables.

“Lewis I didn’t know, that information didn’t come from me.”

“You’re intelligence staff! You’re meant to know!”

“I’m not intelligence staff like you are! I’m no S-2,” Emily shouted back, “no one tells me anything!”

Nixon paced the room trying to calm down, “okay, okay,” he leveled his hands on the desk, “I’m sorry. I just -,”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry too,” Emily stood across the table from him, looking small in the dim light of the tent. “I do know one thing,” she said. He looked up, waiting for her to continue, “we’re going back to England.”

“Right, great.” And he stormed out of the tent onto the beach.

His insomnia didn’t improve even knowing that they were going back to a relatively safe zone. It was impossible to sleep with the sounds of men crying out all around and bodies held together by gauze and tape only paces away. Naturally, the night before they were meant to leave, Nixon couldn’t sleep. He grabbed his flask and made his way towards the dunes on the far side of the camp.

He plopped down on a ridge into a bed of marsh grass, the coarse tendrils tickling his wrists and neck. Nixon closed his eyes and inhaled. The whiskey he had guzzled earlier that night had seeped pleasingly through his veins. The summer air blew across the salty water cooling the sweat where it pooled around his collarbone and lower back. It was so peaceful. If it weren’t for the peppering of tents barely visible against the night sky, Nixon could have pretended he was there on holiday and not for a war.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a lean figure making its way up the dune towards him. Nixon braced himself for the quiet wisdom of Winters. However, the figure failed to grow as it approached him, only reaching a height of about 5′5″. The silhouette revealed itself to be Emily, dressed in another pair of slightly oversized O.D.s.

“What?” Nixon barked at her.

“I saw you pass by,” Emily dropped down beside him, bumping his arm on her way down. Disgruntled, Nixon scooted over slightly.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why aren’t you?” Emily retorted.

“Couldn’t.”



“Same here.”

Quiet fell between them, a comfortable quiet but Nixon could sense Emily wanted to say more. Finally, her lips parted and she said, “it’s not something you can get over.”

“What?”



“Seeing the men like that.” Emily searched his face in the dark for any reaction. Nixon stared straight ahead. “It’s disturbing and not something anyone should ever have to witness.”

Nixon licked his lips to speak, but all that came out was, “yeah.”

Emily paused, then reached for his flask. She pulled it from his grasp and took a swig, “It’s over for now. We have to find comfort in that.”

“Right, some comfort in that,” he took the flask back for another drink. They sat there side by side listening to the waves crash against the shoreline. As the night waned on, Emily began to doze off. Her head fell to rest on his shoulder. Nixon considered waking her to walk her back to her tent but then decided against it. He didn’t want to disturb her. If she woke up now who knew if she would be able to fall asleep again. Besides, he enjoyed sharing a little sliver of the world with her in that moment. A sliver that was simple and not perverted by violence.

When the sun rose, she stirred and they both made their way back to their tents for a desperate last few hours of sleep before they were to ship off. As Nixon was boarding the ship he saw Emily standing on the Mulberry harbor hugging a dark, thin woman dressed in a nurses uniform. The woman brushed wild hairs away from Emily’s forehead then pressed something into her hand. Nixon couldn’t help but wonder what that exchange had been about. Out of curiosity, he met Emily at the gangway.

 “Who was that?” he asked.

“Hm?” Emily pulled a paper wrapped candy out of her pocket.

“Who was that woman you were talking to? A nurse?”

“Oh yeah, that’s my friend Marwa.”

“I didn’t know you had female friends.”

Emily rolled her eyes and popped the candy into her mouth.

“What was that?” Nixon pointed to her mouth.

“Ginger candy, you want one?” Emily offered him a candy and Nixon accepted, beginning to feel like his old self again standing next to her.

[zawazawanightmares]

Frost & Evylon

You, Frost (Mortal Kombat), are connected to Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP) Your partner selected the 18+ server. Your partner has a starter. Type /starter or tap here to see it. Frost (Mortal Kombat): /starter

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): Ref: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/740391979531108402/815466779799060500/Empew.full.1560931.jpg

Evylon is an extremely talented archer with a professional demeanour. Perhaps too professional even, the man can't loosen up. Perhaps you could help him with that.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): Several ice daggers hit the tree Evylon was in front of. "You're in my trajectory, elf." Frost coldly stated from a few feet away. "Move or be destroyed."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He jumped as he saw the daggers slam into the tree, both shocked and impressed by the display. "I hardly see how I was in your way... but very well." Evylon said, slowly stepping to the side, a hand cautiously gripping his bow and watching her.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): Frost nodded and dashed forward, almost faster than the human eye could see, and formed an ice sword out of her hand, slashing the tree down.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): Evylon jumped back, drawing an arrow and watching her as the tree fell. "And may I ask what your goals here are? I won't have you destroying the entire forest over whatever it is you're after."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "You're still here?" She sighed as she let the sword melt from her hand. "Of course I'm not going to destroy the entire forest, you moron. I'm just getting in some extra training outside of the temple."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "I have as much of a right to be here as you, do I not?" He responded with a raised brow, firing his bow at the stump she'd left behind, hitting it dead centre. "Just be mindful which trees you chose to slice down then."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "I'll slice down whichever trees I desire." She raised an eyebrow at him. "And, if I were you, I would watch my tone around my betters."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "You should take your own advice. Assuming yourself better to a stranger you don't even know." The elf chuckled slightly.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Assuming myself?" She walked over to the elf, looking him in the eye. "And what makes you think that a simple ranger like yourself is on the same level as an elite member of the Lin Kuei?"

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "I happen to be the best ranger in my village." He responded, looking back at her. "I don't doubt the power of the Lin Kuei, but there's more than one way to be at equal odds with someone."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "There's only one quality in a person that matters and that is strength." She held up hand and clenched it into a fist, allowing water vapor to rise from it. "And I have more than enough of it compared to some elf."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "Ah, I see." He nodded his head, stepping back slightly as he watched her fist. "Strength is the only value you see in people then? No thought to dexterity, intelligence or wisdom?"

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "All important qualities...depending on how much they add to your strength."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "I don't define strength by just raw power, unlike you seem to. There's more than one way to be seen as strong."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Oh? Enlighten me." She lowered her fist only to put both of her hands on her hips.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "There's strength in being smart, wise, diplomatic. Sure, pure battle strength is respectable, but one can be strong beyond mere combat." He answered, resting against the tree stump.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "..." Frost just stared at him before rearing her back and laughing uproarishly, loudly enough that it echoed throughout the forest. Calming down, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Diplomatic? What use is diplomacy when you have strength?"

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): Evylon crossed his arms and simply stared at her until she was done laughing. "Surely you don't believe all problems are solved through just punching things?" He asked with a raised brow. "I scarcely believe the Lin Kuei would operate on brute strength alone."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Of course not. When you cannot solve something through brute force, there is always sabotage." She crossed her arms. "Are you expecting a different value of a clan of assassins?"

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He raises a brow and looks up at her from his seat on the stump. "Surely clans of assassins are capable of silver tongues? You've never persuaded a target to lure them where you want them? Or, dare I say, seduced them?"

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Of course. All to lower their defenses." She stepped closer. "What? Have you?"

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "I've talked my way out of a few fights in my time. Never gone as far as seduction personally." He answered with a shrug. "Still, my point stands, strength is well and good, but you still require other skills to achieve your goals at times."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Talked your way out of a fight...alright, let's see you talk your way out of this." Frost took a few steps back and began to slowly disrobe from her uniform.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): Evylon blinked a few times as she began to disrobe, putting his hands up. "N-Now hold on a moment! I'm not sure what impression I gave you, but I wasn't intending for anything of that nature."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Of what nature?" Now naked, she kicked her uniform aside and began to approach him with a smirk.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "Surely I don't need to explain this to you," Evylon responded, his eyes making sure not to wander as much as they could.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Maybe your mind has wandered into a risque subject?" She was only a foot away from him, giving him a smug look.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "If that's the case, then clearly so has yours if you're willing to strip in front of me." He answered, his eyes darting down and then back up.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): She grinned as she suddenly grabbed his cloak and pulled him close. "So...now's your chance. Talk your way out of this."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He placed his hands on her shoulders to keep his balance as she yanked him in close. "... Look, you're a very attractive woman, but this is simply not the place for this."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Too late..." Her smile turned devious as she flipped him to the forest ground, mounting him and creating an ice dagger to press to his throat.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He gasped as he was shoved to the floor. As he was shoved down, he reached for his quiver of arrows, managing to grab one from it in his hands. As they hit the floor, his own arm reached up, pressing the arrow to her neck. "Alright, you've made your point." He grunted.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Glad to hear it." She got off of him, somewhat annoyed that he was able to counter physically but ultimately happy that she had "won" their discussion. She went over to her uniform to get dressed again.

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He sat upright on the grass, sliding the arrow back into his quiver. "Going as far as letting me see you naked just for that? I suppose I can respect it." He said with a slight chuckle. "And the view wasn't too bad either I suppose."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Tell me something I don't know." Fully dressed, she slipped her mask back on. "So, having got my entertainment for the day, I will be returning to the temple."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He shrugged and stood up, glancing her over one last time before she was fully dressed. "No training then? You only cut down one tree, hardly a workout." He joked, dusting himself off and gathering up his bow.

Frost (Mortal Kombat): She pointed to another spot in the forest, practically a clearing now due to all the trees she cut down. "I was busy before you saw me. Or rather, before I let myself be seen."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): He looked over and took note of all the trees she'd ruined. "Suppose I didn't give you enough credit then. You're an interesting one, that's for sure."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): "Again with the obvious information. You really need to travel." She began to take her leave. "Good day."

Evylon (M / 22 / Elf / Straight / Switch / Lit. S/RP): "Maybe I'll go visit your temple some time then, assuming no one there will immediately slice my head off." He said, giving her a wave. "Good day, please don't cut down any more trees on the way out."

Frost (Mortal Kombat): She waved back. "I can't promise that."

You left the chat

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 15: Sunday, Sunday (A Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

Chapter 15: Sunday, Sunday

                        “It is quite beautiful.” You look around at the beach and water. “I guess the storm is over?”

“I think so,” Henry nods throwing a stick for Kal to fetch. “Like it?”

“I’d like to sit here with a notebook sometime,” you inhale deeply. “Serene.”

“I run here, come here to think,” Henry shrugs with a smile. “The waves are still a bit high today, you know, because of the storm.” Kal brings the stick and he pets him. “Good boy!” He throws it again.

You sit down on a larger rock and stare out at the waters a safe distance away from getting wet, hugging yourself against the chill of early morning. It is a beautiful day. The rocks watch the skies and waters make peace after two long days of turmoil, and you feel like a spectator, listening to the lull of the gentle wind and waves with the occasional but welcome sounds of Henry and Kal playing on the shore. If there was coffee, the world would be perfect.

You reviewed the weekend in your mind, trying to commit every detail to memory. You don’t know how long this is going to last. Henry seems wonderful, and you don’t want it to end, but you want to be as prepared as possible if that is the case.

You hear a click and turn, startled to see him smiling at you with his phone pointed in your direction. “Henry!” you laugh, shaking your head. “I look horrible.”

“Not to me,” he trots to you and sits, pulling you across his lap. He watches your legs wrap around him almost instinctively, and he grins up at you. You both stare into each other’s eyes remembering this was the position you were in last night in the middle of the bed under the moonlight as it peeked through half open shutters. He filled you in so many ways you almost wept, your emotions were running so strong.

You kiss his forehead, his eyes, his nose, and tilt his head back to rub your cheek against his. You sigh heavily and dreamily, holding him close. He was tender, yet a force to be reckoned with in so many ways. He was intelligent, yet at times, well—thick. You chuckle at your thought, and then rub your cheek against him again. He is strong yet vulnerable, like you.

He pulls away gently to look at you. “What are you thinking?”

You are thinking how this weekend changes everything, but you are not sure what that change is. This is daunting and delightfully new territory. You’ve never done this before-and him? You realize maybe you should be more scared and guarded. The man was known for trysts and liaisons, not holding on to anyone longer than a year. You try to keep the sadness from your face and mask it with a small smile.

“So, now, you do know that if Archer does anything at all, I’m taking care of it?”

You blink. “What?”

“Game’s over for him, is all.”

You frown at him. “Game?”

“He didn’t respect my interest in you,” he says, his arms cradling you as his hands splay your upper back and he kisses your neck before sayin, “and now he’d better.”

“Henry-!” You hear desire and danger in his whispered tone. You look at him, and he has a look that tells you this could be an argument. “You can’t—"

He frowns up at you and says, “I’m sorry, I just don’t take kindly to how he acted. Tomorrow, I’m getting to the bottom of it at the gym.”

“What?” you feel a sudden panic. “What?” Your mind is racing.

“I just feel like your being left was not accidental,” his voice is deep again, his blue eyes sparking. “and it was in bad taste, not to mention dangerous.”

“But I’m alright—”

“Yes, but that is not his doing,” he bit out.

“How about you let me talk to him?” you ask, framing his face with your hands. The look on Henry’s face looks like he is going to hurl accusations, not investigate. “I may be able to find out what really happened.”

“Did you talk to Stella?”

“Yes, I did,” you say slowly. “She was still upset about the whole thing, and she said that Archer had turned around, but then you came.”

“Hmm,” Henry’s eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “So, what about Hannah?”

You sigh. This was what you didn’t want to talk about. “She and I aren’t close.”

“But you, Stella and Hannah came from the Palmer,” Henry replied, searching my eyes. “I remember her-your bunkmates? She and Stella saw us that morning.”

“Yes, and she saw me at the job interview.”

Henry’s exhale ended in a look of displeasure. “Do you think she is capable of such things?”

“I don’t think so,” you say quickly, but Henry’s look silently demands the truth. “I don’t know.” You brighten on purpose. Tomorrow is day away, and you no longer want to talk about it. “Kind of a chilly day. How about some cajun soup?”

“It’s Sunday—”

“The ingredients are at my place, I was going to bring them over and cook for you.”

That made him smile. “Let’s get them before we hole up again, hmm?”

Hours later you are back at his place, and the whole house smells of bread, coffee and spices. Henry insists on making bread to go with your soup.

You serve him up some, and he digs in. He gives a small cough. “Spicy.”

“Take your time, you can’t wolf that down,” you warn. “The spices demand their respect.”

With a raise of his eyebrows, he spoons out the soup more slowly. You cut some bread and bring him and butter  with it. He looks at it and looks up at you. “Thank you, darling.”

“No prob,” you smile.

“Sit with me.”

“Dishes.”

“I’ll help you with those.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Sit with me, please?”

You can’t say no when he looks like that. You serve yourself a small bowl and cut the warm bread, buttering it with ease. “This is going to be good.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he nods. He looks at Kal, who is eating his food in the corner of the kitchen and then back at you. He stares at you.

“What?”

“You look nice in my sweater,” he smiles at you.

“Thanks—oh!” You realize you forgot to get clothes! “I forgot my clothes, babe!”

His smile widens. “It’s okay. Remember you never really used that change of clothes—well, except the underwear.”

You realize this is the first time you called him anything other than his name and feel a flush of heat. You feel a little embarrassed, but he’s been calling you all sorts of endearments. It was bound to happen and it isn’t a bad thing.

With the exception of studying his script and running lines, the day is very laid back. You both smell rain and take Kal out before it does.

As night falls, you start getting ready for Monday. You shake your head at Henry, who is on his hamster wheel of an exercise bike.

“What?” he huffs.

“I cycle.”

“Ah, what is this?”

“Spinning.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, you don’t have to maintain core balance, so it’s just cardio and motion.”

“That’s right, you cycle-love not being at point A or point B but someplace in between.”

Another quote from one of your web pages. “Trains have that effect, too.”

“Well—” he smiles widely. “Give it a try.” You hear a beep and he swings off. “Five minutes?”

You smirk and you swing on. “Can I have something to look at?”

“What a baby!” He teases. He pulls turns his computer screen toward you. “English countryside?”

“Sure.” You smirk.

He starts the video and sets the bike. “There—” he smacks your rear soundly. “off you go!” He throws his towel over his shoulder and walks away.

You do the short program and realize the difficulty levels are a decent leg workout and you break a sweat. You still prefer cycling outside though. When you are done with the program you realize he set it for ten minutes instead of five, the stinker! You swing off, and move through the house. “Henry, you butthead, you set the bike for—” Your voice dies in your throat.

“Ah, just in time,” he smiles, his eyes full of humor as he walks by in nothing but a towel. “Shower?”

You start undressing as you follow him, leaving a trail of semi-sweaty clothes behind you. By the time you step in the water is running and he has already begun bathing. He stops, however, to grab you by your waist and draw you to him.

“God you’re slow.”

“Am not,” you retort childishly. “you had a headstart—” You are cut off my his kiss as he washes and shampoos. His eyes are closed and you get to just stare at him.

He turns away. “Get my back?”

You take the sponge away from him and alternate between scrubbing and gliding over his skin.

“Ah, I had a feeling you would do that,” his voice sounds soft and breathy. “Would it be too much trouble for you to—”

You go lower to his lower back and glutes, making him laugh softly. You then put the sponge in your other hand and return to him, moving your hand to cup him where he is soft, gently massaging and caressing him, then moving over his growing shaft as he spreads his legs and puts his palms against the shower wall, moaning.

“Darling, darling if you keep….ohhh….” he hisses, surrendering to your caress as his hips begin to sway to meet your movements and your thumb caresses the tip alternately. You hold him close with your other hand, kissing his spine and rubbing up against him. His soft moans blend with the sound of the shower until he whispers your name in that certain way and you feel a wave warmer than the shower water move over you. You hope to hear him say your name like that again, and you never want to forget it-the tone, the volume, the heat-never.

Monday’s going to be interesting isn’t it? Stay tuned, and if you want to be tagged, let me know. Follow if you want to look at other Cavill stories. 

Thanks, Tagmates:

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomniacbookgirl @jencanbeyouryengeralt​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @maryann84 @omgkatinka​ @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae​ @henryobsessed​ @summersong69​ @kinbhot4henners​ @sunshine96love​ @michelehansel​ @radofrivia @thelastsock​ @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn @mrskikkirazz @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @michelehansel

Hope to hear from you all-love comments. Wisdom and wellness to you!

