#i wanted a removal spell for weak creatures and figured may as well make it an aura

[dravidious]

You're very cool

Black commons!

[koushou]

Can you please do zhongli/rex lapis x fem shy reader. The fem reader is extremely shy and doesn't have any friends cause of her quiet and timid nature and she lives in liyue with her parents and an only child. She loves to story of rex lapis and the history of liyue and accidentally meet zhongli and sometime later he revealed to be rex lapis to the reader. Also, the fem is a villager of liyue and doesn't have super powers to fight just a weak villager.

fateful meeting

pairing : zhongli x shy f!reader {fluff}

warnings : none

word count : 2.6k

a/n : thank you for this request! I apologize for the wait, I dont think i made the reader as shy as you requested jshdjd sorry, i hope you enjoy !

Even as a child you had been fascinated by the stories of Liyue, or rather, a specific figure in its history. Perhaps, the archons have heard your passionate nature regarding Liyue, for a fateful meeting one day will change your peaceful life forever. 

Life was everything you could’ve ever wished for.

Only the soft, consistent chopping of a knife against a wooden cutting board and an occasional quiet flip of a page in a book could be heard in one of the many homes in Qingce Village. 

Sunlight seeps through the cracks of the window you sat by, casting a bright glow on the words inside the book in your hands, seeming as if the story itself was coming to life.

Well, not that the story wasn’t coming to life, it had already come to life, for you were currently reading about the history of your beloved nation, Liyue.

The book you were so engrossed in was not an unfamiliar story, having already read it a couple times. You would never grow tired of this one.

A smile played on your lips as you approached one of your favorite parts of this specific chapter. 

Softly fiddling with the corner of the thin page, your eyes scanned over the familiar words slowly.

Wielding a spear so sharp no blade could even hope to compete against, he emerges from the shadows, illuminating a golden aura around his built figure. In one swift motion, the polearm-wielding fighter sends a rumble through the ground beneath him, ridding of any enemies around him in a flash. A sigh leaves his lips as he removes his hood, examining his surroundings. A long ponytail of golden-brown hair trails down to his waist, flowing softly in the wind. His eyes the same shade, if anything more golden, slowly fluttering shut, head turning upwards, immersing himself in the soft breeze.

You pause and gaze out the window, sighing at the scene of hundreds of miles of tall mountains spread out all around, all thanks to one person. One archon, to be more specific.

About to flip the page once more to continue, you were interrupted by your mother’s voice calling out from the kitchen. 

“Y/N, dear, could you fetch me some berries down the river if you aren’t busy?”

You tear your eyes away from the book begrudgingly, calling back, “Fine, anything else?”

“Some sweet flowers and fowl would be great, thanks honey!”

You shut the book, placing it down on your table as you stand up to stretch, bones cracking at the movement.

As much as you wanted nothing but to snuggle back into your chair and immerse yourself back into the story, your parents were the most important people in your life, and you knew it was mainly up to you to take care of them.

Being an only child isn’t as lonely as people make it out to be, you get peace and quiet in the home, and you wouldn’t change it for anything else.

Kicking on your shoes you wore when you ventured outside, you picked up the basket that was used to collect food, as well as your hunting bow for the fowl.

You didn’t know how to fight, having spent your whole life secluded in the village, but you had enough hunting experience, at least.

About to head out, your eyes landed on the book now laying on the table and pondered for a moment, before grabbing it and placing it into the basket.

Despite your mother’s scolding about dangers reading outside, you just wanted a change of scenery while you lose yourself in Liyue’s history.

“I’m heading out now, Ma!” You call out as you push open the wooden door to your home, earning a hum from her in response.

The heat in Liyue would be pretty unbearable to outsiders, however having lived in the same village for almost all your life, it wasn’t anything new.

You hummed, greeting your neighbors occasionally with a wave, walking down to your usual place to fetch ingredients.

Finally reaching your destination not too far from the village, you crouch by the river as you picked the sweet flowers and berries your mother had asked for.

“Mmm, what else did she ask for again?” You thought out loud, forgetting the last ingredient, eyes landing on your bow.

“Oh right, fowl!”

You scan your surroundings, looking for any signs of birds, when suddenly you hear a sharp rustle of a bush behind you. 

Not having time to even turn around and investigate, a heavy weight pounced on you from behind, causing you to tumble forward.