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #103: Thomas Edison

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the king of inventions, the Presi-King of the US of A, and the man who turned every president of the United States into his underwear, Thomas Edison! This inventor’s one cool cat, with a World Faith Domination that can alter the hearts and minds of a nation while also shutting down any other illusions that might be affecting them. You also make robots sometimes. You also, of course, get plenty of that good ol’ American DC current!

Check out the Presi-king’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: What’s that thing you shout when you jump off stuff again?

Race and Background

The good Presi-king’s a cat, but he’s a lot chunkier than most of the ones we’ve built so far. Fortunately, WotC have us covered with the Leonin. We’re also using Tasha’s variant race rules to mix up the ability score bonuses. Being a Leonin gives Eddy boy +2 Constitution and +1 Intelligence. He also gets Darkvision, Claws for additional unarmed damage, Hunter’s Instincts, giving him proficiency in Athletics, and a Daunting Roar, using a bonus action to force a wisdom save (DC 8 plus your constitution modifier plus your proficiency bonus) against nearby creatures, frightening them if they fail, once per short rest.

He’s also a Guild Artisan, for Insight and Persuasion proficiency. The sciences aren’t big in the Forgotten Realms, but he’s good enough at building things to get by.

Ability Scores

Put your highest ability into Intelligence. The king of inventors is smart, pretty simple. After that is Charisma, you can put on a good show when you have to. Follow this up with Dexterity, then Constitution. You’re a nerd, but you’ve got a fancy outfit on that helps a bit. This does mean your Strength is a little low, but we’ll get ways to fix that later. We’re dumping Wisdom though. History has proven that direct current just isn’t as good as alternating current in most instances. Also you’re happy to waste tons of resources on your schemes as long as they don’t come from America, which is pretty unwise.

Class Levels

1. Artificer 1: No points for guessing this one. First level artificers have proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as Arcana (which is the closest thing to science in D&D) and Investigation. You also get Magical Tinkering, which adds minor effects to small items, and Intelligence based Spells. 

Speaking of spells, you get first level spells now, plus some cantrips. You can technically use all of them, but you have to prepare them beforehand. With a limited amount of prep, you have to pick and choose what you focus on. For cantrips, Lightning Lure adds a little spark to your life, and Dancing Lights puts on a show when necessary. You can also prepare spells like Grease, Alarm, and Snare as your first inventions. You can also learn Identify to investigate other items you come across, and turn them into your own with some improvements.

2. Artificer 2: Speaking of improvements, second level artificers can actually do that with Infuse Item. After working on an item over your long rest, you can add an infusion to it that lasts until you die or you infuse more than your limit. At level two, you can make an Armor of Magical Strength, which will give you a limited use muscle body. When you make a strength check or save you can use one of six charges to add your intelligence modifier to the roll. You can also spend a charge to avoid falling prone. An Enhanced Weapon might also be a good fit for your fighters, adding 1 to all attack and damage rolls. Sending Stones are more Bell’s thing, but he’s not here, so he won’t mind. Finally, you can also make a Homunculus Servant for the start of your mighty robot army.

3. Artificer 3: We’ll continue to build your army by becoming a Battle Smith, gaining you extra spells like Heroism and Shield to inspire and protect your meatshields. You’re also Battle Ready, allowing you to use martial weapons (that’ll come in handy later) and use your intelligence instead of strength when attacking with magic weapons.

You can also build a Steel Defender, though sadly only one. It’s a medium construct that can make melee attacks, heal itself and other constructs, though only if you spend your bonus action each turn commanding it to do so. It’s built-in hardware only has melee attacks, but building a gun shouldn’t be too complicated for you.

You can also build The Right Tool for the Job over a short rest, magically creating a set of artisan’s tools.

4. Artificer 4: Now that we have martial weapons proficiency, use this Ability Score Increase to get the Fighting Initiate feat for a new fighting style. The Unarmed Fighting style will add even more oomph to your punches than before. I’d argue that magicking up some gloves with tinkering would count them as magic weapons, but that’s something to argue with your DM over. You’ll be good either way by the end of the build, but that would get your there much faster. 

5. Wizard 1: Speaking of complicated, here’s a billion extra spells. Wizards get a whole new list that’s kept in their spellbook and use Intelligence to cast. You also gain an Arcane Recovery, letting you recover spell slots on a short rest with a total level equal to half your wizard level rounded up.

For cantrips, Light and Prestidigitation will help you put on a show, and Mending can repair your Steel Defender for free. You can also make a horror movie to Cause Fear, use Color Spray to blind people with science, Magic Missile for caster balls, Unseen Servant for another robot buddy, Silent Image for classic films, and Protection from Evil and Good for the anti-mysticism effects.

(We know Unseen Servant doesn’t have an actual visible body, but it’s a straight downgrade from RAW, so it’s an easy sell for your DM.)

6. Wizard 2: You make movies, and the closest thing we can get in D&D would be Illusions. As an Illusion Savant, it costs you half as much gold to copy illusion spells. You also get an Improved Minor Illusion that can create sound and images at the same time.

You also get Tenser’s Floating Disk for a carrier robot, and Find Familiar for yet another non-combat drone. For those of you playing along at home, you can now have a familiar, a defender, a homunculus, and either a servant or floating disk with concentration. You’re not exactly a military powerhouse yet, but you’re getting there.

7. Artificer 5: Fifth level artificers get an Extra Attack each attack action, as well as second level spells. Your specialties are Branding Smite and Warding Bond, but you can also make Magic Mouths to leave behind recordings, and use See Invisibility to look past others’ illusions.

8. Artificer 6: Sixth level artificers have Tool Expertise, doubling your tool proficiencies. You can also make another infusion at once, and learn two more to fill that slot. A Spell-Refueling Ring is great for casters pulling an all-nighter, and Gloves of Thievery aren’t really in character, but they’re an excuse to use Battle Ready with your unarmed attacks.

9. Artificer 7: Every once in a while you have a Flash of Genius. Normally this would lead to some country that isn’t America getting ransacked for natural resources, but in D&D it means you can react to add your intelligence modifier to any saving throw or check done within 30 feet of you. This can be used a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

10. Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells. You specifically get Dragon’s Breath and Enhance Ability to improve your robots’ combat capabilities. (I mean, breathing fire would improve anything’s combat capabilities, but using it on your robots is in character.)

11. Wizard 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence for better... well, everything. You also get the Friends cantrip and Suggestion spell to help bury that busybody Tesla with your social connections, and Flock of Familiars for, you guessed it, more robots.

12. Wizard 5: Fifth level wizards get third level spells, like Dispel Magic and Remove Curse for more anti-mysticism tech.

13. Wizard 6: Sixth level illusionists can make Malleable Illusions, allowing you to change what an illusion spell you’ve cast is depicting as an action. You can also cast Major Image now, and Lightning Bolt will bolster your lagging electrical toolkit.

14. Artificer 8: Eighth level artificers get another ASI and not much else, but it does mean your Intelligence is now maxed out for the strongest spells and most flashes of genius possible.

15. Artificer 9: Your Arcane Jolt can deal extra damage or heal people when you hit a creature with your own magical weapons or your steel defender. When you’re as busy as you are, fitting as much into a single action as possible is paramount.

You also get third level spells again, specializing in an Aura of Vitality and the ability to Conjure Barrage. You can also create a Tiny Servant for yet another construct, or use Protection from Energy and Elemental Weapon to add even more electricity into your party’s life.

16. Artificer 10: Tenth level artificers are Magic Item Adepts, letting you attune for four magic items at once, and crafting common and uncommon magic items are much faster and cheaper. 

You can also cast Guidance now, because why not, and learn two more invocations. Helm of Awareness gives you more situational awareness, and Gauntlets of Ogre Strength gives you punches that don’t require technicalities to deal damage.

17. Artificer 11: Eleventh level artificers can make Spell Storing Items, storing magical effects in weapons and focii. The spell has to be on the artificer list, 2nd level or lower, and take one action to cast.

18. Artificer 12: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for a better AC. Your armor’s pretty good, but you should help it where you can.

19. Artificer 13: After five levels, you finally bump up to fourth level spells, with the specialty spells Aura of Purity and Fire Shield. You can also Fabricate items out of nothing, and your robot army finally gets more power with Mordenkainen’s Faithful Hound and Summon Construct. (Like Unseen Servant, the Faithful Hound shouldn’t be visible, but again, an easy sell to your DM.)

20. Artificer 14: Your capstone level makes you a Magic Item Savant, giving you yet another attunement slot, and the ability to ignore class and race requirements when using magic items.

You also get Mage Hand for another kind of drone, and two new infusions. Amulet of Health will make you a bit tougher, and Gem of Seeing will help you see through enemy illusions for one final bit of anti-mystic technology.

Pros:

With proper flavoring, your robot army can be super useful, despite the small number of them that can directly attack creatures. Use familiars to revive fallen teammates or even turn macguffins into Tiny Servants at a distance, TS up your fighter’s crossbow so it’ll reload itself, or use unseen servants as stealth bombers. The world is your toolbox.

You’re also good at destroying other magic, with magic items to help see through illusions and invisibility and spells like Dispel Magic and Remove Curse to tear up mysticism affecting your party and your path forward.

Your spells and artifacts are powerful, but there’s something to be said for just being able to punch people. Maybe your DM wants to take you down a peg by tearing up all your robots, only to get the shock of their life when you’re still able to hold your own.

Cons:

While you can survive without your infusions, you’re still tied to your gear in the long run, with infusions providing you the toughness necessary to get into melee range to begin with, and your spellbook holding a sizeable chunk of what you can cast at any given time.

You also have low wisdom, so without your gear you might have a hard time seeing through illusions.

Despite your impressive physique and robot army, most of your gear is suited for indirect combat at best. You can punch and shoot lightning if you have to, but getting other people to be the muscle is still going to be your plan A.

[loki-godofmischief-myking]

Remnant Daughter

Loki x Deceased!Reader x Daughter OC

Loki loved you. There was no one else he loved more than you. The day you died he resolved to protect that love that had resulted in a daughter. She was a perfect reminder of you, one he would preserve. No harm would ever come to her so long as he lived. 

Warning: None really. Just note that here Loki never tried taking over Midgard. When he found out his Jotun heritage he didn’t resent Odin and Frigga, rather thanked them for his upbringing.

“Loki-”

Loki tossed and turned in his bed as he heard his name being called out. The voice was meek and full of desperation. His skin began to turn blue as his mind took him back to the day he lost you.

Your lower body shook and trembled as you had yet to recover from delivering your baby daughter. One hand kept you stable along the cold cavern walls as the other held your newborn close to your chest. 

A cold huff of air escaped you as you got closer to the cavern’s opening where you could hear your husband fending off the intruders.

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had not been easy. Only Jotunheim housed the climate appropriate for your half-Jotun daughter. You were near death when you arrived, your skin burning to the touch. Only Loki was able to handle your feverish skin long enough to get you to where you had to be. 

After finding out his true parentage Loki remained in Asgard- where his beloved was. All for you, he gave up his line to the throne letting it go to Laufey’s other son. A son who hated Loki’s very existence.

When he had gotten word of his being within the realm he sent for him. That is when they caught wind of his reason for coming back. Laufeyson ordered your child be taken and killed to honor his father’s wish that would have seen Loki dead in the first place.

Loki would never allow any harm upon his child. A child you had desperately wanted in order to complete the vision of a perfect family you always painted for him. 

In full Jotun form, Loki growled, “Leave while I allow it.”

The Jotuns towered over him still, not backing down after being given strict orders from their king. 

“Loki,” you happily sighed as you saw your husband was unharmed.

Loki’s chest constricted once he heard the sweet sound of your voice. Only in his sleep could he accurately recall how truly beautiful a sound it was.

Without a moment to spare you had your free arm wrapped around him as your daughter was warmly nestled between you. “Thank Norns you are safe.”

He returned your embrace kissing the top of your head before tucking it under his chin. “You should not be out here, it is not safe. He will send others.”

“How can I remain hidden and do nothing when you are outnumbered? I am your wife, I will forever stand by your side.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he desperately tried to will himself awake knowing very well what came next. But his efforts were fruitless as his mind made him relive the most traumatic moment of his life. 

"Choose, your wife or your daughter?” 

“Don’t you dare harm her!” 

Laufeyson inched his ax closer to your neck when Loki took a step towards him, making you feel the sharp edge against your rapidly cooling skin. He had stripped you of the warm fur-lined coat that had kept your body temperature stable in the harsh cold of the realm. The thin Asgardian dress did little to shield you from the sharp winds. Hypothermia would soon claim you who was not built for such an environment. 

Loki tried to keep from showing how horrified he was by the decision. He could see the fear in your eyes, the paling of your skin, and the soft whimpering of his newborn which he held in his arms. It was impossible to choose. 

He could never hand over his daughter and yet he could not fathom the idea of returning to Asgard without you.

“Daddy~”

“Choose!”

“L-loki,” you shivered. “Please take her and go,” you begged him through teary eyes. Of course, you did not want to die but you would give your life for his and hers. You wanted nothing more than their happiness.

“I can’t-”

“Please just...” you knew Loki would never make the decision. You knew you had to make it for him.

His eyes widened as he saw your hand discreetly pull a dagger out of your sleeve as you wordlessly mouthed your final confession of love for him.

Loki’s eyes shot open when small hands began to hit his chest repeatedly. His ragged breathing came to a halt when he saw the look of concern on his five-year-old daughter.

“Kari, what are you doing here?”

“I could not sleep.” 

Her bright red eyes examined his expression knowing very well that this was the case for him as well. Unlike Loki, she had no control over her eyes as they remained her natural Jotun red but lacked the sheer darkness behind them. There was a gleam that illuminated them, undeniably inherited from you. That very same gleam that had gotten him to notice you when he had been surrounded by women who only sought him for his title.

“You were having a bad dream Daddy.” In an effort to comfort her father Kari wrapped her little arms around his torso laying her head against his chest. “Was it about Mommy?”

As he looked down at her he could not help but remember the way you would cling to him begging him to stay with you a moment longer instead of going about his duties. If he knew then how limited his time with you would be... he would have fulfilled your every wish. Now all he could do was regret. 

“It was,” he responded by putting his own arms around her and kissing the top of her head. 

Kari immediately looked up giving him a look of sorrow. “Daddy,” her eyes silently apologized for your absence. “Mommy isn’t here but I am. Kari will always be here for you.”

The heart-wrenching words of his concerned daughter had Loki smiling. He tucked her in with a light-hearted chuckle to show he had been relieved of his lamentations. 

Once again she was his strength. 

“I know my dear.”

He would live to protect this last remnant of you.

\\\

“If you have already finished the reading then perhaps it is time we introduce you to more complex literature.”

Kari sighed as she followed behind her grandfather’s advisor. He was a tutor to her when it came to diplomacy. As a princess Kari was expected to learn everything there was to be known about all the realms. 

“Here,” the elder man handed her a rather large and heavy book. “This will be of use to you. I remember when I first read it. I was much younger then.”

“The reason I read so quickly is to rid myself of my duties. Had I known this was going to happen I would have dozed off longer.”

“Princess you have been gifted with a mind like no other.” He smiled at the young girl showing he meant well. “Your mother read her way through this library. She was always searching always wondering, a true scholar. Your father and mother were different in every sense. This was the only place they ever crossed paths.”

“So I hear... but I’m not nearly as interested in dusty old books.” She was an eight-year-old girl who wished to have fun with the other children. Until now she had been urged from one lesson to another. Diplomacy, etiquette, magic, archery, economics, language, astrology, and worst of all- math. But it mattered not what task they put in front of her. The young girl was incredibly talented with unmatched intelligence and natural charisma. 

“I want to have fun.”

So much so that at times everyone was thankful Loki was so strict on her.

“What would your Highness consider fun?”

Kari shrugged, fun was never something she strived for. Only recently had the word come about after she heard the other noble children raving about how they spent their days riding horses to a secret waterfall the adults knew not of. And through books, she learned the most fun realm of all was Midgard.

“I would like to go to another realm.”

“Another realm?”

The little girl nodded, “I wish to see things for myself rather than read someone else’s account.” Her eyes trained themselves on the rainbow bridge which she could make out in the distance from the window. “Someday I will travel and become master of all realms.”

“How ambitious of you little one.”

Kari beamed as she heard her grandmother’s voice. 

“Queen Frigga,” the advisor gave a curt bow of his head which she acknowledged. At the same time, he was relieved of his duties as Kari’s tutor to be turned over to her. He left the royals with a cautionary warning to the young one that she should not overlook the wisdom of old dusty books.

Being in the presence of her grandmother Kari knew she could relax, evident by the way she rid herself of the glamour spell she had perfected to conceal her bright red eyes with beautiful gold irises. Although beautiful she much rather preferred that which made her different. 

“Much better,” she exhaled contently.

Frigga smiled, “My...what a beautiful granddaughter I have been bestowed.” Her hand gently prodded Kari’s chin to tilt her head up so she could meet her eyes. 

The compliment immediately gained Kari’s laughter. “You always say that...”

“And I always mean it.”

The little girl’s smile reached her eyes only to be withdrawn when she heard the familiar grumbling of her grandfather. “Kari!” He sternly called her name, not a fan of her openly displaying her Jotun heritage. 

Immediately she hid her eyes from view. 

“What have I told you?”

Kari sighed, the lecture had been engraved in her memory. “That I must adapt to what Asgard expects of me... and what they expect is a well-mannered, well-bred Asgardian princess.”

The rest of Asgard knew not of Loki’s lineage. For his sake and now for Kari’s sake, Odin had them conceal their Jotun attributes in order to keep any from questioning Loki as a prince of Asgard. This was helped by the fact that you, a sensible young woman from a noble family took an interest in his son. You hid the truth well even from your own family who to this day believe you had died of complications during childbirth. 

They never approved of your relationship with Loki, in turn, they despised Kari for causing your premature death. 

This was something Kari had no knowledge of. Loki made sure her life was nothing but positive. If ever an inconvenience arose he would deal with it. Therefore your family no longer resided in Asgard. 

“Do not be so hard on her, she is only a child.”

Odin sighed knowing there was truth to Frigga’s statement but he was only looking out for his granddaughter. He truly cared for her. He had to ensure her future as a princess of Asgard. “She is the firstborn princess of Asgard. It is a title she must not take lightly.”

Loki appeared as if out of nowhere, his hands behind his back as he sported a playful smirk. “I really do wish Thor would just marry and give you other grandchildren to torment.” 

He was grateful for Odin taking him in but knew all his life he had been at a disadvantage with Thor who was a blood son. He knew once his brother had children Odin would turn his attentions to them the future Kings or Queens of Asgard. 

“Loki!” Frigga warned her youngest son to watch what he said, especially in front of Kari.

“Daddy,” Kari ran into her father’s arms happy to see he was back. Her arms latched around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you, my little one.” One arm carried her weight while the other hand gave her full head of silk-like hair a pat. 

Odin remained silent not justifying himself to Loki. He had his reasons for doing things the way he did just as Loki had his.

Thor soon appeared as well having been left behind by his brother. 

“Uncle Thor,” one hand reached out to him wanting to also greet him but not enough to let go of her father. 

“Kari, my sweet princess.” He smiled brightly at the affectionate scene before him of his niece latching onto his brother. Never had he seen him so openly display affection before Kari’s birth. Even with you, he seemed to hide his attraction making others question the validity of your relationship at one point. He reached out to hold her hand in his and kissed the top. “I hope you have behaved yourself while we were gone.”

“Of course she has.” “Of course I have.” Father and daughter simultaneously respond.

“Then I suppose we can bestow you with the gift we have brought.”

Kari’s eyes lit up. “A gift!”

The entire royal family had trekked out into the stables where Kari’s gift lay in wait. A gift that was actually not from her uncle or father. 

A crowd of people was gathered in awe at the gift. For many this was a new creature for others it was a memory of the past for there had been many in Asgard until they went extinct. They waited to hear how the creature had ended up here.

“Alfheim has gifted one of their precious unicorns to the firstborn princess of Asgard.”

Kari gasped seeing the white unicorn that stood as a stark contrast to the surrounding horses. The unicorn’s distinct horn was incredibly long and shiny, when the light caught it there seemed to be an iridescent shine like opal or pearl. The mane was hard to describe in one word. It was white but somewhere in between, it seemed to give a hint of blue shine. One thing was for sure, the mane was long and silky in the way each strand fell perfectly back in place. 

“Is it really for me?” She held her father’s hand tight with giddiness. 

Loki was not fond of the idea of his daughter riding but had to admit defeat at the happiness she was radiating. “If you promise to behave and take lessons before attempting to ride him-” 

“Him, hmmm...” The young girl tapped her chin in her pursuit of a suitable name for her beautiful new companion. Her hand slipped out of her father’s to approach the magical looking creature. That is how she was able to see the sporadic deep blue streaks of hair that were outnumbered by the white. “Azure,” she spoke mostly to herself yet to the unicorn. “Did you know there are hundreds of words for the color blue. There are many languages and dialects each with their own word.” Her hand gently ran through the ends of his mane, the only part she could reach. “You look more like an Azure.”

“What a lovely name my dear,” Frigga beamed seeing how her spirit had been lifted after being reprimanded by Odin.

“Yes, but what good is a horse you can not ride.” Thor, the ever fun-loving uncle that he was, went against his brother’s wishes and lifted his niece up onto the unicorn’s back.

“It is not your ordinary horse you oaf!” Loki scolded. His brother knew not of a unicorn’s differing mannerisms and personalities to horses. They were far more gentle creatures with the temper of a bull and the charge of a rhino only far more dangerous with that sharp horn of theirs. 

Kari was fighting with her urge to go along with her uncle or listen to her father’s demand for her to get off.

“Come now brother, nothing will happen. Let our young princess have some fun, Odin knows you did when you were younger.” With that Thor mounted Azure keeping his niece safely between his arms as he took the reigns. 

To Loki’s surprise, Azure listened to Thor entertaining them with a steady gallop.

Odin’s lips seemed to curl up into a brief smile that only Frigga caught before he retired back into the palace.  She brought her hand onto her son’s shoulder assuring him there was no harm.

Loki’s worries were only put to rest by Kari’s laughter. His daughter’s quick liking to the animal reminded him of you.

Loki smirked using your lack of agility to his advantage as he stole your current interest right out of your hands. He held the book above your reach to examine it. “What has my love so interested in Alfheim?”

Your brow furrowed in discontent, “It is none of your concern-”

“If you wish to visit you only need say so.”

The book was handed back to you allowing you something to grasp while you remind him of your situation. “You already know that is impossible when all of Asgard is watching us.”

You had married Loki only a few months ago and were determined to do everything in your power to earn your place. There were still too many who did not acknowledge your marriage to Loki simply because they thought Thor should be first to marry. 

“You worry too much.”

“Do I?”

Loki nodded, “Now tell me why Alfheim?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns,” Loki eyed you with skepticism. “A realm known for its magical knowledge, nature, music... and you simply want to see a horned horse?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Unicorns are said to be magical creatures. The alicorn being the source of their magical and medicinal properties.”

Loki recalled watching you flip through books as you animatedly recounted your research on the rare creature. He could only imagine you would smile just as brightly upon the unicorn’s arrival.

Kari interrupted his thoughts when she came running to him. “Did you see me?”

“You were wonderful my little one.”

Although his lips were curled into a smile Kari could easily read her father. There was a certain look in his eyes, darkness, whenever he became saddened by the thought of you.

“I love you Daddy,” these four words were her magical tool against her father’s dark thoughts. She need only say it once for him to come back to his senses.

Loki truly smiled now, wonderfully surprised by his daughter’s sentiment. “I love you too.”

The young girl wondered if someday she could take her father’s pain away. She wanted him to be the fun mischievous person everyone always recalled in their stories of times before she was born. 

That night Kari would not go to bed no matter how many times her nursemaid tried to coax her. She relentlessly went on about waiting for her father to be done so he could tuck her in like when she was younger.

“Princess your father is very busy-”

“I can wait.”

“Please princess have mercy on me. Your father will be very displeased with me if I do not complete my tasks.” 

Kari had seen many nursemaids come and go throughout her short years. Each one having been replaced after Loki saw they were not fit to uphold his standards or if one got too attached to her. 

He did not wish for anyone to play the role of mother to Kari. His daughter already had a mother. 

“That is not my problem,” Kari crossed her arms over her chest standing firm. “I will do as I please until my father retires for the night.”

The nursemaid sighed unable to do anything but wait to be reprimanded and perhaps sent to another noble family to care for their children. 

Hours later Loki had yet to retire. 

Kari sleepily hung onto hope for a bit longer before going across the hall to his rooms in search of him. She pushed the heavy door to gain entrance into the silent chambers. 

She knew if she would just call out to him he would appear before her but this time around she was curious to know why he had not come to see her. That’s when she heard a muffled sound coming from his study, the door slightly ajar.

Loki sat back in his chair, a chalice of mulled wine in his hand while he faced the farthest wall where a portrait of you hung as the only decoration. It was commissioned post-mortem when he realized there were no portraits of only you. 

He concentrated greatly needing more time than usual to picture you in all your glory. Then in a second, you were standing before him in golden shine. It was an illusion he had created of you.

“It’s getting harder-” A knot in his throat stopped him mid-sentence. The thought of possibly forgetting you was more than he could handle. “Why can’t I summon you at will?”

The illusion of you stood still flickering slightly when he took a drink.

Lately, he could only remember you in your last moments of life. He found himself forgetting the finer details of your appearance and personality.

“I forget my love... did you like postmodern romanticism or was it transcendentalism?”

He took another drink and yet again you flickered.

Loki stared at the illusion he had made, judging the appearance. He always remembered that pale green dress you wore when he first noticed you. It fit you well, hugged all the right places and complimented your lustrous skin. Your hair and your face- he gripped the chalice trying to recall the color and feel.

The image that came to mind was much to generic for his liking... just like the portrait.

He stood up approaching the illusion and looked up at the portrait. 

“Sure it is beautiful,” he admitted. It resembled you but was it truly you. “No one can ever accurately capture you, my love.”

Kari’s eyes teared up when she heard how hard it was getting for her father to speak.

“And your voice...” 

“Loki,” the illusion called to him in your voice- or at least what he thought was your voice. “Loki, my love.”

“How I wish to hear it.” A tear finally found its way down Loki’s cheek as he resigned himself to the fact that even he couldn’t reproduce the sweet sound of your voice.

In his dreams, he heard it but it was always followed by your cries of pain.

“I love you Loki,” the illusion smiled with a tilt of its head in the same way you would every time you playfully professed your love to him.

When the chalice was empty Loki picked up the bottle and drank directly from it. The illusion flickered continuously until he had downed the entirety of it.

Kari stepped into the study now fully in tears from what she was seeing.

“Daddy...”

Loki quickly turned to see his daughter cautiously approaching him. “Kari-” he wanted to reprimand her for not being in bed but found it difficult when she was sorrowfully staring at his illusion of you.

Up until now, he had been careful not to do this in front of her. He knew it would be too much of an emotional trigger. He could hardly handle it himself. When he made a gesture to be rid of it Kari stopped him.

“Wait-” Her small hands reached out to him. Now it was she who compared the illusion to the portrait above. All she had ever seen was that portrait but never imagined her mother’s voice.

“C-can she-” she was almost afraid to ask. As if her father would deny her request. “Can she say my name?”

Loki inhaled sharply. His daughter’s request was difficult but not impossible.

“Kari~” the illusion called out effectively rendering the little girl motionless. This time Loki managed to envision your joyous expression upon his return from long trips. He had the illusion give a similar smile and say, “I love you Kari.”

“I love you too Mommy-”

The little girl’s lips trembled unable to stop herself from crying profusely. She had never met this woman yet she felt so strongly about her.

His daughter’s tears were sobering. Loki put down the bottle he had so viciously been gripping onto. He knelt down in front of his young daughter, the illusion now vanishing into nothing but golden specs of light. 

“Kari-”

"Daddy...” Kari’s small arms wrapped around her father as she continued to cry into his chest.

Loki held her silently. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. For years he had tried finding comfort from the neverending pain he felt after your loss. But nothing could ever fill the void you left behind.

At one point he damned you for making him fall in love with you. He damned the empty promises of forever. You dared entice him with the picture of eternal love and a family to cherish and call his own only to leave him behind.

But in the end, he knew it was all worth it. 

Loving you gave his life new meaning. 

Before you, he never imagined himself as a father and now he couldn’t imagine a life without his precious daughter. 

Kari found comfort in her father’s embrace although she didn’t care too much for the smell of alcohol on him. The gentle caress of her hair and the slight pressure atop her head of his lips seemed to coax her out of the mournful sorrow she was suddenly hurled into. 

Slowly the tears began to dry up and she was able to find her voice again.

“Daddy... Do you think- do you think she would have loved me?”

“She loved you before you were even born.”

“Really?” Kari looked up with swollen eyes and a runny nose.

Loki nodded, “She couldn’t wait to meet you.” 

He recalled your constant lack of interest in him as you worried over your growing belly.

“Do you think this is normal?” 

You continued to inspect your reflection in the mirror as you stood in front of it with only a towel wrapped around you. It had become a regular occurrence after your bath. Your hands were on your protruding belly but your eyes were on Loki as he approached you from behind.

Loki placed his hands on top of yours not really focusing on your question but on the way you had completely let your guard down. His lips found your bare shoulder to be much more important. 

“I doubt there is something I know that you do not my lovely wife.” His lips lightly trailed kisses up along your neck as he continued to whisper loving words into your ear. “But I do know I can hardly keep my hands off you when you are this enticing.”

“Forever the silver-tongued prince...”

“Forever the beautiful vixen who seduced this prince.”

You laughed, “Seriously Loki... do you think she is alright?”

“Do not worry, everything will be fine.”

"Even now she loves you...” 

“Really?” He nodded in affirmation but Kari was still unconvinced. 

Loki was always known for his lies but he dare not deceive his own daughter. You were a mother who gave her own life for her daughter. Although he couldn’t tell her this now, in the future she would know it.

She would know how you protected her.

She would know how much you loved her...how much you loved them.

She would know of your loving sacrifice.

“Trust me little one.”

-end-

A/N: Sorry for the long unexplained hiatus. In the meantime, I hope you accept this humble offering as an apology for my absence.

[indianstories]

SHARDA and ABDUL

SHARDA AND ABDUL

Sharda and her family lived in old Mysore area of kopal, a locality of mixed Hindu and Muslim population as the occupants were all poor people, below poverty line, who were allotted government built housing through a lottery draw. Obviously the neighbors were not by choice but by lottery. This proved to be one of the most successful ways to promote mixed community living and cultural tolerance besides building understanding and amity.  People of Kopal lived in harmony for decades, the call from Mosque and slokas from the loudspeakers of Temple and Bells from the Church were all revered by all. Sharda’s mother Madhu was a school teacher. Madhu was married to Raju a street hawker who sold cut spicy masala smeared cucumbers in front of the government school. Raju had neither influence nor money to bribe, to get a job in the government. He felt that there no harm in selling cucumber and earn the same money. Madhu married Raju against her parents’ wishes as she was from an upper caste orthodox Brahmin family and Raju ,a handsome man, an unemployed graduate of History, was from the backword tribes community. Sharda was the only child to them and was an extremely pretty girl, brownish color, dark long hair drooping down to below her hips. They were so thick that her mother would tie two braids and fold them still to see them hanging up to her back. Her beautiful eyes white like that of a gazelle, her smile would compel to stop a passer-by  for a glance of her perfect set of white teeth and a killing smile with dimple on her cheeks. Raju and Madhu   wanted Sharda to become a doctor and they would spend most evenings after dinner at home talking for hours in the imaginary future of Sharda as a doctor and Raju would not have to sell cucumber any more . They would dream of comfortable old age, would imagine themselves in a bungalow, a car servants and rich guests visiting them.  Madhu’s neighbor was a Muslim, Rahman,who was a cart puller in the rice mandi. He was married to Fatima, who use to make papad and pickles at home and sell them through local shops. They had a son Abdul. Abdul was a handsome boy too. Both Raju’ s and Rahman’ s family  sunk very well. They knew that Raju was from a lower caste and Sharda was a Brahmin and theirs was a love marriage. The friendship between Raju and Rahman as well as Madhu and  Rahman s  wife Fathima was so intimate that Madhu and Fathima would exchange  whatever they cooked for dinner. Madhu remained a vegetarian but Raju and Sharda ate non-vegetarian food. In the Evening Madhu and  Fathima sit on the their door steps and talk for hours until Raju or Rahman return. Sharda was an early riser and so was Abdul.  Sharda and Abdul would both step out and stay at their doors, talk and often play cricket in front of the door. Their wickets were three bricks, their ball was stitched from old cloth and their bat was  a plank they picked up on the road. In less than a year, Rahman's wife met with an accident and had an instant death. This tragedy in Rahman's family brought them closer to the Sharda’s family. Abdul was very sad and Madhu would console him. Abdul was a sober boy and a studious student; He too had a dream to become a doctor. He would always console his father with a promise of comfortable life when he settled down in life. Abdul and Sharda were good friends as kids but as Sharda grew up and Abdul grew into a young man,they slowly withdrew themselves. They did not meet often and stopped playing together. Madhu would always take Sharda along with her to school. Sharda studied in the same primary school as her mother. Sharda was a math teacher and that made sharda interested in Maths which helped her to score high marks in aggregate. Abdul was in High School and was always topping in the class. So was Sharda .She always stood first in the class. Sharda was a good debater and had tremendous leadership qualities. 

. Madhu taught maths for lower classes and also drawing as that was her passion. Both Madhu and Raju earning, they were financially far better than Rahman and Abdul.

Many a times Sharda would ask Rahman if he needed any help for the education of Abdul. Rahman would avoid help from Sharda and often lie to her that he has enough money to pay for the fees and books. One day Sharda and Madhu spotted Abdul in a second hand book shop where he would pick books of his class but drop them back after knowing the price. Madhu stepped behind him with cat steps and hiding behind him watched all the books he looked for. Both mother and daughter disappeared from the scene and came back after Abdul left. Madhu bought all the books for Abdul and dropped them at his house before he could return. Abdul though felt embarrassed at this kindness, accepted the books with folded hands. Rahman went to thank Madhu. Raju just entered when he saw Rahman and Abdul in tears,tears of gratitude. When Sharda was eight years, Abdul was twelve. As Sharda grew up into her teens, Madhu would cautiously watch her and constantly escort her when she went out of the house.. So was Abdul conscious of the limitations of talking and playing with Sharda. Time passed, both studied well. Sharda grew into a beautiful young woman a heartthrob that would stun even the elderly men and even women crossing her way. Abdul would sometimes have her glance when she steps out for a moment. Abdul was so fond of her that he would miss her if not seen her for a few days. Madhu was conscious of the feelings of both Sharda and Abdul, but she was cautioned by her colleagues in school. Her close friend, Radhika use to caution Madhu that Sharda is not only beautiful but an intelligent girl entering college and soon a rich Hindu boy would ask for her hand .she should not be seen with Abdul or ever seen talking to him. Madhu did not really welcome this caution, but she shared it with Raju. Raju agreed with her colleagues and so the distance between Sharda and Abdul increased. But to get a glimpse of Sharda,Abdul would stay out of home, walk up and down the lane for hours hoping for a glimpse of Sharda at least from the window. Sharda also realized the Abduls restless walk across the lane,and would peep out of the window around late evening, wave at him and disappear.

When Sharda passed her 9th exam, Abdul passed his 12th with a first class and distinction.. Abdul,s father wanted him to go for a job, but Madhu and Raju wanted him to become a Doctor. Rahman was so poor that he would not afford to pay the fee nor even buy medical books. Madhu suggested that Abdul should raise bank loan, but no Bank agreed to loan money to rickshaw pullers son.