You let out a yelp, feeling a pain through your arm that you had landed on, turning around to see the attacker.

Your eyes widened, seeing it had been a hilichurl that was currently standing above you, however, it didn’t feel like a regular hilichurl.

It had black smoke emitting around it, as if some type of curse had been placed on it, enhancing its strength.

The hilichurl spurt out some unintelligible words, before raising its bat and lunging at you once again.

You grab your bow beside you quickly, aiming at its head before completely missing due to your shaking hands.

Cursing under your breath, you pick up a rock and throw it weakly at the creature, causing it to stop only briefly before charging towards you again, seemingly more angered this time. 

This was it, you thought. All the time spent not learning how to fight, this must’ve been your punishment. 

You shield your face with your arms, hoping to at least lessen the impact, before hearing the hilichurl shout followed by a thud behind you. 

Moving your hands away from your head, you turn to see the hilichurl now lying unconscious a few feet away from you.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” 

A deep, masculine voice brings you out of your shock, as you turn slowly to meet your savior, instead met by a hand held out in front of you, offering assistance. 

Your eyes trailed up to the mysterious man’s face, before your breath caught in your throat.

A long ponytail of golden-brown hair trails down to his waist, flowing softly in the wind.

The man looked back at you curiously, hand still reached out toward you.

His eyes the same shade, if anything more golden.

Why were you suddenly reminded of those words in the book?

Your mouth gapes at the sight of the man above you, his presence bringing a strange feeling you didn’t recognize.

Your eyes widened. Could it be..?

“...excuse me? Are you alright?”

His voice brings you out of your daze once again, a worried look cast upon his handsome features. Wait, what?

It was only then did you realize how good looking the man was before you, turning red as you took his hand and stood up, wobbling a tiny bit.

“Thank you for saving me,” you bow slightly, quickly picking up your forgotten belongings on the ground, still flustered from the incident.

You were about to say goodbye and leave as quick as you could, before your book fell out of your basket and landed on the ground next to the man’s feet.

“Ah—“

The man bent down and picked up the book, about to hand it back to you, when he suddenly stopped and examined the cover.

You swore you could’ve been seeing things, but a small smile grazes his lips as he faces you.

“Are you also interested in the stories of Liyue?”

You stop in your tracks, turning to the man who was now flipping through the pages of the book to the section you had bookmarked prior.

His golden orbs now held an unreadable expression behind them, almost...nostalgic.

You felt a small surge of confidence as your favorite topic was brought up.

“Ah--yes, I am quite informed of the history of Liyue myself,” you smile softly to yourself, causing him to look up and chuckle.

“Is that so?” He hums, tilting his head upwards to face the blue sky, closing his eyes slowly. 

...slowly fluttering shut, head turning upwards, immersing himself in the soft breeze.

Your eyes widened at the sight.

There was no way.

But, there was no other explanation for it.

“May I...ask your name?” You ask carefully, awaiting his answer.

He shuts the book with a soft thud, handing it back to you to which you take back happily.

“I go by Zhongli.”

He offers you a smile, making your heart skip a beat and blood to your cheeks, as you stutter back your name in response.

“Be careful around these parts, monsters have been affected by some sort of spell here, making them stronger than usual,” he explains while putting away his spear he had used earlier.

Wielding a spear so sharp no blade could even hope to compete against.

There was no mistaking it.

“Are you perhaps--” 

You start to ask, gaining a curious gaze from him, however stopping in your words after realizing how bizarre you’d sound if you’d ask him the question you had been aching to voice since your meeting.

“Nevermind, I should get going,” You shake your head, thanking him once more before starting to walk away.

“If you’d like me to answer your question, meet me back here tomorrow, at the same time.”

Zhongli spoke behind you, making you turn and meet his eyes, which gazed back into yours almost knowingly. 

“But you don’t know what my question is,” you question, confusion evident on your features.

He chuckles again, the sound making you melt on the spot.

“Do not underestimate the geo archon.” 

With that, he disappears into the other direction, leaving you frozen in your place.

Did he just…?

A million thoughts were coursing through your head at the moment. But one thing was for sure, you couldn’t wait until tomorrow. 

--

That night, sleep did not come to you like usual.

With your head filled with thoughts about Zhongli, and his last words before departing, you were basically shaking with excitement.

Had you really met him?

Nevermind, your questions would all be answered the next day.

--

“I see you’ve arrived.”

Zhongli smiles at you, to which you return the gesture, still mesmerized by his delicate features to speak.

You had practically jumped out of bed this morning, making some jumbled excuse about fetching more berries and fowl to your mother, who was left dumbfounded.

Zhongli pats the spot beside him on the grass, and you notice his spear laying next to him on the other side.

Carefully sitting down next to the tall man, both of your backs leaned against the tree with its leaves above you providing minimal cover from the sun. It was then that you noticed the close proximity of your bodies, making you flush.

“So, would you like to ask me your question from yesterday?”

You bit your bottom lip nervously for a moment, before shaking your head and reaching next to you into the bag that you had brought. 

“Ah-- before that, Mr. Zhongli, you mentioned you are also interested in Liyue’s stories?” You pulled out the book from yesterday. 

He nods, as you flip open the book to the chapter you had bookmarked. The same chapter describing Rex Lapis’s first appearance.

“Just Zhongli is fine. And yes, I am also well-informed of the stories of Liyue. Would you like me to tell you some?”

You nod, showing him the marked section. “That would be nice, but could you answer this one question of mine first?”

He takes the book from your hands, bright pupils scanning over the words. A small breeze blew by just that moment, causing his long hair to lift slightly. The sunlight shone softly on his pale skin, giving him an almost ethereal aura.

You never thought someone could appear so calm and peaceful while reading a book.

“Yes, ask away.” 

He lifts his head up to meet your eyes, making you clear your throat, embarrassed you had been admiring him so openly.

Although that chapter remains your favorite chapter of all times, there had been one question that had stayed in the corner of your mind each time you read it.

“In that section, when Rex Lapis lifts his head and immerses himself in the wind, what do you think he was feeling? Satisfaction from eliminating his enemies? Or perhaps, tired from all the fighting in the Archon War?”

Zhongli hums, smiling gently at nothing in particular as he closes his eyes, lifting his head up towards the sky.

A small breeze passes by again, and you smile at the sight. You no longer questioned his true identity. You knew.

“That all may be true, however, I’d say he was feeling quite…” He pauses, as if trying to search for the right word.

“...saddened, almost.”

You tilt your head curiously, “Saddened?”

He nods, facing you, “Perhaps mournful, even. Have you ever wondered if Rex Lapis wanted to kill at all? Although those evil should be eliminated, they are still living souls, and perhaps he wished for everything to return to normal.”

Zhongli’s voice trailed off, as he held a sad feeling behind his eyes, making you unconsciously reach for his hand laying on his lap.

He looked at you in surprise at the sudden contact, and your eyes widened at your own actions, making a move to quickly retrieve your own hand, when he stops you.

 He brings the both of your hands together, now laying on his lap as red spreads through your cheeks.

The both of you sit in silence as a few beats pass, when he breaks the silence once again.

“I’d like to share with you some of my favorite stories of Liyue, would you be interested?”

You smile, nodding as he starts speaking again.

And he shares stories you’ve never heard before, or even some that you have, but a different version of. The difference in stories that you had believed your whole life made you surprised, not sure what to believe.

No, scratch that, deep down, you knew what to believe. Or, who to believe.

Zhongli shares his stories until it starts to become dark, to which he finally stops and suggests you return home.

“I’ll walk you home, it’s quite dangerous at night.”

You thank him, and you two start to make your way back, continuing to talk about Liyue and its fascinating history.

“Ah, it’s just right down there. Thank you for today, Zhongli.” You smile at him once again, ready to return before he stops you.

“Are you not going to ask me the question you had yesterday?” It was quite dark, so it was a bit difficult to tell, but you swore there was a slight smirk on his lips.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ve got my answer already.”

He raises his eyebrows, a teasing hint in his voice, “Are you sure, Y/N?”

Hearing your name roll off his tongue sent shivers through your body, smirking back at him.

“I’m quite sure, Rex Lapis.”

Zhongli opens his mouth to speak before closing, as deep chuckles ring through the night. Not long after, your own quiet giggles joining him. Finally, you both recover from your laughter.

“Goodnight then, Morax, you still have to share your stories with me tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, golden eyes shining even through the dark. “Same time?”

You grin back, before turning to return back to your home. “Same time.”

Maybe you’d ask him to teach you how to fight tomorrow.