Madhu took Abdul to the State Bank of India branch where Madhu had an account and met the manager, Anil Sharma. Anil Sharma offered Sharda a seat as he knew her as teacher of his own daughter. He directly asked her if she wanted any loan for her daughter Sharda? She replied” No Sir, she has not entered a college yet and she dreams to be a doctor.” Sharma said, ‘Madhu ji ,why not, she is intelligent and beautiful. Do not hesitate to take loan from us when she needs”. Madhu, pointed to Abdul and said, "Sir I have come for this boy who lives in the neighbor and we have lived like family members. He is an honest, hardworking and promising citizen. He has scored 95% and would easily walk through to a Government Medical College.” Sharma asked "Good, what is his name? He is Abdul and his father is a rickshaw puller and has no mother". Sharma:” all that is good but who will stand guarantee to him and does he have any things to pledge?” Madhu said "Sir, he has a one bedroom home like mine allotted to his father under Asha home and he may have some small payments left to be paid to have it in his name, Sharma" there are hassles and I would advise you to keep out of this as we cannot predict the turns it would take”. Madhu insisted, "Sir I am very keen that Abdul should study medicine and if he leaves it, it will go to another boy. Sharma said" that may not be another Abdul, so you should not indulge so much. Madhu finally said "Sir, what if I offer myself as guarantor?"

Sharma said "what will you do when your daughter needs loan after three years? Madhu ji please, you are going beyond which you may regret. How much do you trust his father a rickshaw puller and this Abdul? Madhu, says "Sir, I may regret more of he loses this seat in medicine. Sharma, Madhu ji, give me time to think and you too take your time to consult your colleagues and your husband. Madhu & Abdul return home and Madhu takes a promise from Abdul not to reveal and discuss their bank visit with any one. Abdul nods his head. Madhu discussed this with Raju who confessed his ignorance in all these matters and left it to Madhu’s wisdom. Madhu discusses her intention to get Abdul a loan with her friend Radhika working with her in school, who also had a son Narayan seeking admission in medicine. Radhika started shouting at Madhu “are you a insane woman falling into the trap of a Muslim family”. Radhika had in her mind a long term plan for her son. She instantly came out with her mind. "Look Madhu" she said "your daughter can also be a doctor and my son will also get into medicine. I also need to get a loan and if you guarantee for my loan, my son could be your Son-in-law and both your doctor daughter and my son could bring happiness to both our families".

That instant proposal stunned and confused her. Madhu silently return home in a dilemma. She could not talk to Raju about it as Raju was too simple to understand and take a decision. Raju’s only skill was in making spicy cucumber slices that sold like anything in front of the school. She was restless and awake till late nights. It was a Saturday and she waited till Monday to go the bank again. She met the manager again in the morning and Mr.Sharma did not welcome her with the same enthusiasm. She made her wait for one hour before he looked at her. He said "tell me Madhu ji" Madhu, with her eyes down said "Sir I have decided to sign guarantee for Abdul’s education loan”. Sharma "Do you realize the consequence of his defaulting?" "Yes Sir" said Madhu.” I will have to pay his loan or my house will be attached”. "Yes" said Sharma. "And still would you risk with your own daughter needing your help? And the expenses of her studies and her marriage? Sharma's tone was harsh. Sharma threw a bunch of papers to be filled up in front of Madhu and asked her to get them filled with all supporting documents after admission letter is issued for Abdul by the medical admission boards. After returning home, she walked into Rahman's home and told him "Rahman bhai, Abdul will be studying medicine and I have taken loan from the Bank. When he starts earning, he will pay back to the bank with interest. Tears flowed through Rahman’s eyes and he bowed down to touch her feet Madhu resisted with her hands firmly on his shoulders.

Abdul joined the Medical College, and wore the new shirt and trousers that Madhu bought for him as her gift. On the first day, Abdul came to Madhu’s home, touches her feet, takes her blessings and his eyes start searching for a glimpse of Sharda ,before leaving to the college.. Sharda was hiding behind the curtain and Abdul could only see her feet, her nails coloured and mehandi on feet. Abdul imagined her in a bridal dress but had no courage to call her or move the cloth curtain to see her. He walked out wishing Sharda, whom he started calling Amma.

Time passed, Abdul has been passing with very high marks that qualified him for full fee exemptions and a handsome scholarship from the government of India. This gave a great relief Abdul and to Madhu. Madhu approached the Bank to inform that Abdul would not avail further loan for rest of the his studies. Besides, Abdul would pay back the first installment of loan in two years from the scholarship he would receive.

Three years passed by, Sharda too passes twelveth with 90% marks and got admission in the same medical college that Abdul was studying in his fourth year. Though Abdul and Sharda were leaving for college the same time, they would avoid walking together on the road. They would walk on the opposite footpath of the road, as Abdul was conscious of the mind of the neighborhood and he did not want any remark on Sharda by the people of the locality. Even in the college ,Sharda, was one of the most attractive young woman. She would always prefer remain in the girls crowd avoiding any encounter with the boys. Abdul and Sharda would confront in the cafe, smile at each other and part to sit at different tables.

The college library was kept open on Sundays and on days close to the exams. The reading hall use to be packed with students. Often boys and girls were seen on benches outside the library under the large shady trees. It was not uncommon to see a boy and girl engage in combined study. Sharda wanted to sit with Abdul for some time on the bench, on the pretex of seeking clarification on some doubts in physiology. She was too shy to ask him to sit with her on the bench. Abdul too was very conscious of the fall back if they were spotted by passers on the main road just outside the college. For two years of the overlapping stay of both Shardha and Abdul at the medical college, the feelings of attraction, fondness of each other remained subdued, consciously so by both. Abdul always felt the burden of the obligation of Madhu. Sharda's mother. He very well realized that without sharda’s mother, he would not have entered the medical colleges. He would not imagine even to hear a word from anyone that would be against Sharda or her mother’s honour. This indebtedness kept all his feelings for Sharda buried with himself. For two years in the same college, the two who spend hours playing in childhood, did not dare to speak to each other. But Sharda would miss Abdul, if she did not cross her on the corridor or library or cafeteria at least once a day. It was the same with Abdul, but Abdul was matured and highly mellowed personality.

Abdul bought a bicycle when he was in third year from out of the scholarships money, and commuted to college on the bicycle. One day Sharda was a bit late to leave home and was rushing out and her mother at the door waving her hand. Abdul came out at the same time, and seeing Sharda rushing on road, asked Sharda, “Amma should I take Sharda on the pillion on of my bicycle?” Sharda’s mother smiled and said, Abdul, "you should avoid such gesture", this was a loud and clear message to Abdul. The same evening while returning home, Sharda saw Abdul on his bicycle. She waved at Abdul and asked "Abdul, can I be on the pillion for some distance? Abdul said with a sad face and tears in his eyes busting out, Sharda, "Perhaps not". He then said "you know why"?

Abdul completes his medical course with distinction. He received his last installment of scholarship. He decides to go to sweet shop before returning home, and buy some sweets. While returning home, he thought of gifting some things to Madhu, Raju and his father. He got into a cloth store, picked up two shirts for his father and Raju and sky blue cotton sari for Madhu. He was in an afix, if he should buy something for Sharda. He knew that Sharda would be excited with anything from him but he was unsure of her mother’s reaction. After a prolonged thinking, he decided to buy Parker pen set for her. Abdul reached home a bit late it was 7 p.m and it was time for the evening prayers. Abdul hurried to finish his prayer, and waited for his father Rahman to return home. Rahman comes a little late and Abdul hugs his father and shows him the course completion certificate with tears. Rahman with controlled emotions said " your mother is not with us to see this day". Yes baba, but Sharda Amma will be as happy as my mother would have been. Rahman " what is it in the bag?" he open the bag and showed the gifts and asked his father to choose the shirt he liked. Rahman smile and said, I will wear what is left after Raju picks his choices. Abdul asks his father "Baba, will you accompany me to Sharda and Amma to give them the gifts? He readily agreed and they both went out to knock the next door. The door opened, and it was Sharda who was wiping her long hair after the bath with a thin Sari of her mother. She blushed, smiled and ran inside to her room giving a shout "Amma look, there is someone at the door". Madhu comes, obviously from the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her right hand. She asked both father and son to come in and sit down. Abdul proceeds to Madhu before seating himself, bows to touch her feet and shows her the result sheet and hesitantly gives the gift he brought, "Amma, please accept these little things, token of my love and respect for you, Raju Uncle and Sharda.” She takes the bag gracefully with a smile and puts it on the chair. She goes into the kitchen to bring the fresh besan ladoo she made. Raju enters just then and gives a hug to Rahman. Sharda was again behind the curtain and her Pretty feet with bright red coloured nails were visible. She knew that Abdul would easily spot them and Abdul had his eyes fixed on that motion less feet behind the curtain.Raju ask Rahman "what are your plans now?"Rahman said "Abdul wants to study further, which he only can explain." Raju said " I am as ignorant as you are Rahman", but Sharda will understand and of course, Madhu will.Abdul said " Amma, I have written the all India entrance for a post-graduation in Nephrology and I have secured a seat in All India Institute of Medical Science in Delhi with a scholarship. I need your blessings. “He bows and touches her feet again and Madhu lifts him catching his arms firmly.

The following week, Abdul leaves for Delhi and before leaving he sees Madhu to take her blessings. Sharda could no longer hide behind the curtain and she comes face to face with Abdul. Abdul extends his hand hesitantly to shakehand and said” take care Sharda, I will see you after two years, Insha Allah”. First time Sharda said ‘Insha Allah” and hastened to explain to her mother, Amma it means “If only God is willing”.

Rahman stayed back alone for about a month. Abdul choose to stay in a small rented accommodation instead of the hostel, he wanted to bring his father along to stay at Delhi. Rahman joined his son and before leaving, hands over house keys to Madhu to keep them safe. Sharda used to open the house and use Abduls table for her studies. Abdul had left all his books for Sharda. Time flies, two years passed, Sharda also completes her MBBS with distinction.

Madhu and Raju thought of getting her married, to her colleague Radhika’s son who also passed out along with Sharda. Radhika reminded Madhu of her proposal which she had made five years ago,to raise a loan for her son and would get them married. Bur Madhu, now my son has proposals from very rich and well to do families. Madhu felt belittled at that response. When she came home she saw Sharda trying to convice her father that, she would like to specialize in Pediatrics at the All India Institute at Delhi,and would write all India exams. Madhu and Raju yields to her adamancies. Incidentally she gets admission at the same Institute at Delhi, but Abdul had completed his Masters and had secured a scholarship to specialize further in Edinburgh. He took his father along to Edinburgh. Rahman and Abdul moved into a studio to live in an downtown of Edinburgh. Rahman was wondering about the change of events in life. When his son is away he would lie down to get the flash back of his life at his old house, his life pulling rickshaw and eating idli on roadside for lunch and so on.

Sharda passes her Masters, but she was keen to take American board exams and to go to US for further internship in pediatrics. She works hard and clears all the American board exams. She gets an offer at children's hospital at San Francisco, prestigious center of child care. She had to go alone, as Madhu was still in service and in any case, it was not easy to get a Visa for mother until Sharda settled down. It was the first ever flying experience of Sharda, and she was nervous. She flew by Cathay Pacific which flies from Bangalore with a change over at Hong Kong. From Bangalore to Hong Kong she got a middle seat of the four seat central row. The other three were occupied by Tamil speaking elite couple who from their talk seemed rich professionals settled in US. They were with two kids, one of whom was in the lap. They hardly looked at Sharda though she was longing to draw their attention and talk to the lady. She thought she would pick up a conversation but in vain. The transit in Hong Kong was 4 hours where she had to change the flight and get into the flight to San Francisco. She got the window seat of two seat row and the person next to her was another lady in her forties with a scarf on her head. She wished Sharda with smile and Sharda felt so much relieved with one intimate smile of the lady. Once they settled it was a nearing dawn with rays of rising sun piercing through the window. Sharda wanted to initiate some conversation, but the lady next to her said "Give me two minutes I will finish my morning prayer". Sitting on the seat she does all her postures of a Namaz, which Sharda was familiar with as she had always observed Abdul and Rahman doing it next door at home. She waited for her to finish her prayers and lost no time to introduce herself. Mam "I am Sharda, I am from Mysore" “oh, so nice I am from Mysore too, my name is Salma" said the lady. "Oh, we can talk in Kannada then" said Sharda. ���Yes”, said Salma.” Tell me more Sharda”, said Salma. “Can I call you Didi”, Sharda asked. "In fact, I wanted to tell you, don't call me mam", said Salma. “Didi, I am a doctor, and I am going to San Francisco on my first assignment after passing my American exams”. "How, nice congrats Sharda, you are a blessed child to your parents" said Salma. I work in a software company and husband is also a software engineer. We have two daughters we live in San Jose. My parents live in Mysore and visit us every year" said Salma. “Didi, my mother is a teacher, teaches Maths and my father is a street vendor. He is popular as Raju, masala cucumber man".Salma was stunned at the honest and simplicity of Sharda, her beauty and accomplishments. Salma was silent for some time, till the sign to fasten seat belt went off. Salma, asked her "what are your plans Sharda?" “Didi” she said" I have five days to join, when they would allot me a hostel and till then I must find an affordable accommodation" Salma said " Sharda have you booked a hotel?" “No” said Sharda. " how much does it cost" she asked. On any count not less than $100 per day" said Salma. "Oh, I have $ 500, and I should be able to manage" said Sharda. Salma said " I suggest you come with me to San Jose, my husband is coming to pick me with children. You stay with us for five days, settle down and then I will drop you to your Hospital at San Francisco" said Salma. Sharda controlled her tears, but could not. Wiped her eyes and said “Didi, why are you so kind?” Salma said, " I am not doing a favour to you, on the contrary you are the one doing a favour to me, you know. You are helping me to earn the praise of Allah who likes humans who are kind to others and help others.” Sharda said “Didi, I am so fortunate, I will get an opportunity to know from you more about your faith" “sure “said Salma with a smile. They had the 12 hours of flight, with snacks and two meals served. Sharda had opted for non-vegetarian but was surprised that Salma had opted for vegetarian Indian meal. 12 hours passed and they arrived at San-Francesco. Salma's husband was there, and Salma told, “ Akheel, I have

brought a friend from Mysore Sharda, a doctor, who will stay for 4-5 days before she joins he work at Sanfrancisco. Akheel who is a very calm person said “Hello” and drew back to San Jose. Sharda was excited with the traffic, the freeways and the buildings and the cold weather. Salma showed on the way the huge building of the company she worked. They reached home in forty five minutes. The two girls who were seated in the rear seat of their Benz SUV were busy all the time with their smart phones and as soon as they got out of the car, went to their rooms upstairs. Sharda was shown the guest room at the ground floor. After settling down, Sharda hesitantly entered the kitchen and saw Salma making lunch. She asked “Didi, can I help you, anything that I can do. I will lay the table and she quickly spotted the plates and glasses and laid them on table. Before the lunch, she heard Azan from the clock, and Salma called the girls to come for namaz and then the Lunch. Akheel also came down, spread the prayer mat and stood to lead the namaz. Salma and two girls stood behind Akheel and started the prayer. Sharda sat in a corner chair and just watched them with curiously and a desire storming into her to know more about Islam. The next day was a Friday and Salma told sharda, that the family is going to Masjid and she could comfortably stay at home and also go round the back yard garden with a swimming pool. Sharda asked “ Didi are other communities allowed to come to Mosques?” Salma said “yes, if you like to come, listen to sermons and sit and watch, you are welcome”. Sharda, quickly changed and tied the scarf imitating Mariam and her girls and decided to accompany them. She was given a chair to sit inside behind the congregation and she heard the Egyptian, Imam speaking that day on the five tenets of Islam, prophets teachings on obligations of Muslims to humanity and the punishment for violence and killing of innocents. Sharda was just stunned at the different world of Islamic culture, she wanted to know more and more from Salma about Islam. Salma said “it is simple” Islam says that there is one God who cannot be associated with any other being and he created the universe and has empowered humans to penetrate and discover universe. He sent messengers to Human kind and Mohammed was the last messenger.” The second command is thanking Allah through prayers, the third is to fast in his name in the month of Ramadan. Fasting has medical benefits and at the same time brings equality on every one including the rich and poor. The rich feel the pain of hunger. The fourth is Zakath, a prescribed parting of 2½% of accumulated wealth, in cash or gold with poor, each year and the last one is only optional, which is Haj, A prayer at Mecca around a stone laid by prophet Abraham. This is only for those who can afford. Sharda said,” amazing Didi but people often spread that Islam propagates for force conversion, Is it true?". Salma said,” absolutely not, Islam advocates respecting other faiths and accepting Islam is optional. The historical political expansions of kings, the acts o of some aggressive Muslim kings has damaged the image of this religion. Sharda “why do the world associated terrorism with Islam?” Salma said, ” did you hear of the word terrorism fifty years ago? No. this is the result of geopolitical expansion of the powerful countries for mineral and oil from poorer countries. They used every opportunity to invade other countries, cornered the natives, nurtured terrorist organizations like Tailban, Hamas, the Islamic state etc. Violence against humanity is the least that Islam per se supports, but political developments all over the world in the name of supporting and bringing democracies shattered the peace and harmony in western Asia, parts of middle east and in Afghanistan” with pause Salma said , “but Sharda, these are complex things and I am not a historian or so much informed. You enjoy your stay here till Monday, and we shall take you to San-Francisco on Monday”. This unexpected help and love sharda received from this

family in a new country left a deep and lasting impression on her and her outlook. Sharda called her mother soon after reaching and briefly talked her about her experience of making a stranger lady her Didi. On the last evening of her stay she sat till midnight to write a mail to her mother. Madhu felt so much relieved reading her mail.

Sharda was dropped to her hospital of work and after completing her formalities was shown her hostel. Salma stayed until she fully settled in her hostel and left, assuring of any assistance, when she needs. In the evening, she calls her mother again and speaks for a long time and narrated all about her four days with a stranger Muslim family. Madhu said, “Sharda, that is what humanity is all about and the basic tenets of Vedic Hinduism are all about, before the caste system corrupted the tolerant Hinduism. Power hungry politicians found division and polarization and religious hate as the easiest tool to achieve their goals and we have been the victims of this. Love, humanism and tolerance is basic to all faiths. Take care and keep calling me whenever you are free” said Madhu.

Madhu retired the next month and she was feeling lonely. Abdul and his father had also locked the Home. She would wait for sharda’s phone every evening. Sometimes her colleagues would visit her and often remind her that sharda should not be left alone in foreign country and called back and got married. Number of proposals were dropped into her ears, some of businessmen and some of government servants, but no one was a doctor. " Sharda was not very comfortable with the hostel food and wanted to be a paying guest. There were a number of Indian families in an around the hospital letting out rooms to doctors as paying guest. She moved to a home of an elite Andhra family highly sophisticated and apparently stylish and rich. They had a son Rohan studying in University. The agreement of Tenancy included self-breakfast and dinner served by landlord.

On the very first day, when she returned home, she had to wait till the family finished dinner and she was called in to eat on table. She was shocked, but did not realize that the caste system did not fade however much some looked advanced and sophisticated and live in advanced countries. Rohan was born and educated in US. He asked her mother "Mom, why don't we ask Sharda to join the table for dinner"? Mother said, " Rohan, we have certain practices and rituals which she may not be familiar. "Like what" Roshan asked, Like the slokas we say she may not know. "Why, she may learn "said Roshan .Mother remains silent but continued to serve her dinner separately. Roshan one day revolted and said “I am going to eat with Sharda she is like my sister and I want to break your caste divisions. If we don't change in the 21st century then these divisions of humanity will continue for centuries. Mom, the youth have to break all barriers and the time is now" he said and walked out. He again came back and told his parents, that divisions in society on the basis of religion, caste and strata is very convenient to those who seek seats of power, as they would become irrelevant if there is no hatred and division in society. His father, agreed and nodded his head and said “you are right and you should live the life the way you like". Sharda could hear all the conversation staying in her room and for the first time she realized that she was a Dalit and she cannot sink with an upper caste Hindu family. Sharda when she called her mother in the evening she said "Amma, I am learning a lot of things in life. I am seeing contrasts between people and beliefs . I am becoming more and more strong and matured in my understanding the world". Madhu listened silently and said, "I have faith in you and your decisions my Chanda. You know, I married your father in spite of all opposition from the family because I was a Brahmin and he was tribal Dalit. My family disowned me for rest of my life.But I stood with my decision".

Sharda's mother develops some pain in the back and her husband takes her to the hospital. Incidentally Abdul called up to enquire about her and hearing about her hospitalization, Abdul called up the doctor of the hospital and gets all the details. He asks for this scans by mail and he discusses that with his seniors. He realized that the disease was silently progressing to a stage of total renal failure. He called up Sharda to US and explained to her the seriousness. They discuss between themselves and they both decided to return as they knew that Madhu may not live long. Sharda took an emergency leave and Abdul too, both left to Mysore both with Cathay Pacific. They had a transit at Hong Kong, to board the flight to Bangalore. Abdul's father spotted Sharda in the waiting lounge and rushed to her and hugged her. She touched his feet and Rahman blessed her with his right hand on her head. Abdul, came rushing to Sharda, but he could not even shake hands in front of his father. They just stared at each other with mixed feelings and after a few minutes unstoppable tears rolled down their cheeks. Rahman just disappears from the scene and Sharda grabs Abdul's hand and cries like a child. They both reached Mysore and then rushed to hospital together and Rahman.

Madhu was drowsy with sleeping drugs. Rahman asked his son " Abdul please ask if the kidney can be transplanted". Abdul " yes, but we must find a compatible donor who have a healthy organ. Rahman immediately said " Abdul check for my compatibility, do not loose time". It was amazing that the blood groups were compatible, both with O+ blood group and Rahman said I will donate my one kidney. Sharda was silent, but Abdul consulted the Hospital, that he could also be in the operation.

Next day was the surgery fixed. Rahman was prepared for removal of kidney and Madhu was to be taken to operation theatre. Suddenly the blood pressure of Madhu was unstable and they postponed the surgery. Madhu wanted to see both Sharda and Abdul on the both sides of the bed. They both stood on two sides of the cot. Rahman silently stood on the other side near her feet. Ward Nurse was silently watching. Madhu holds Sharda's right hand and Abdul's right hand. She slowly pulls together and drops Sharda’s hand into Abduls. Sharda shouted " Amma, what are you doing". “My child you are both made for each other". “But Amma I have to get your permission for" "for what" wispered Madhu.”That I accept the faith of Abdul, about which I learnt a lot about it in my travel. Madhu, smiles and nods her head holds their hands together and closes her eyes. It was catastrophic tragedy to both families. The last rites were performed by Abdul for Madhu as he always called her Amma. Sharda stayed in her home alone and visited Abduls house for food. They wanted to stay in India till some rituals a per Hindu traditions were completed. In the meantime, the nurse who was a witness to the death of Madhu, leaked the information in the neighborhood that Abdul and Sharda are marrying as Madhu is not alive to stop it. This news gave enough fodder to the vigilante groups actively propagating interfaith marriages .They mobilized enough crowd to attack Rahman and Abdul on the morning of 12th day of Madhus death. But were very disappointed to see both houses locked, as they all had left by the early morning flight after the 11th day ceremony. This time Sharda decided to go to UK with Abdul and get married there. She gets solemnized in London mosque, and travel to San francisco for honeymoon. They get invited to San Jose by Salma for a stay. Sharda, hugs Salma and and says, Didi,I have come with my Husband Abdul who is also a doctor. I have accepted him along with his faith ,with conscious blessings of my mother before she closed her eyes.

Then on they lived happily and Sharda retained her name on advise of Abdul, who believed that faith is not in name and what you wear, but in what you believe in and practice as good human beings.

tareenjak@yahoo.co.in

[an-ambivalent]

Bleeding Heart [Yandere! Prince! Namjoon]

Word Count: 1.8K 

Warnings: It obviously goes to say that since this is a yandere work, it deals with uncomfortable things that may be uncomfortable or triggering to read. This work is rather angsty? I’d like to say lol, and it contains mentions of violence so read at your own risk.  I do not condone this behaviour, nor do I believe any of the mentioned members would display this type of behaviour in real life.

With certain genius-ness that is marveled at because it exceeds the human expectation comes a certain extent of ostracisation. The man lost himself behind his mask and amongst the very people who cared so little. Then, once darkness shrouded him for long enough and he stopped seeking, he found a pair of hands in the utmost unexpected circumstances that held the answers to all that he searched for. 

To what many may not believe, the reality was that life of a royale could be rather complex. There were those who developed minimum brain cells and stayed blissful in their ignorance -- the one’s with an IQ lower than the room’s temperature; they were the one’s who only selfishly cared about their own needs. To be this type of person was the easiest because these individuals never cared about others. Then, there were people like him, the extraordinary, the exceptional buds who only bloomed once in a blue moon if given the right circumstances. Prince Namjoon was an innocent child of wonder who was forcefully bathed in cold blood of others -- the less unfortunate. If nurtured with an environment of love and taught to be selfless, he could have been the sovereignty who would have reigned with the power to teach love. But that was not the case. Instead, Namjoon had a rigid upbringing and it was one he was never able to break out of. No matter how intelligent he was, he was never smart enough to understand what terms of kindness and selflessness meant, and he was never smart enough to be able to escape the clutches of his own insanity that drove him to ruin everything. 

 “Strive for more power, you will be stronger, you will be more dignified.” 

The only thing he had felt when he had raided the smaller lands, whom the victory was guaranteed against, and the count of blood of the innocent on his hands simply increased, was a hollowness in his chest. 

“Get rid off those who undermine you. Take their life away and added their earnings to yours. You will be on top of the world.” 

Rather than feeling a sense of gaining like he was told he would, he lost the last glimmer of lustre in his irises that was only flicker left of his innocence. The sheer coldness in his eyes, the lack of humanity, and emptiness of all emotions suddenly seemed to become the more defining traits than his unique monolids; for to be undermined was said to be anyone who gave him the slightest wrong remark, action, or emotion. 

He wondered why he had not killed her in their first meeting and what had drawn him to cling onto her. 

With her delicate hands, skin on them was evident of certain roughness. Her skin was darkened due to the soil coating it. With the utmost gentleness and tenderness of her hands, she tended to the flowers in his personal garden. In Namjoon’s eyes, given the ideals he was raised with, it was pointless to cater to flowers with as much caution as she did. As he watched her, the look of determination to do her best with looking after the plants, and the evident love in her gaze, baffled him. 

It was like a pull from a high power that prompted him to walk towards her -- the first sole meeting that was going to take place to give him a taste of what could have been, before everything he comes to care for is taken away. 

Words left him before he even knew he had spoken. 

“Why do you bother trying to cater to something that is weaker than you? It seems pointless.” His cold voice rung out, causing her to halt in the midst of her movements. [Name] stayed stilled for a few moments processing that someone had called out to her. Usually, while her duties were scheduled in the garden, she was never really accompanied by someone; she was always in her own company surrounded by the fruits and flowers of her hard work. This unexpected greeting had made her freeze, and Namjoon, who would generally have a person’s head off if they took so long to respond to him, was oddly patient. 

[Name] turned towards his direction, and as she looked up at him, she blinked a few times,  before she felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Because of her lower status, [Name] did not interact with royals much if any, so she did not know them particularly by their face or even their name. But with the way Namjoon was dressed, it was evident he was someone of high status. So, automatically, she bowed to him in respect in response to his greeting. 

“Please pardon me, I did not hear what you asked of me.” At this, Namjoon’s eyebrow twitched and now, he was beginning to feel annoyed. 

“I don’t like to repeat myself, listen attentively next time when spoken to,” he began harshly. The lack of respect he held for people below him in status was evident in his condescending tone, which had also caused [Name] to wince inwardly. “I asked why do you bother trying to cater to something that is weaker than you? It seems pointless,” he stated stoically. 

[Name] raised an eyebrow as she stood up to her full height Then, without an ounce of fear or hesitation, she looked into Namjoon’s emotionless eyes with her own challenging stare. 

“Do you wish for me to answer truthfully or give you an answer that conforms to your ideals and beliefs?” 

For a minute moment, the corner of Namjoon’s lips seemed to have twitched upwards. But it was so sudden that it might as well have been a figment of her imagination. 

“Humour me with your honesty,” he responded, and [Name]’s eyes widened slightly, before she earnestly nodded. 

“There’s no particular reason for why I care so much. I just do because like you and I, they’re alive. The value of one life form of life over another is just a human concept. Without our possessions, our status controlled by those who believe they have power, we are nothing, just like everything else. All living beings live and die universally, and all of us, sin and carry regrets. If we’re so similar, it’s only fair we do our best to tend to everything around us,” she explained easily, and smiled at Namjoon. In response to her reply, he suddenly found himself feeling flustered. 

In a poor attempt to call her out for her foolish ideologies, he scoffed at her. 

“That is an incredibly foolish perspective. It is a natural cycle of survival of the fittest. The stronger consume and end the weak,” he stated simply, and [Name] glanced away from him, before she sighed. It made Namjoon believe that she thought he was a hopeless case, and he really wondered why he had not killed her yet. 

“You’re right in saying that and if that’s what you want to hear, then it’s only more important I look after plants here, isn’t it? They don’t exist to just look pretty, each can be used effectively for your gain if you wish to. Many here are cultivated into poisons that people of our kingdom use to kill each other, and to kill someone else from another kingdom. But then, where do we draw the line? Where do we realise that we have more than enough and let ourselves and others be at peace instead of alwaying causing more wars and more bloodshed,” [Name] vented, and there was great sorrow vivid in her irides. She wore her emotions and bleeding heart on her sleeve; it was evident from the way she spoke that she had been greatly affected by the ongoing war. 

Somewhere deep within him, the repressed boy buried within him, who used to, and wanted to wear his own bleeding heart on his sleeve, had started to breakthrough. Namjoon felt an odd clenching in his chest, and her words, as well as the expression on her face, hurt him immensely. It made him wonder: how could she hurt him without physically hurting him?

He was interrupted out of his thoughts and returned his attention to [Name] when she let out a dry laugh, with tears at the corner of her eyes. As he observed her silently from beside her, he suddenly wished he had never started this conversation, so he would not be the reason behind her tears. 

“I also think that life is just more fun when you rebel and do the opposite of what you’re told to do,” she said winking at him through her tear-stained eyes; such a merry expression, while tears — an expression of sadness — streamed down her face, caused Namjoon’s eyes to widen. It was on that day when Namjoon came to admire [Name] for the strength she held without weapons, for the wisdom she spoke of her own being, and for the kindness she showed in such a cruel world. 

And he should have known better than to indulge into her as a way to search for his own innocence in an attempt to wash off the blood on his hands; he should have known better than to become involved with an innocent stranger and to allow her to become his sole weakness. 

Despite the horror etched in his eyes as he looked at his own hands that were gripping the hilt of the sword, both covered in her crimson blood, he did not allow his emotions to show. He did not deserve to have the privilege to express his emotions, not after all he had done. And it was almost comical because although he had killed countless, it was [Name]’s blood, his beloved’s sole blood on his hands that took away the last of his humanity. 

He had promised himself that he would always protect her. By killing her himself, and giving her a quick and painless death by his own hands, before an enemy could hurt her, he reassured himself that it was the best way to protect her. 

He had done it for her. She was his responsibility, his weakness, so he had to be the one to decide what was the best outcome for her. 

Blood spilled from her mouth as she fell forwards into Namjoon’s arms, and whatever gushed out of her wounds, pooled and smeared against his clothes. 

“Y-You had no r-right to decide my fate f-for me,” she murmured, as the last of her life left her eyes, and they begin to dull in colour. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon apologised pathetically, as he brought her closer. He buried his hand into her hair, and held her dying bleeding heart as it beat for the last time. 

[quasieli]

But I Can’t Help...

[AO3 Link]

The ease with which the moment happened all but stunned Fjord into silence. Had he really just heard him correctly? Was his mind playing tricks on him? If his lack of a response had bothered the other man, he was very good at not letting it show.

Strangely, that was one thing Fjord... admired about him, it was quite hard to ruffle Caduceus’s feathers. He knew the other man would laugh if he ever said so, probably make some remark about not having feathers to ruffle with an honest naivety that was often mistaken for ignorance. Fjord took it more as just a part of the strange firbolg’s charm. Caduceus was plenty smart, but perhaps not in a way many could appreciate. Fjord definitely appreciated it.

It may have taken some time, but Fjord was realizing that there was much about Caduceus that seemed so contradictory to how he presented himself to the world. For months he had just seen the man as the gentle healer who was perhaps a bit eccentric with his dealings with death, but now that he had the great fortune to spend so much time with him, it was boggling to see how blind he had been.

Caduceus was by no means perfect, but he was the model of a man that Fjord never knew he needed to see. He had his faults about him; his anger turned him passive, resolving him to seethe in silence while still putting on a happy face. This was a complication of Caduceus’s upbringing that Fjord did not know how to resolve and it pained him for ages that he could not do more to help the man that had helped him so.

But it was in this state that Fjord found clarity. He saw what Caduceus had been seeing for months in the faces of their friends whenever he offered them a kind word or wise encouragement during a period of distress. He was amazed at how quickly Caduceus had worked in finding his answers for the group, it seemed almost second nature to him, and that’s because it was.

Emotion was not something Caduceus saw as a burden, an obstacle to overcome in finding strength. He always encouraged others to speak freely and not let emotions be a hindrance. Emotions were meant to be felt, we were allowed to be upset, frustrated and even sad. Why then did this not apply to him? That was what Fjord could not wrap his head around.

Listening to his wise musings for only a short time had all but changed Fjord entirely, greatly for the better. So how had a lifetime of dispensing the very wisdom that he needed fallen deaf to his own ears? This was something Fjord was more equipped to deal with. It was easier to lead through a pretty turn of phrase rather than by actually acting by your word.

///

As twilight approached and the coastal sky dimmed, a soft lull fell upon the chateau that the Mighty Nein had once again taken rest in. It was not a normal occurrence for the usually bustling chateau to fall silent, but the business’s main source of life was out on a (less than usual) reluctant night on the town with her daughter and her friends. Caduceus had opted to stay in, not feeling much up for galavanting with the group. At the decline of the offer, Fjord knew it was the perfect time for them to talk.

In a place like the chateau, it was not necessary for the group to double up on rooms, but Caduceus and Fjord often did, for obvious reasons. However, upon approaching his own shared room with two mugs of tea in hand, Fjord felt himself hesitate. He could just enter normally with the appearance of having no ulterior motive, but somehow he felt wrong in what he was about to do.

But Caduceus deserved to feel okay, that he knew for certain. The man he so deeply adored, the one he was now blessed to call his, he deserved to be heard too. He deserved to know that his feelings matter too. Fjord huffed a breathy laugh to himself as the thought dawned on him, amazed at the growth in his own emotional intelligence. It wasn’t even intelligence, really, but simple cognizance. It was so easy to just ignore all those signs that would eventually lead to talks Fjord wanted nothing more than to avoid. 

Six months ago, the same man would’ve shoved even the simplest discomfort down to put on a brave face and lead his friends. Now, here he was, bringing his boyfriend a cup of tea on a cozy night in, letting himself feel good and not ashamed of what he once would have considered weakness. It is not weak to be soft, he thought, it actually takes a great deal of strength. At least, it had for him, to get past a lifetime of neglect of the person he truly could be. This is not the man Fjord could have ever envisioned himself to become, and yet...

Holding the tray in one hand, Fjord rapped a knuckle against the wooden door to announce his arrival before entering. The room was dimly lit, a faint glowing fireplace illuminating the northern part of the room. In the southern half, the sweet firbolg man lay resting on the shared plush king bed, tickled by the edges of the fire light. Fjord could tell he was not asleep by the soft shifting of his features, it was most likely that he was deep in thought. Still, Fjord thought it rude to interrupt, crossing the room quietly and leaving the tray of tea on a side table.

Waiting for an opportune moment to talk, Fjord stepped over to the hearth, inside the warm fire crackled and popped. It was by no means cold in Nicodranas at the moment, or practically ever, but there was a certain comfort Fjord had found in having the fire lit. He leaned against the brick mantle, the fire getting almost too close for comfort. Still, he stared on, appreciating the beauty of it, strengthened with his newfound sense of the world.