On second thought, perhaps your lack of experience in fighting was a good thing. For because of it, you had met the man who only existed in books that you’d read everyday.

Your once peaceful life, although disrupted by the appearance of the one and only geo archon you admired so dearly, had now offered you something to look forward to each day.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Drown In My Desire

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: siren pls see ao3 for the full list of tags, this is... something edit: some formatting got fucked up and I had to make some adjustments, sorry if there are any wonky bits now 😅

Geralt is barely off the boat back from Skellige when he hears about the contract. There's a lone Siren causing trouble along one of the trading routes; drawing the ships closer until they wreck on the jagged rocks of the bay. The fishermen complain loudly about it as he disembarks and as soon as his feet hit dry land, Geralt makes straight for them. It's basic Siren behaviour, likely to be an easy job and then back on his way.

The men are offloading barrels and Geralt keeps out of the way as he approaches the one giving orders.

"Heard you've got a Siren problem," he says and the man straightens up to look him over.

"Aye, we do. You're a Witcher, right? You'll take care of it for us?"

"What are you offering?"

"Godsdamn anything at this point. Things wrecked six shops, we've lost 11 good men, countless hours of labour... Name your price, Witcher, we'll pay it."

"Five hundred," Geralt suggests.

"Fine by me. Bring back proof of the kill and you'll get your coin."

"Agreed." Normally, Geralt would request half in advance, but he's dealt with Novigradian merchants before and they're reputable and trustworthy most of the time. Plus, this is a simple contract, probably not even worth the 500 he asked for.

He stays to get the rest of the details from the merchant, then heads into town to rent a room at the Kingfisher. He won't be in town long, but he may as well have somewhere comfortable to sleep when he inevitably comes back cold and wet.

Geralt bribes a local fisherman to take him out to the bay or as close to it as possible - no one will go right in any longer. They moor on the far side and Geralt disembarks, thanking the man and paying him a generous fee for his service. He didn't have to bring him out here, and many other men wouldn't dare go this far.

He hears the song immediately and it makes him pause. Geralt has heard the Siren song before, has even fallen under its spell in the past, and this is not it. This is a Siren, for sure, and he is singing, but his song is... sad. Geralt frowns as he makes his way over the swell of the hill, the beach sprawling out before him in a wide arc.

It's sandy, devoid of rocks and debris but the tide is down and large, jagged rocks break the surface of the water. Waves roll up gently onto the shore and Geralt scans the shoreline, looking for any sign of the Siren. The song is coming from the far side of the small bay, but he sees nothing.

Readjusting the belts across his chest, he makes his way down to the beach and across the sand.

He spots him shortly, tucked under a shelf of rock out of the sun, curled around himself. Geralt thinks at first, that he may be injured, hence the despair in his song, but as he approaches he recognizes a sense of desperation in the tune. Approaching further, he catches the creature's interest and he looks up at him, his confusion a mixture of desperation and fear and resignation. Geralt looks him over as he approaches, not trusting the Siren not to jump out and attack. He knows well enough they're crafty and wouldn't stop short of setting a trap in dire situations.

But when Geralt is within a few feet, the Siren still makes no sign of wanting to hurt him. If anything, he looks miserable to have been discovered and Geralt does a quick once-over for injuries. There are none visible, but as the Siren unfurls himself, stretching out to his full length, Geralt pauses.

He doesn't know a lot about Siren anatomy past what a sorcerer will pay for what, but he's seen enough pricks in his life to know one when he sees it.

Jaskier whines internally and shuts up as soon as he sees the figure approaching. He was trying to attract... well, not him. Not a Witcher. He needs someone to solve his problem, not to be killed as the solution to someone else’s. But maybe that would be better than going through this every five years out here alone. Maybe the Witcher will be kind and put him out of his misery and then- well, at least he wouldn't be stuck here on his own like this.

But the man approaches and doesn't do anything. He just looks, walking closer until Jaskier could nearly reach out and touch him. Slowly, as non-threateningly as he can, he uncoils himself to prove he's not a threat. His cock aches and he's reminded of the fact that it's very blatantly on display, but that's the least of his problems now.

"You're the one who's been wrecking ships?" the Witcher asks and well, yes, Jaskier assumes that's his fault.