“I’m not equipped to deal with burns tonight.”

Fjord turned at the sound of the voice, Caduceus was now sat up in the bed, eyes still closed and a gentle mischievous smile plastered across his face.

“How did you...” Fjord began, but then realized who he was talking to. Chuckling, he walked back over to the side of the bed. Caduceus did not stir at the sound of the approach, but even Fjord could see the slight blush that rose to his cheeks and happily twitching ears as he crept up. Gently, Fjord placed a hand on his partner’s cheek, turning his head to face his own. Fjord couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered through his stomach at the sight of that goofy, blissful smile, but he wasn’t going to hide it either. Gently scratching the side of Caduceus’s jaw, Fjord leaned in and placed a tender kiss on the other man’s forehead, letting it linger for a moment or two.

Leaning up ever slightly, Fjord began, “If you will indulge me, may we move to the sofa?”

Caduceus nodded simply, his large purple eyes fluttering open as he stood. Fjord took his hand and led the pair over to the soft, red velvet upholstered couch at the center of the room, the fire illuminating and warming it from a safer distance. A moment of silence hung in the room as the pair took a seat, Fjord trying desperately to not let his palpable nervousness show. That was near impossible when faced with the likes of Caduceus.

“Is everything alright?”

Fjord looked up at that gentle face, the eyes slightly dotted with worry. He didn’t want him to worry. Still holding his love’s hand, Fjord began to nervously rub circles into the other’s palm, breathing in time with the languid movement.

“Nothing is wrong, per se,” a beat, “I just wanted to talk.”

“Of course,” Caduceus's features melted into a goofy smile that made Fjord’s heart flutter, aching with the desire to kiss him again. But he mustn’t, he had come here for a reason, he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted, or to back down.

“You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

Caduceus’s eyes widened with surprise. After a moment, his brow knitted, but the smirk across his face held back any worry that Fjord’s statement had been ill-taken. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Caduceus finally asked as he stifled back a chuckle.

“In a way... yes,” Fjord began again, trying to sound more resolute, “but I do not mean it simply in vain. Yes, you have beautiful eyes, and a gentle face and a warm smile that brightens even the darkest day...” Fjord paused, once again getting lost in his desire, “but that’s not the point. The point is that you also have a beautiful, kind soul, a soul that he seen and done so much, constantly giving and giving to others. It’s one of the things that I admire so greatly about you, but you see, there’s one thing that confounds me. Everyone can see just how lovely and compassionate you are... why can’t you see that?”

The look of confusion that overtook Caduceus’s face was more hardset than his previous, here he was genuinely lost about what the other man was getting at. He lowered his head towards his chest, a curtain of long, pink hair falling over his face. His eyes darted for a moment, attempting to piece through whatever meaning he could find.

A sharply clawed crooked finger found its way under Caduceus’s chin, lifting his head to meet Fjord’s gaze. Fjord’s free hand tucked the fallen hair behind one of Caduceus’s ears, a single lock left sweetly hanging over his eyes. “Do not look so alarmed, I only bring this up because... because I care about you, because you are so kind and giving and you deserve tenfold, and so much more, given back to you, but... I sense that you don’t think that. I see you when you think no one is looking, I noticed when the mention of your family used to make you go quiet. I may not be very perceptive, but I notice when you are hurting.”

Caduceus took the hand underneath his head, gently unfurling the fingers to place a kiss on Fjord’s open palm before placing the hand against his cheek.

“I want to help, it pains me to see you hurt. You’ve done so much for me, let me do this for you,” Fjord tried not to let the small sob forming in his throat become audible, caring less about the gentle tears that began to well in his eyes.

Caduceus lay silent for a moment, still holding Fjord’s hand against his cheek, nuzzling into his warm skin. His eyes opened a crack and stared down at the couch they shared.

“I love you.”

The ease with which those words were said all but stunned Fjord into silence. Had he really just heard him correctly? Was his mind playing tricks on him? If his lack of a response had bothered Caduceus, he was very good at not letting it show. He simply continued nuzzling into the hand on his cheek, rubbing the back of the hand with his own.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Caduceus finally broke the silence after a minute, which felt so much longer to Fjord, “and don’t think I am saying this to cast your fears aside, I just needed to tell you. I love you and I’m grateful that you care so deeply about my well being, even if you don’t...”

“I love you, too... Caduceus,” a pause, “Truly, I do. Those are not hollow, parroted words.”

Caduceus’s eyes fell closed once more. “I believe you,” he spoke softly, “you are a man who does not take words lightly.”

“Then you know that I’m serious when I say I want to help you,” Fjord placed his free hand upon Caduceus’s other cheek, his purple eyes fluttering open once more and meeting Fjord’s loving gaze, “You have helped me grow so much, more than you could ever know, in these last few months, but I am not simply repaying a debt. I’m doing this... I’m doing this because I do love you, Caduceus Clay. Let me help nurture your garden as you have nurtured mine.”

Caduceus cocked an eyebrow at Fjord’s choice of phrase, snickering but nodding all the same. Ecstatic, Fjord moved in and kissed his lover as if it were his first time, passionate and fueled by the fireworks exploding in his mind and heart. Dragging away from his lips, Fjord leaned into Caduceus’s chest, warmed by the sound of his excitedly flittering heartbeats. The pair laid still and quiet, Caduceus hugging Fjord close, his fingers gently scratching Fjord’s scalp. They watched as the fire crackled, its warmth only adding to the serenity they were sharing. 

Caduceus was the first to break the silence after some time, beginning to hum as his fingers lazily played with Fjord’s hair. It wasn’t long before the humming turned into actual song, Fjord reveling in the rumbling of Caduceus’s chest as his deep baritone filled the room, despite the gentleness of his voice. 

“... but I can’t help... falling in love with you.” 

[onslaughtsixdotcom]

Gold For XP: A History

Experience points are a method for the game master to reward desirable player behaviour. It is a tool by the game designer (and the game master) to direct players to do things that they might otherwise not do, and to inform the players what sort of things they are “supposed” to be doing in this particular game.

The game of Dungeons & Dragons (broadly defined as any official edition of the game, OSR hacks and Pathfinder spinoffs) is a game about armed medieval characters going into a dangerous place (broadly defined here as “the dungeon”), killing or avoiding whatever lives there (defined hereafter as “monsters”) and taking their stuff (defined as “treasure.”) They do this because gaining treasure makes them more powerful, allowing them to get into more dangerous dungeons and fight more dangerous monsters, in order to gain more treasure.

There is no goal that a player character could conceivably have that wouldn’t be helped out by having a shitload of money. I challenge any reader to come up with a plausible goal that would not be expedited or solved by finding 100,000 gold pieces.

As a result, Dungeons & Dragons originally awarded experience points for the recovery of treasure guarded by monsters.

In this article, I will go through the history of every edition of D&D’s experience points, as long as they involve the recovery of treasure. Somewhere around 2nd Edition (1989) they transitioned solely to rewarding XP for killing monsters; the recovery of treasure was only worth the literal worth of gold, and gave no XP.

This article will also contain commentary on each method, and discuss ways you can use this in a modern game, whether that be 5e, Old School Essentials, Pathfinder, or whatever game you like to run.

For the future of the article, we are assuming a gameplay loop of town > wilderness > dungeon > wilderness > town. The players stay in town and stock up on supplies, travel the wilderness to the entrance of the dungeon, delve as deep as they can while keeping their resources intact, bail out of the dungeon when their resources are depleted or almost depleted, travel back over the wilderness, and rest in town again until they are once again ready to depart for the dungeon. 

From OD&D (1974)’s first book, Men & Magic, page 16:

Experience  Points:  Experience  points  are  awarded  to  players  by  the  referee  with  appropriate  bonuses  or  penalties  for  prime  requisite  scores.  As  characters  meet monsters in mortal combat and defeat them, and when they obtain various forms of treasure (money, gems, jewelry, magical items, etc.), they gain “experience.” This adds to their experience point total, gradually moving them upwards through  the  levels.  Gains  in  experience  points  will  be  relative;  thus  an  8th-level  Magic-User operating on the 5th dungeon level would be awarded 5/8 experi-ence. Let us assume he gains 7,000 Gold Pieces by defeating a troll (which is a 7th-level monster, as it has over 6 hit dice). Had the monster been only a 5th-level one, experience would be awarded on a 5/8 basis as already stated, but as the monster guarding the treasure was a 7th-level one, experience would be awarded on a 7/8 basis thus; 7,000 GP + 700 for killing the troll = 7,700 divided by 8 = 962.5 × 7 = 6,037.5. Experience points are never awarded above a 1 for 1 basis,  so  even  if  a  character  defeats  a  higher-level  monster  he  will  not  receive  experience  points  above  the  total  of  treasure  combined  with  the  monster’s  kill  value. It is also recommended that no more experience points be awarded for any single adventure than will suffice to move the character upwards one level. Thus a “veteran” (1st level) gains what would ordinarily be 5,000 experience points; however, as this would move him upwards two levels, the referee should award only sufficient points to bring him to “warrior” (2nd level), say 3,999 if the character began with 0 experience points.

This is FUCKED. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the composite math equations you would need to make this work. Keep in mind the reference above to prime requisites; in OD&D, each class had a prime requisite, what we would probably call today their “main stat.” Fighters had Strength, Clerics Wisdom, and Magic Users Intelligence. I believe in OD&D, a character did not require a minimum score to qualify for a class* but if you had a low score, you would receive less XP. A Fighter with 15 or more Strength would get 10% extra XP. This is, of course, after all the bullshit where you calculate the monster hit dice against what level of the dungeon there is (?!) so you would then take the 6037.5 XP above and multiply it by 1.1 in order to get your final XP earned. This is so insane that I can’t imagine any sane person doing it. So going forward we’re going to consider OD&D’s method worthless. It is, however, the first time we care about what level the monster is, rather than just the raw amount of treasure, which I suppose is the root of giving XP for simply killing monsters...

*I cannot find a reference to it in the Men & Magic book, at least. Feel free to correct me if you find it!

Let’s move on to the 1977 Holmes Basic set, aka the “Blue Box”:

EXPERIENCE   POINTS   AND   EXPERIENCE   LEVELS: Accumulated   experience   is   measured   by   experience points. Experience points are awarded on the basis  of treasure  obtained  and  monsters killed  or subdued. Experience for treasure recovered is on the basis of 1  point for every gold piece. Convert jewelry, gems, etc.  into  gold  piece  value.  (For  more  information  regarding  treasure,  see  TREASURE  and  BASE  TREASURE VALUES.)  Treasure  is  usually  divided  equally  among members  of the  party  and  therefore  the experience  is also.  If, for some reason, one character gets more of the loot, such as a thief stealing gems from the saddle bags on the way home, then  he should get the additional experience points. Monsters  killed  or  overcome  by  magic  or wits are worth experience points to be divided among the entire party.

This is the first time that we announce up front that 1 gp is worth 1 XP, throwing away the “Experience points are never awarded above a 1 for 1 basis” declaration from OD&D. We’re still modifying it later, but the basis of 1gp = 1 XP is solidly established here, and I doubt that will change as we move through.

This is the first reference we have to monsters giving XP, but it’s not very much. There’s a table of monster XP by hit dice, but it tops out at about 6HD for 225 XP, plus an additional 175 XP for every “special ability” the monsters have. Meanwhile the main method of gaining XP is the acquisition of gold. It seems in this version we are explicitly about the acquisition of gold. I am under the impression that some early version of the game is concerned with the recovery of gold; as in, the literal process of getting it out of the dungeon and taking it home. Holmes Basic is vague about this in the rulebook because of its reference to the thief stealing from the saddle bags; so when is XP awarded? When they return to town, presumably after the adventure? 

Moving forward:

If  the  defeated  monster  is  lower  in  level  than  the character   who   overcomes   him,    less   experience   is gained. The experience points for the kill are multiplied by  a  fraction:  monster's  level/character's  level.  For example,  if  a  third  level  fighting  man  killed  the  first level  orc  he  generates   1/3  the  experience  points.  The Dungeon  Master  usually takes all  the experience  earned  by  the  party,  treasure  and  monsters  defeated,  and divides  it equally among all surviving  members of the expedition. 

The  Dungeon  Master  should  have  the  option  of lowering  the  number  of  experience  points  gained  under  special  circumstances.  If  one  character  sneaks  out of  the  dungeon  with  all  the  treasure  while  the  rest  of the  party  is  being  eaten,  he  should  gain  some  experience points but not necessarily all of them!

Remember that characters with high scores in  their prime requisite get a bonus of experience points. 

No more experience points should  be awarded for a single game than will  move  a character  up one experience "level." Thus if a first level fighting men earns 5000 experience points this would ordinarily move him up  two  levels  (see  table  below).  He  is therefore  only allowed the number of points that would take him  up to second  level  and  almost  up  to  third.   He  therefore receives  3,999  experience  points,  not  5,000,  because 4,000 points would move him  up two levels. 

So we are still modifying XP based on your level compared to the monster’s level (basically, their hit dice). This is so annoying, I can see why they dropped it. Plus, we’re also still messing about with artificially gating player levels behind how much XP they earn. Frankly, this is all within the purview of the DM anyway--they decide how much treasure to award, so if you know the fighter will level up twice at 4000, why not simply not put more than 4000gp in the dungeon?

I moved forward a little to this version’s printing of B1: Into the Unknown to see what it says about awarding XP. In an edition of the game lacking a DMG, this is the closest thing we have to one:

At the conclusion of an adventure (the party's emergence from the dungeon), the surviving characters divide the treasure (with equal shares generally awarded to each and magical or special items diced for by eligible characters) and experience is computed. Henchmen and hirelings usually get an equal share of any treasure, although their experience point award may vary at the Dungeon Master's discretion from half to the full amount awarded to player characters, depending upon their accomplishments.

This is where it’s explicitly the party’s emergence from the dungeon. Apparently this is not when they reach town, at least by my interpretation. So you gain XP as soon as you leave the dungeon but before the travel back through the wilderness? Or does Holmes Basic assume that the trip back to town from the dungeon will be uneventful? Perhaps later versions will shed some light on this.

This is also the first reference we have to giving hirelings a share of the experience. OD&D said that they should be divided equally amongst “the entire party,” which under some definitions would probably include hirelings, but calling them out explicitly here and giving them the option of having a lesser XP share is good.

Now from the AD&D Player’s Handbook, 1977, on page 106 (what the fuck!), here’s what Gary has to say about awarding XP:

Experience is the measure of  a character's ability in his or her chosen profession, the character's class. Each player character begins the campaign at 1st level with no experience points accumulated. Thereafter, as he or  she completes adventures and returns to an established base of operations, the Dungeon Master will award experience  points  to  the character for treasure gained and opponents captured or slain and for solving or overcoming problems through professional means. 

…

Gaining experience points through the acquisition of gold pieces and by slaying monsters might  be  questioned  by some individuals is non-representative of how an actual character would become more able in his or her class. Admittedly, this is so, if the existence of spell costing clerics, druids,  magic-users, and illusionists is (unrealistically) granted; likewise, dwarven superheroes, paladins, elven thieves, half-orc assassins, and the like might gain real experience from altogether different sorts of activities. This is a game, however, a fantasy game, and suspension of disbelief is required. If one can accept the existence of 12' tall giants, why not the rewarding  of  experience points for treasure gained? While praying and religious-oriented acts are more properly the activities for which a  cleric would  gain experience points,  this is not the  stuff  of  exciting swords & sorcery adventure. So too, fighters  need physical training and weapons practice, magic-users long hours of study in tomes of arcane  lore, and thieves the repetition of their manual skills and discernitory prowess; but none of this is suitable to gaming. It is, therefore, discarded and subsumed as taking place on a character's "off hours". 

As a  rule, one point  of  experience will be awarded for  one gold piece gained by a character, with copper pieces, silver pieces, electrum pieces, platinum pieces, gems, jewelry,  and like treasure being converted to a gold piece value. Magic items gained  and  retained  have  only  a low experience point value, for  they benefit the character through their use. Magic items gained and sold immediately are treated as gold pieces, the selling price bringing an award in experience on the stated one for  one basis. Experience points awarded  for treasure gained - monetary  or magical - are  modified downward if the  guardian  of  the treasure (whether a monster, device, or  obstacle, such as a secret door or maze) was generally weaker than the character who  overcame it. A  4th level character versus a single orc is an overmatch, and only about 10% of the treasure value gained could count towards experience points; but if nine or  ten orcs were involved, the experience points awarded would generally be on the one for one bosis. 

Monsters captured or slain always bring a  full experience point  award. Captured monsters ransomed or sold bring a gold piece: experience point ratio  award. Monsters slain  gain  a set point  award. Low hit point/dice monsters have a low experience point  amount. Monsters with  high  hit point/dice have large experience point awards.  Special abilities such as magic resistance, spell capability, gaze or breath weapons, regeneration, and the like also increase experience points amounts.

Finally, clerics' major aims are to use their spell abilities to aid during any given encounter, fighters aim to  engage in combat,  magic-users aim to cast spells, thieves aim to make gain by stealth, and monks aim to use their unusual talents to come to successful ends. If characters gain treasure by pursuit of their major aims, then they are generally entitled to a full share of earned experience points awarded by the DM. 

Oh, Gary. Jesus Christ. Alright, let’s roll up our sleeves and see what’s actually relevant here.

XP in 1e is explicitly only awarded for gaining treasure and killing monsters. Magic items are no longer awarding XP for their worth in gold, as in Holmes Basic. We are also still fucking around with caring about how difficult the monster who was guarding the treasure is to defeat--I don’t understand this. I don’t really understand why you would sit around and need to worry about awarding more gold than XP and creating a situation where you would have 2000 gp guarded by a couple of kobolds against a 5th level party. Y’know?

The final paragraph just confuses me. Yeah, no shit the characters will do the things that get them XP, so give them the full amount of XP…? Gary, you suck at writing.

Furthermore, at least here in the PHB, Gary does not seem all that concerned about when to award XP. I don’t have the stomach right now to dig through the DMG, so we’ll put it off for a moment. After all, it wasn’t released until 1979.

Save me, Tom Moldvay. Save me from the wretched insanity!

When the adventure  is over, the  DM gives experience points to the surviving  characters.  Experience  points  (abbreviated  XP,  as  ep stands for electrum  pieces)  are given  for  non-magical treasure and for  defeating   monsters.  For  every   1  gp  value   of  non-magical treasure  the  characters  recover,  the  DM should  give  1 XP to  the party  (this  will be divided  among  all the player characters). Experience  points  are  not  given  for  magic  items.  The  characters  will divide the treasure  among themselves, but the  DM handles  all the experience.  EXAMPLE: A treasure  of 750 sp, a rug worth  100 gp,3  gems  each  worth  100  gp, and  a potion  of  healing  would  be worth a total of 475 XP (75 +  100  +  300  +  0).Experience  points  are  also  given  for  monsters  killed  or  overcome by magic, fighting,  or wits. Use the Experience Points  for Monsters  table  (below)  to  determine  how  many  points  to  give  the party.

Simple, straightforward, to the point. If they recover 1gp, give them 1XP. 

ADJUSTMENTS TO XP: The  DM may treat an unusually "tough" situation  or  monster  as  one  category  better  (use  the  next  line down). Situations  might  also  allow  the  DM to  give  partial  experi-ence  if the characters learned  from  the encounter  without  actually defeating  the  monster. The  DM may also award  extra  XP to characters  who deserve  them  (fighting  a dangerous  monster  alone, or saving the  party  with a great  idea), and  less XP to characters who did  less  than  their  fair  share  ("do-nothing"  characters).  The  DM should  consider  the  character's  alignment  and  class  carefully,  and should remember that guarding the rear is an important role in any party.

Unlike 1e, here Moldvay proposes that the players should never receive a penalty for fighting a weak monster guarding a shitload of treasure, but only get additional rewards for doing exceptional things. Of course there’s a suggestion that the DM can fuck over a lazy player but that seems...very subjective and could lead to a lot of issues. How do you define a character who “did less than their fair share?” Is the thief staying back behind cover and taking potshots less important to the encounter as a front line fighter? Whatever.

DIVIDING  XP:  Treasure  is  divided  by  the  party,  but  the  DM handles  all the  XP  awards.  At the  end  of  an  adventure,  the  DM totals  the  XP  from  all  treasures  recovered  plus  all  monsters  defeated  and  then  divides the total  by the  number  of  surviving characters  (both player characters and  NPCs)  in the party. EXAMPLE: A  party  of  7  (5 player  characters  and  2  NPCs)  goes  on  an  adventure  but  only  6  come  back  alive.  They  killed  monsters  for  a total  of 800  XP and also collected 5800 gp in treasure, for a total  of 6600  XP. Each  character  receives  1100  XP at the  end  of the adventure.  (The  DM may  give  each  NPC  1/2 normal  experience  —550  XP  in  this  case  —  since  the  NPCs  were  "directed"  and  thus benefit  less from the adventure.)

Again, the same stuff here about equally dividing XP treasure. Interestingly the reference to the “thief stealing gems from the saddle bags” for extra XP is gone here, probably because that caused more problems than it solved. The thief stealing extra gold shouldn’t receive more XP; the gold is its own reward.

By 1981 B1 has been replaced with the iconic B2: Keep on the Borderlands. Here’s what Gary has to say in it about XP:

Exploration  of  the  CAVES  OF  CHAOS  will  take  more  than  one game  session.  When  the  players  want  to  stop  play,  they must  find  an  exit  and  (preferably)  return  to  the  KEEP.  You May  divide  treasure  and  award  experience  when  this occurs. Remember to make adjustments to the areas they visited -the  monsters  may  build  new  defenses,  occupy areas  that  were  cleaned  out,  and  so  forth.

As far as I can tell this is the first explicit reference that XP should be awarded in town, and it’s a good time to do so. Of course, it could have always been done at that point, but it wasn’t as explicit in the modern sense.

Time for 1983’s Mentzer Basic, which became BECMI. This version of the game is often derided for its more childlike or all ages tone, and it’s easy to see why. Here’s what Mentzer says about XP:

For  the  treasure  you  found,  you  get 200  XP  (one  experience  point  per  gold piece  value).  For  killing  the  monsters, you  get  30  more.  That  adds  up  to  230XP, but  it's not  your  total.  You  also  get a bonus  because   you  are  a  Fighter   and have  an  above  average  Strength  score.This  bonus  is  +  10%  of  your  XP.  Sinceyou   earned   230,   you   get   23   bonus points,  for   a  total   of  253  XP.  In   theExperience  box  at  the  bottom   of   the page,  write  "253."

Did  you  notice  that  you  get  a  lot  of experience  for  treasure,  and  not  much of  killing  monsters?  It's  better  to  avoid killing,  if  you  can,  by  tricking  monsters or  using  magic  to  calm  them  down.  You can sometimes avoid the  risks of  combat. But  you  will  have  to  fight  many  monsters  to  get  their  treasures

Yeah, it’s really simply written. However, this is the absolute simplest XP system yet: 1gp is 1 XP.

Okay, cool, but where is the carousing rules? I keep hearing about these and how they existed, but I have yet to see them and we’re in 1983!

It’s at this point that I recognize I’ve missed the other materials. There’s Gary’s Greyhawk and Arenson’s The First Fantasy Campaign, which detailed Blackmoor. Ugh, I’m not looking forward to digging through these just for this, and I don’t want to go through the 1e DMG today either.

Old School Essentials, based on the B/X text, is probably the simplest system, but it still doesn’t do what I want. I like the idea of the carousing rules, but they enforce a certain flavour that I don’t enjoy--most players want to be a heroic dude who wouldn’t spend their time and money partying in town, and that doesn’t really help with Gary’s problem of addressing where the experience comes from.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Twisted Fate the Card Master build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

Never lost a fair game, or played one.

Twisted Fate is one of the oldest champions in the game and despite never being extensively changed he’s always found his way in and out of the meta. A very simple kit makes him a great champion for skill expression among pros.

There isn’t much reason for this build other than “I thought it would be cool.” Twisted Fate has always been a champ that I wanted to learn and while doing some brainstorming I felt it would be fun to try to make him in 5e!

GOALS

It's all in the cards - Throwing cards aren’t the most practical choice of weapon, but they’re Tobias’ weapon of choice. By the way did you know that Twisted Fate’s real name is Tobias?

Shinin' gold - Twisted Fate’s iconic ability is to pick a card for either more damage, an AoE burst, or a stun. We’ll be taking all of them.

No fightin' destiny - It wouldn’t be Twisted Fate without the ability to teleport behind you. Nothing personnel, kid.

RACE

The people of the Serpentine River are human, and henceforth Twisted Fate’s a Variant Human with some card skills. You can increase two skills by 1: choose Dexterity and Intelligence for card reading and slight of hand. And for your skill you have to persuade people to sit at the table after all, so take Persuasion.

As for your Feat take the Observant feat to watch the cards: increase your Intelligence further and watch for any cheats at the table. And for your language there are no doubt a lot of sea creatures that speak Aquan in Bilgewater, so pick Primordial to speak to them and any other elementals.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Jack be nimble and Jack be quick, since you need mobility to survive in Bilgewater.

14; INTELLIGENCE - Poker is a game of smarts as well as luck, and while lady luck is smiling you also need your own skills.

13; CHARISMA - Not as high as I’d like but we need other skills more, and 13 is still more than enough to charm I’m sure.

12; WISDOM - Wisdom is tied to both Perception and Insight which you need to watch the cards.

10; CONSTITUTION - A little lower than I’d like (feel free to swap the 12 in WIS for this) but Twisted Fate’s hardly a tank.

8; STRENGTH - Again: Twisted Fate’s hardly a tank and it’s up to Malcolm to do the heavy lifting. (Oh god now I need to do a Graves build...)

BACKGROUND

Fun fact: Twisted Fate is a Gambler, which is a background in Acquisitions Incorporated. You get proficiency in Deception and Insight (not Slight of Hand, for some reason?!), one language (pick your poison), and one gaming set (which will of course be a Playing Card Set.)

Your feature is Never Tell Me the Odds, letting you scout out tables to swindle or more rough pirates who won’t take kindly to being scammed.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ARTIFICER 1

Starting off as an Artificer because I really like this class and we need both their saving throw proficiencies and their skill proficiencies for Slight of Hand and Perception at the table. You also get an Artisan’s Tool of your choice and I’d pick whatever since it really doesn’t matter.

As an Artificer you have Magical Tinkering which lets you do a bunch of fancy tricks to your cards. You touch a tiny non-magical object and can make it shine light, play a message, let out a smell or a sound, or change in visual appearance. Read over the ability to see everything you can do but the effect lasts indefinitely but you can only have a number of these active equal to your Intelligence modifier. You can touch an object you Tinkered with to end the property early but if you try to make a new one the oldest effect ends.

You also get access to Spellcasting as an Artificer. You get two cantrips from the Artificer list: Guidance will give you some luck with the cards and Acid Splash will let you throw out a red card for some AoE damage.

Artificer’s are a prepared spellcaster, meaning you can swap out your spells for others on the Artificer list at the end of a Long Rest. Regardless these spells will be suggestions for the most in-character spells to take: Detect Magic and Identify are both good to make sure no one’s cheating at the table, and Disguise Self is useful to hide in a crowd if needed.

LEVEL 2 - ARTIFICER 2

Second level Artificers can Infuse Items to create a variety of magic items. As I say whenever I make an Artificer build I’d suggest picking Artificer Infusions that help your party but with only two levels we won’t be getting many.

The Returning Weapon infusion is the main one we’re here for. It lets you turn a thrown weapon magical and will cause it to return to your hand immediately after throwing it. Playing cards aren’t a “weapon” but a Dagger is pretty close, and it’s the only Finesse Thrown weapon you can take.

An Enhanced Arcane Focus is better if you want to go straight for spells. You don’t have any spell attacks yet but...

Is Graves asking you to look over his gun? Well pass him a Repeating Shot weapon so he doesn’t have to waste as much time reloading.

Fun fact: as an Artificer you can recreate common magic items from Xanathar’s Guide. Feel free to craft yourself some Loaded Dice with the Charlatan’s Die.

You can only make two of your infusions, and since one will be more-or-less permanently locked into Returning Weapon I’d choose your other option wisely.

You also get another spell: the Sanctuary spell will force any enemies that attack you to make a Wisdom save or be forced to attack someone else, which can be good in case they get pissed off when you swindle them. The effect does go away as soon as you attack though.

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 1

Now that we’ve got our cards it’s time to stack the deck. Level 1 Fighters can choose a Fighting Style and the Thrown Weapon Fighting style from the Class Feature Variants UA is perfect for a card-slinger. 

IF UA ISN’T ALLOWED see if they count Archery for thrown weapons. If not I’d probably opt for Dueling so if you get into a melee fight you won’t be completely defenseless.

You also get a Refillable Potion with Second Wind, letting you regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level once per short or long rest.

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 2

Level 2 Fighters can use their Stacked Deck to Action Surge, letting them take one additional action on their turn once per short or long rest. The cool thing about Action Surge as a spellcaster is that you can use the extra action to cast a spell and then attack or do something else, but you can only cast one leveled spell per turn. Why am I telling you this when most of your spells are utility-based? No particular reason.

LEVEL 5 - FIGHTER 3

Level 3 Fighters can choose their Martial Archetype and Battle Masters are great at card tricks. I assume because you’re throwing a knife not a playing card. Regardless Battle Masters are Students of War, letting them gain proficiency in one Artisan’s Tool of their choice. Again pick whatever or see if your DM can let you take a Gaming Set instead.

But more notably you Combat Superiority die. You have four superiority dice, which are d8s and regain any expended dice when you finish a short or long rest. You can use your Superiority die to do a variety of Maneuvers:

Trip Attack will be your golden ace in the hole. When you hit a creature with a weapon attack you can expend one superiority die to attempt to knock the target down. You add the superiority die to the attack’s damage roll, and if the target is Large or smaller, it must make a Strength saving throw. (8 + your proficiency bonus + your Dexterity modifier btw.) On a failed save, you knock the target prone. Note that knocking a target prone will make it harder to hit them with ranged attacks but it will make it easier for melee characters to hit them, and also slow them down for a moment.

If you’re fine with your stunned target moving then Distracting Strike will give your allies an opening to attack with Advantage, and also let you add the Superiority die to the damage.

Disarming Strike isn’t something TF can do in the Fields of Justice but it’s very in-flavor to knock the weapon out of an enemy’s hand (with a Strength save) and do some more damage.

LEVEL 6 - FIGHTER 4

That uneven Charisma score is annoying me, and you can’t be a silver-tongued swindler without the Silver-Tongued Feat from the Feats for Skills UA. Your Charisma score increases by 1 and you get Expertise in the Deception skill since you already had proficiency in it to begin with.

IF UA ISN’T ALLOWED feel free to grab the Prodigy Feat instead for Expertise in Deception (or Slight of Hand) and some more skills. This won’t increase your Charisma however so you’ll have to find another way to even out your ability scores.

In addition when you take the Attack action you can replace one attack with an attempt to deceive a humanoid you can see within 30 feet of you as long as they can also see and hear you. Make a Deception check contested by the target’s Insight: if you succeed your movement doesn’t provoke opportunity attacks from the target and your attack rolls against it have advantage; both benefits last until the end of your next turn or until you use this ability on a different target. If your check fails, the target can’t be deceived by you in this way for 1 hour.

You do only have one attack currently but with Action Surge this will let you have Advantage on that attack and any attack on your next turn. And speaking of extra attacks...

LEVEL 7 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters can get value out of that silver tongue with an Extra Attack. This means that by replacing one attack with a Deception check you can get Advantage on three attacks over two turns, or up to five attacks if you Action Surge.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 8 - WIZARD 1

Now that we’ve got our deck it’s time to du-du-du-du-du for a date with Destiny. As a level 1 Wizard you get access to Spellcasting with 3 cantrips and 6 spells known. For your cantrips Prestidigitation and Minor Illusion will allow you to do some more card tricks and Friends will let you con your way through life with ease. As for your spells...

Color Spray will let you toss out a whole deck of cards, blinding your opponents with blues and reds.

Distort Value is good for any con, allowing you to make an item seem more valuble.

Ice Knife can be red, since it’ll explode in an AoE and chill your opponents. (But not slow them.)

Jim’s Magic Missile will let you throw out three cards that do considerably more Force damage than a regular Magic Missile.

Protection from Evil and Good can be good help for your partner in crime.

And Tenser’s Floating Disk will be helpful to haul all that loot.

You also get Arcane Recovery, letting you recover spell slots equal to half your Wizard level rounded up.

LEVEL 9 - WIZARD 2

Now you’re probably wondering what Wizard Twisted Fate would be right? You’re thinking obviously Divination, or maybe Illusion? Perhaps even Enchantment to further the con?

Nope; Conjuration baby! Put bluntly Twisted Fate conjures cards into his hand, which you can do with Minor Conjuration. You spend an action to conjure up an inanimate object that’s no more than 3 feet cubed and weighs no more than 10 pounds. The object must look like a non-magical object you’ve seen before and is visibly magical, radiating dim light out to 5 feet, and it lasts for 1 hour unless it takes damage or you use this feature again, so you can only have one fake card at a time. There’s a lot of really funky stuff you can do with this and it’s up to your creativity to make it shine!

For your spells of choice Magic Missile is a far more accurate blue card, and Feather Fall can help you make sure you don’t lose your hat.

LEVEL 10 - WIZARD 3

3rd level Wizards can learn second level spells like Jim’s Glowing Card Coin to distract the table while you make your getaway and Darkvision, to help with the fact that your pitiful human eyes can’t see in the dark.

LEVEL 11 - WIZARD 4

At 4th level you get an Ability Score Improvement: increase your Dexterity for more precise card throws and an easier time avoiding damage.

You also learn another Cantrip: seeing as we’re still a pitiful human who can’t see in the dark the Light spell will let you light up a golden card to illuminate the path ahead.

You also learn two spells: Hold Person will let you Paralyze (not stun!) a target for your teammates to beat them down and Misty Step to pickup Flash.

LEVEL 12 - WIZARD 5

5th level Wizards can prepare third level spells like Melf’s Minute Meteors for a whole pack of red cards! As an action you create six floating red cards around your person and as a bonus action you can shoot one or two of them up to 120 feet away. Each creature within 5 feet of the point where the card explodes must make a Dexterity saving throw or 2d6 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Alternatively if Malcom is looking for you grab the Nondectection spell to make hiding just a little bit easier when he doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.

LEVEL 13 - WIZARD 6

6th level Conjuration Wizards get Benign Transposition, allowing them to use an action to Flash up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space they can see. You can also instead choose a space within range that is occupied by a Small or Medium creature and swap places with them if they’re willing. Once you use this feature, you can’t use it again until you finish a long rest or you cast a conjuration spell of 1st level or higher. Remember that this does take your action, meaning that you most likely can’t cast spells or attack after using this, but it’s still an insanely good utility.

You also learn more spells and I think everyone knows what Fireball is; full-AP red card go boom. If you’re looking for someone to give a date with Destiny then Clairvoyance will let you create a sensor in a familiar location to either see or hear what’s going on within.

LEVEL 14 - WIZARD 7

7th level Wizards get access to 4th level spells, which is what we were looking for with Dimension Door. As an action you teleport up to 500 feet away to a location you can either visualize or describe. You can bring objects that you can carry and also bring one willing creature of your size or smaller who is carrying gear up to its carrying capacity. This spell actually pairs very well with Clairvoyance that we got last level because you can use that spell to peek into an area so you can visualize it for Dimension Door.

For your second spell? Eh; how about you jump back to third level for Counterspell? You’ve gotta protect the gang after all. And remember that as a Wizard your spell list is only restricted by what spell scrolls you can find.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 6

Now that we’ve finally made out date with Destiny it’s time to learn some more card tricks. 6th level Fighters get another Ability Score Improvement and we’re going to want to cap our Dexterity for sharper cards and thicker leather chaps.

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Battle Masters get one more Superiority Die and two more Maneuvers: Maneuvering Attack is great to set up an ambush, letting your jungler use their reaction to speed up at your command. Precision Attack helps if your opponent is building armor, letting you add your Superiority Die to your accuracy.