He's seen the wreckage washing up on shore, seen the men floating lifeless amongst the waves. He tries to help, but in this state, it's impossible to do much before the burning need overtakes him again and he's rendered useless.

"I didn't-" he starts, but he doesn't think a Witcher will care whether he meant to or not. He just wants a companion, wants someone to help ease this ache as his own attempts aren't helping any longer, he didn't mean for the humans to get in the way.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't mean for them to get hurt." Jaskier doesn't look at him, but the Witcher is quiet for some time and then,

"It’s... a mating song?" he guesses and something in Jaskier’s stomach twists uncomfortably that he could figure it out so quickly. Jaskier avoids his eyes looking instead at the way the sand coats the toes of his boots.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Jaskier's head snaps up at that and he looks the Witcher dead in the eye. He's never heard of a monster being given a chance to tell their side of the story, to redeem themself. The Witcher drops to the sand, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I-" Jaskier starts, unsure if this is some sort of twisted game. "I just- I was hoping someone might be nearby to hear-" he feels pathetic, his only consolation the fact that the Witcher doesn't know that he came here willingly, he left his family willingly to go out and explore the vast oceans and now he’s miserable.

"How long have you been here?" the Witcher asks, "you've never caused problems before now."

"Before now I wasn't-" he rolls his eyes in frustration at himself, slapping his tail against the sand. "Sirens," he starts again, "go through cycles. I'm in heat and I'm alone and every attempt I've made to reach out has only ended in ruin." Jaskier scowls at his own confession.

"I tried to help," he adds solemnly, "I just... I can't focus, I don't have the strength to pull them to the surface- I tried," he persists, "but I'm not much use like this." His cock aches and he groans at the timing. "I hardly think that deserves a death sentence." He wraps his tail protectively around himself, hiding the evidence of his situation.

"Not here to hurt you," the Witcher explains, "just here to keep people from dying. I could... help?"

Jaskier starts at the offer, his wings snapping tight against his back. "What do you mean, help?"

The Witcher huffs a light laugh and Jaskier tries not to be too hopeful. He's never strayed beyond his race, though he knows many who have and if he were to, well, the Witcher isn't awful to look at. In fact, Jaskier thinks, taking in his shining golden eyes and shock-white hair tied back in a loose bun, he’s quite lovely.

"Now, I know you're not stupid," the Witcher says, almost sounding amused. "The offer’s there. I'll help if you stop with the singing."

Maybe it's the need coursing through him, or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever been so kind to him before, or maybe there's just something about this man's smile that makes him weak. Jaskier agrees.

"Not here," he says. "Can you swim?" The Witcher cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'd prefer not to have to do this out in the open where anyone could just wander upon us. I do have some sense of decorum."

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Jaskier says simply. "It's not far." He shifts in the sand, sitting up and gesturing out toward the sea. "A human could make the swim, surely a Witcher can as well."

"Fair enough. I'm Geralt, by the way. And I can swim."

"Jaskier."

He squirms in the sand, trying to force his cock to withdraw, but it's no use. Geralt rises, kicking off his boots and removing his gear, tucking it away into a crevice in the rock. He bends down, scooping Jaskier into his arms. It's a shock and Jaskier is helpless to do anything but wind his arms around Geralt's neck and hold on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way his cock juts out obscenely, betraying him.

Geralt walks into the waves, releasing Jaskier as soon as the water is up to his waist. He holds his breath, lets Jaskier take his hand, and follows him down beneath the surf. Jaskier feels marginally better out of the sun and sand, in the cool water, but not much. He swims quickly, eager to return home and get on with... whatever Geralt has in mind to help.

He ducks into the narrow tunnel, dropping Geralt's hand and gesturing for him to follow behind. He does, and Jaskier leads the way back to an underwater cave. Glowing coral grows near the ledge of rock, where the water gives way to open air again. It gives off a little light, but Jaskier can see perfectly well and he knows Witchers have night vision.

He slips up onto the stony cave floor and offers a webbed hand to Geralt as he breaks the surface. To Geralt's credit, he only seems a little out of breath as he's hauled up out of the water.

Jaskier flops back on his side, watching the way Geralt rises to his feet, tugging his soaked shirt off and wringing the water from it. His trousers remain in place and Jaskier finds himself disappointed, curious to see what's hidden beneath. But this isn't a fun romp for the sake of it; this is an agreement, Geralt is simply doing him a favour.