You can also spend one minute to Know Your Enemy. For every minute your study your enemy you can learn if any of the creature’s following stats are equal, superior, or inferior to you:

Strength score

Dexterity score

Constitution score

Armor Class

Current hit points

Total class levels (if any)

Fighter class levels (if any)

Considering that you have levels in Wizard this can be very useful to determine what saving throws to go for when you start the fight! Is their Dexterity equal to yours? Maybe don’t hit them with the DEX save. Is their AC high? Maybe do hit them with the DEX save.

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 8

8th level Fighter? Lady luck is smiling! Take the Lucky feat for an Ace up your sleeve when the going gets tough.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 9

9th level Fighters get Indomitable, letting them reroll a failed Saving Throw once per Long Rest. Consider it a bit of Serpentine luck helping you when you really need it, so use it wisely; preferably on something you actually have a chance of rolling well on your save for?

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battle Masters get Improved Combat Superiority dice, turning them into d10s. You also get two more Manuevers and we’ll be jumping over to the Class Feature Variants UA for Silver Tongue, letting you add your Superiority die to any Deception or Persuasion check you make. The Snipe meanwhile will let you sneak a card into your combo, allowing you to spend your Bonus Action to make a ranged weapon attack with the Superiority die, adding the dice to the damage if you hit. This can be a good way to sneak a bit more damage in if you teleport behind a squishy carry.

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 11

Our capstone is the 11th level of Fighter for a third Extra Attack, letting you attack three times per round or six times with Action Surge. If you activated Silver Tongued this equals a total of 5 attacks with Advantage over the course of two turns, or 8 attacks with Advantage if you use Action Surge! With that many cards in the deck someone’s going to have to fold.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Lady luck is smilin' - You have an immense amount of utility with magic and maneuvers to help you both in and out of combat; tons of mobility with Conjuration spells and a good bit of roleplay utility with some strong skills, a great passive perception, and Roguish proficiencies.

Cheater's just a fancy word for winner - If your DM allows you to use the Silver-Tongued feat then you’ll be making almost all your attacks with Advantage, allowing you to maximize your maneuvers. And +14 Deception is great for RP in its own right.

I never bluff - Despite having several abilities that only come back after a Long Rest you’re quite capable of surviving on just Short Rests and Refillable Potions. With Arcane Recovery giving you back up to 4 levels worth in spell slots, Benign Transposition coming back whenever you use a Conjuration spell, and all your Fighter abilities coming back on a Short rest you can keep trucking on even after a bad teamfight.

CONS

Nobody touches the hat - Wizard levels plus a 0 in Constitution results in about a hundred health. Invest in some Ruby Crystals (Amulet of Health) when you can or else you’re just a Power Word: Kill away from death.

All or nothin' - Throwing knives honestly aren’t that practical as a ranged weapon. If you don’t mind not having a melee backup try making a Repeating (Cross)bow instead.

Only a fool plays the hand he's dealt - The biggest truth however is that the 2 levels in Artificer really doesn’t do much for you. All you get is a bunch of spells you could’ve gotten from Wizard and the Returning Dagger. If you have a reliable way to get some throwing cards (either from a DM or an allied Artificer giving you a more reliable ranged weapon) I’d suggest splitting those two Artificer levels among Fighter and Wizard for more Ability Score Improvements and a 20 in Intelligence.

But you can work well alone and with a crew. You’re the ace in the hole for any party, even a party of 1. Keep your cards close to your chest and play what you need at the right time. Just be sure to know when to put down your cards and pull out the big guns.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

[lovebitesimagines]

You- Gift.

Hello my loves! Here is the first chapter of my new imagine series. Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist. 

[1] [2]

Message me to be on the tagged list for this series!

Warnings: Swearing, violence.

You had secretly loved Tommy Shelby, since you where both teenagers. Does he feel the same way about you? 

YOUR POV

You sat alone in a train carriage, the fabric of the hard-backed seat irritating every inch of skin that wasn’t protected by your sundress. Your forehead was leaning against the slightly damp window, the condensation leaving small droplets of water form upon your face. The landscape was twisted and obscured, smudges of green, blue and orange fused together as the train continued to rapidly move through the countryside. The opportunity to immerse yourself in nature rarely presented itself, the majority of your time spent within the familiar town of Small Heath. Your day had been spent running errands, which required you to travel to the centre of Birmingham, a journey you despised taking. It had resulted you in feeling fatigued, an unusual grouchiness settling restlessly within your body.  This was why you had chosen to situate yourself in a carriage towards the back of the train, quietly enjoying the solitude that it brought.

Your heart sunk as the doors to the carriage slid open, allowing the noise from outside to creep into your little area of solitude, shattering your peace. You scowled softly, digging into your black, leather handbag in search for the book that you had brought with you. You where intending on making it clear to whoever had rudely interrupted your tranquillity, that you were not prepared to partake in pointless conversation. Pulling out your battered copy of ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte, your fingers filed through the pages, finding where you had last read. You shuffled down into the seat, deliberately focusing your eyes upon the page in front of you. You heard the strangers footsteps move across the carriage floor, stopping as they sat in the seat opposite you, the springs creaking in protest. Your eyes flickered up from the page, curiosity getting the better of you. You took a sharp intake of breath, as you noticed who had joined you in the carriage.

Tommy fucking Shelby.

You had known Tommy all your life, constantly living in frightened awe of him and his family. You had gone to school with his younger brother John, who was one of your good friends. He had always been incredibly protective of you, forever keeping a watchful eye upon you. No one had dared to cross you, not with you being a friend of one of the Shelbys’. His Aunt Pol had taken you under her wing, when your mother had passed. Both her and John had helped you settle into your first flat, a minute walk from The Garrison. Tommy, on the other hand, was different to you altogether. You would give each other a passing nod, if you crossed paths, but you had barely said a word to him in all the time you had known each other. Despite the silence you had both insisted on maintaining, Tommy had secretly defended you on numerous occasions. He had broken your ex-boyfriends nose when you found out about his infidelity and had scared away countless unwanted suitors.

You had harboured a secret crush on Tommy, since the day you had first met him. He was much older than you at the time, but you couldn’t help but daydream about your future together. It could only ever be a figment of your imagination, of course. Tommy could never feel the same about you. You suppressed the adoration you felt for him, glad that he never spoke to you.

Your eyes met his from across the pages of your book, his glacier blue eyes meeting your own (Y/C/E) ones, lighting up in recognition. His eyes had always sent unseen shivers down your spine, and today was no different. They shone of an intelligence and wisdom so rare in this world. His eyes flickered down to the book you were reading, an impish smirk slowly spreading across his lips.

“Jane Eyre?” he questioned, his voice destroying the silence that had settled between the both of you. He cocked his head slightly to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s one of my favourites” you replied, slightly lowering the book onto your lap. You watched his eyes move down to where the book had settled, the smirk on his lips growing.

“I can tell” he noted, nodding down towards the book. Sure, you knew some people would call your copy battered. The paper cover was torn in places, pages yellow stained and folded down at the edges. You preferred to use the term ‘well-loved’. You raised an eyebrow at his response, folding down the page you were on before placing it to the side.

“Maybe you should try reading it sometime” you suggested, folding your arms. Tommy let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I have better things to do, than read a stupid book” he asserted, reaching in his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held out the packet towards you. “Smoke?”. You sighed softly, accepting his offer and pulling one from the packet, placing it between your lips. He rummaged for a match, running it along the boxes rough surface, creating a small flame. You leaned forward, lighting the cigarette, taking a slow drag. Tommys’ eyes flickered down quickly to your chest, before moving back up to meet yours.

“Books aren’t stupid Tommy” you stated, blowing the smoke out slowly. You watched as he lit his own, taking a drag before he replied.

“I’ll take your word for it (Y/N)” he smirked again, leaning back again in his seat, turning his head to face the window, seeming to signal the end of your conversation. You leaned your head back against the carriage wall, your eyes closing shut with a soft sigh, bringing the cigarette back up to your lips. “Far away from home though, aren’t you?” your eyes opened up again at the sound of Tommys’ voice.

“I could say the same for you” you commented, your eyes again meeting his.

“I am a business man (Y/N). I had business to do” Tommy leant forward, his eyes staring deep into your own. “I’m asking what business you have, being so far away from home?”.

“You have barely said two words to me since you’ve met me, and you expect me to divulge in my business?” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s a lie. I said Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you a couple of months ago” Tommy retorted with a pout, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette against the window.

The train came to a halt, the breaks screeching as you entered Small Heath. You sighed quietly in relief that the journey had come to an end. You stood up with a stretch, reaching down to grab your bags, blinking in surprise as Tommy had grabbed them before you could.

“Let me help” he stated, the tone of his voice making it clear arguing would be pointless. You both made your way onto the busy platform, the noise and smoke signalling that you where home. The familiar silence returned between you both, as you led the way to your flat, ignoring the inquisitive glances people where throwing in your direction.

“I can take them from here” you announced as you reached your front door, taking the bags from Tommys hands. “Thank you”. He nodded in response, his gaze faltering on you for a couple of seconds, before he walked off. You pushed your front door open, thankful when you heard it close behind you. Your mind spun as you made your way to your room, dropping your bags with a thud upon the floor.

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

The door to The Garrison swung open in front of you, the few locals sat at the bar welcoming you as you strutted inside. It was quieter than normal, for this time of night. Your eyes scanned the room, as you made your way to the bar. You were slightly surprised to see a few strangers sat at a table in the corner, their faces new around Small Heath. Your light blue dress embraced your curvy frame, the hem resting just above your knees. The fabric swayed as you walked. Your (Y/C/H) fell just above your shoulders, a few strands framing your face.

You were quite fond of your local haunt, the way it gave you a sense of familiarity. You knew every local by name, and they knew you, with many providing you with comfort and support after your mums passing. You had celebrated each birthday here since you where sixteen and had nursed each heart break over a bottle of your favourite whiskey.

“The usual (Y/N)?” Harry asked you, greeting you with a welcoming smile. Harry had been a close friend of your mums, and you had called him ‘Uncle’ since before you could walk.

“You know me too well Uncle” you chuckled softly, perching upon your favourite bar stool. Harry slid the bottle of whiskey and a glass in your direction. You unscrewed the lid, pouring the golden-brown liquid into the glass, before bringing it up to your lips. You shivered in delight, as the sweet liquid slid down your throat.

“You’re far too beautiful, to be left alone in a place like this” a deep voice sneered. You turned to face the direction where it had come from and was met by one of the strangers who had been sat in the corner. His hair was limp and greasy, flakes of his previous meals clinging onto the stubble on his chin. You grimaced softly as he leant in towards, his breath warm and stagnant against your face.

“I’m not alone. My boyfriend will be here shortly” you lied, taking a sip of your whiskey, desperate for this man to leave. Your eyes flickered towards the bar, your heart sinking when you saw Harry was nowhere to be seen, probably sorting something out the back. You yelped in shock as the man lashed out at your glass, knocking it from your hand. It shattered against the bar, the shards spilling out on the surface.

“You’re lying to me. You’re waiting for no man” he snarled, his hand snaking around your waist.

“I suggest, you get your fucking hands off her. Now” Tommy Shelby growled, a gun pressed to the back of the mans head. Your eyes looked up to him, a panicked expression playing upon your face. Your heart was thumping against your chest, as the man slowly moved away.

“Alright mate, no need for that” he stammered, holding his hands up in defeat. Tommy kept the gun trained on him, his eyes never blinking, never moving away from the man and his friends, even after they left. You sighed softly, the fear you had experienced leaving your body.

“(Y/N)! You okay?” John rushed over to your side, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into a tight hug. Tommy was still frozen facing the door, his jaw twitching angrily.

“I’m okay. I’m okay” you murmured, reaching for the whiskey bottle as he pulled away. You brought it up to your mouth, taking a large gulp before wiping your lips.

“We’ll find out who he is, I fucking promise you. He won’t bother you again” John swore, leading you into the back room, glancing at Tommy with a frown on his face as you both passed. His older brother had now turned his attention to you both, an unrecognizable look forming upon his face. He had dropped his gun down, holding it loosely by his side, his shoulders drooped lowly.

Your mind was spinning, struggling to catch up with the events of the evening so far. You were lucky that Tommy had happened to be there, at just the right time. What puzzled you the most, was his reaction towards it. This was different than the other times he had been your knight in a flat cap. His response had seemed more dramatic, more incensed. You struggled to think about what could have changed, for him to respond in such a manner.

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

You awoke the next day, to sunlight filtering through your moth-eaten curtains. You rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the fact that you were now awake. Your mind was throbbing slightly, an effect of the whiskey you had consumed last night. You and John had stayed in The Garrison until early hours, drinking away the memories of the incident. Tommy had sat opposite you both, sullen and silent, barely touching his favourite beverage. You sat up, groaning softly in protest, the room spinning slightly around you, your throat sore with thirst.  Water. You needed water.

You began to make your way into your kitchen, your feet padding against the grubby, wooden floor. You made a mental note to clean it later, when you felt more alive. Your flat was modest, just the right size for you. The walls where desperately in need of re-decorating, but you couldn’t afford fresh wallpaper to replace the torn ones that you currently had. You had bookshelves along the hall, each one full to the brim of pages that you had turned time and time again.

The kitchen tiles where cold against your feet, making you shiver slightly. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you filled it with water from the tap, drinking it down with one gulp before refilling. Two sharp knocks on your front door rang throughout your house. Curious as to who it was, you made your way down the hall, before slowly opening the front door. You were met with a space where someone once was, the area now empty apart from a few passers by going about their day. You were about to shut the door, before your eyes noticed a parcel wrapped in brown parchment on your door step. You knelt down to pick it up, the paper crinkling under your touch.

You barely made it back to your kitchen, before your interest got the better of you. Discarded scraps of paper left a trail through the hall, your heart thumping as you caught side of what was hidden underneath. A brand-new copy of Jane Eyre, the pages white and untainted with fingerprints. You lifted the book up to your nose, your eyes closing with joy as you inhaled in the fresh book smell. There was only one person who could have given you such a well thought out gift.

Tommy fucking Shelby.

*****************************************************************************************************

TOMMYS POV

Tommy would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you at all since the train journey. The truth was, that you consumed his thoughts entirely, and you had done since the day he had first met you. You where thirteen and he had just turned eighteen. He remembered how skinny your legs used to be, constantly covered in bruises from trying to keep up with the boys at school. John had brought you back home for the first time, introducing you proudly to the family as the only girl in school who didn’t think he was stupid. It had soon become clear to you all, that friendship would be the only thing to blossom between you and his brother. Tommy had been there the day you turned sixteen and had witnessed your beauty blossom. He had watched from a distance as you felt grief for the first time, when your mother passed.

Tommy hated to admit that he loved you. He loved you from afar, secretly afraid that admitting his feelings would scare you away. He decided the best thing to do, was to ignore your existence almost altogether. His decision had proved difficult at times, his knuckles stained with mens’ blood from defending you on more than one occasion. Tommys’ brothers, and Aunt Pol where all aware of his infatuation with you. He had drunkenly admitted his feelings to Arthur one night, tired of his brothers constant teasing of you being without a woman. No one ever mentioned it out loud, out of fear that your anger would make an appearance.

When he had seen you on the train, his heart was running a marathon inside his chest. Tommy knew how to talk to women, after all he had shared his bed with plenty. But with you, it was different. You had made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, as if it where smothered with the thickest caramel. You made his words jumble up inside his mind, requiring extra concentration to ensure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. He had cursed himself silently when he saw you grow annoyed at his critique of the book you had been reading. Tommy adored how smart you were. The women he had been with in the past, did not even come close to compare to you. He grew frustrated at himself, for conversing so easily with you. It would have been so much easier for him, to just ignore you. Yet you were like a drug to him. Once he heard the first words spill out from between your lips, he just wanted more of a taste. You made him greedy.

When Tommy had walked into The Garrison that evening, his heart broke at the sight of the man with his arm around your waist. He didn’t quite notice distressed expression that painted your face, until you heard the man talk.

“You’re waiting for no man”.

Anger had risen in him and burned furiously under his skin. How dare anyone talk to you like that. Tommy had pressed the muzzle of his gun, deep into the back of the mans neck, wishing he could pull the trigger. The panicked expression he saw behind your eyes made his heart sink. You were looking at him like that. That’s why Tommy kept his focus upon the man, turning his back to you as the man walked out of The Garrison. Tommy knew the words that where whispered behind his back, and the reputation him and his family upheld. It stung him to think that you saw him in the same light. The mans words had resonated within him. He desperately wished that you where the man you were waiting for. He had turned to face you, struggling to suppress the jealousy he experienced at the sight of you and John.

It would never be him, would it?

He had returned home, Aunt Pol interrogating him as he sat at the table. That woman was like a mother to him. She always had a knack for knowing when something was bothering him. She always claimed that it was due to the gypsy blood in her.

The next day, after encouragement from Aunt Pol, he was at a local bookshop, situated on the outskirts of Small Heath. Tommy knew this would be the place you only visited in your dreams, the prices too extravagant for you. Yet he had watched from a distance, the way your eyes lit up with wonder and want as you walked past. This wasn’t the place a man like him would have ever visited, and he felt out of place as he searched the shelves. He felt curious eyes burn into his back, the whispered questions floating in the air. He ignored them all. You were worth this.

He had wrapped it up neatly in brown parchment, a task which had taken him near enough half an hour. This was not one of Tommys’ strong points, and if it had been a family member he would have given up by now. But he wanted this to be perfect for you. You were worth this.

Tommy had spent twenty minutes on your door step before he knocked on the door, silently arguing with himself as he clutched the parcel. He was debating on the right words to say to you, poetry that would make you melt in his arms. He knocked twice, before fear got the better of him. What was he thinking? He couldn’t talk to you now, he couldn’t think of the perfect words that you deserved. He had left the parcel upon your door step, running to hide behind some crates. He watched as you opened the door, your eyes scanning the area in search of the person who had intruded your peace. Little did you know, it was him. The door closed behind you, and Tommy stood up, his eyes never leaving your door.

It would never be him. Could it?