When he seems pleased with the state of his shirt, Geralt lays it out and lies down next to him, lining his body up with Jaskier's. He's... stunning up close and it takes more of his effort than it should not to simply reach out and touch him just for the sake of it. He remembers fucking other Sirens, the touching, the press of bodies - he misses it, and he finds himself wishing this was something more than a simple favour. But that's selfish; Geralt is already offering him so much, for so little in return and nothing, even, for himself.

"You'll have to walk me through it," Geralt says with a smile, "I've never fucked a Siren before."

"Oh. You can just... touch me?" Jaskier says and Geralt reaches out tentatively, slipping a hand over the swell of his hip.

"Like this?"

Jaskier nods. It's not exactly what he wants, but it does feel nice and he's not about to try and direct. Geralt's hesitation is short-lived and he slides his hand up Jaskier's chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple and Jaskier's breath catches. He watches the movement of Geralt's hand as his fingers press into his skin, warm, despite the swim through cool water.

He shifts slightly, leaning up on one arm and pressing back down, over the swell of Jaskier's hip and he tugs him forward before abruptly before dragging his fingers up the length of Jaskier's swollen cock. He's slow, but delicate like he's learning his way around, but it feels incredible and it's hard for Jaskier not to just thrust up into the touch and take the pleasure from his hands.

Geralt's fingers slip over the ridge at the base of him, curling around him beneath it and squeezing as he pulls up over it.

"What is this?" he asks. He sounds intrigued, curious, and Jaskier can't help but indulge him.

"'S hard to fuck underwater," he hums, moaning as Geralt's fingers reach the tip of his cock. One dips into the slit, pressing against it, and Jaskier whimpers. "Keeps me from... slipping out." The noise Geralt makes in response is hard to determine, but it sounds interested. He moves his hand back down to squeeze around the ring.

His fingers slip over the swell of skin, pressing against it and running his thumb along the edge. He likes it, Jaskier realizes. It prods at something inside him and he presses his hips forward encouragingly.

"Does that feel good?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, pressing his forehead against his arm to keep from moaning out loud. He wants to show his appreciation, wants Geralt to know he can do as he pleases with him, but he doesn't want to push too hard.

Geralt’s light touches grow bolder, pressing more firmly, jerking him quickly and firmly and as Jaskier whines and squirms beneath him, Geralt grows more confident. His fingers slip down, pressing between the folds of his sheath, pressing right down to the base of his cock and within. No one has touched him like this before, the sharp jab of a Siren's claws not conducive to pressing inside.

Something warm spreads through his chest and he finds himself pulling away, embarrassed by how vulnerable he suddenly feels letting a stranger touch him this way, a Witcher no less. Immediately, Geralt withdraws his hands and the look on his face implies worry.

"Sorry," he blurts, then softer, "tell me if it's too much."

"No, I just. No one's ever-"

"I'll stop."

"No," Jaskier says again, a little too abruptly. "No, it was good, it just... caught me off guard." Geralt doesn't wait to be told twice, but his fingers move more slowly as they slip back into place at the base of his cock. Jaskier gives a little thrust on encouragement and Geralt presses his palm against him, giving him something to rut against while he explores.

Jaskier rocks against him, burying his face in his arm as the need takes over. Given an inch, he's no longer able to control himself, so needy for it that he's invited a perfect stranger into his home to fuck him. But Geralt doesn't seem to mind his desperation, doesn't mention it. He picks up quickly on Jaskier's most sensitive spots, going back to rub over them, pressing his thumb beneath the swollen ring and Jaskier's mind goes blank with the pleasure of it.

He's never noticed how sensitive it is there; the use of hands in Siren coupling is rare and limited to squeezing and jerking, not prodding and rubbing like Geralt does so easily. It's hardly Jaskier's fault that he can't contain himself in the face of this new, wonderful sensation.

The swell of his climax creeps up on him slowly, his mind too preoccupied with where Geralt's fingers are and what they're doing. It's not until Geralt wraps around the base of him, pushing as far into his sheath as his fingers with reach, that Jaskier realizes how close he is. His hips jerk hard and Geralt's other hand shoots out to steady him, holding him close as Jaskier writhes against him.

There's not much else he can do like this, just squirm and try to press as much of his cock against Geralt's palm as he can. Otherwise, he's under Geralt's control, letting him do what he wants, take him apart as he will. Geralt's thumb presses along the underside of his cock, pressing up toward the tip and Jaskier jerks hard as his orgasm washes over him, spilling over Geralt's hand and up his arm.

His hips twitch, cocking slipping easily against Geralt's arm with his own spend to slick the way. He'd be embarrassed, coming so quickly with so little stimulation to anything but his cock, but Geralt hums, sounding very pleased.

He continues touching him, fingers slipping through his spend and using it as slick, rubbing down the full length of him and rubbing against the slit at the tip.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier can only nod and whimper, still struggling to catch his breath.

Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into Jaskier's neck abruptly and Jaskier shifts onto his back to allow him better access. He likes the warmth of Geralt's breath on his neck, the soft press of his lips and the occasional flick of his tongue against his skin. Geralt says nothing as his kisses become firmer, pressing down the column of his throat and down his chest.

His hand remains on Jaskier's cock, stroking slowly as he kisses down the length of his body, not even pausing as pale skin gives way to shimmering scales. He seems unbothered by it and Jaskier likes the feeling of his lips on his tail. Geralt doesn't release his cock until he's moved fully down the length of Jaskier's body, straddling the end of his tail.

Geralt kisses around the base of his cock, not touching it but for the barest brush of his cheek as he passes. Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation, arching off the bed with each kiss that gets closer to where he wants it. When Geralt's lips finally press against him, he lets out a strangled groan and arches off the ground, hands immediately and automatically groping for Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt kisses up the length of him, teasing the tip with his tongue before moving back down again. Jaskier wants his mouth, wants to feel that wet heat around him, so different than the cool touch of one of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a mouth around his cock, but he's used to sharp teeth, to slow and cautious strokes. When Geralt gets his mouth around him, he's anything but.

The moment Geralt's lips wrap around him, quick and eager, sliding his tongue over him and pressing his lips in close, holding him tight as he sinks right to the base. His tongue presses in where his fingers had been and Jaskier knows now that he likes exploring, likes discovering what makes Jaskier squirm and taking advantage of it. And he's incredibly good at it.

His fingers that had, up until now, been happily settled on his hips, push up to brush against his skin. One hand remains, seeking out the smallest part of his waist and settling in the dip as the other moves down again. Jaskier's foggy mind suggests that he intends to wrap around the base of his cock, but Geralt gets distracted somewhere between. His fingers pass over Jaskier’s slit and he pauses. Slowly, Gerlt lifts his head, licking up the length of Jaskier's cock and looking at the opening beneath his fingers.

"Can I?" he asks and Jaskier nods.

This is... new. He knows for women it can be pleasurable to be touched this way, but he's never had anyone do it to him. As a child, they told stories about men who fucked each other like this, the way they fuck women, but Jaskier had been young and naive and passed them off as nothing but stories. He'd never found anyone who wanted to touch him that way and had assumed, like most things children talk about, it was a rumour.

But Geralt's fingers tease the opening and sparks rush over his skin. Jaskier's cock throbs and he pushes himself up to watch. Geralt catches his eyes for a brief moment, before dropping back to his work and pushing inside.

"Oh," he breathes, "you're wet." Jaskier squirms, as his body gives way to Geralt's finger, quickly joined by a second.

As with everything, he moves slowly at first, pushing deep and rubbing into him. It feels good, much better than Jaskier could have expected and then Geralt bumps against something inside him and Jaskier cries out, digging his claws into Geralt's shoulder.

When he realizes what he's done, he releases him quickly, but Geralt seems unfazed and he's smiling when he meets Jaskier's eyes again.

"You like that?" he asks and Jaskier lets out a breathy, yes. Geralt grins at him and ducks down to wrap his lips around the tip of Jaskier's cock.

Geralt's fingers work in time with his mouth, picking up speed as Jaskier's groans become more frequent, less controlled. It doesn't take him long like this, with his cock slipping down Geralt's throat and Geralt's fingers constantly pressing against whatever that is inside him that feels so fucking good.

He comes with a gasp as Geralt thrusts up into him again and Geralt makes no attempt to keep him from pushing his cock deeper into his throat. If anything, he seems glad for it, and when Jaskier slumps back against the ground again, Geralt pulls off his cock with slow precision, careful to wrap his lips tightly around the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and his chest heaves, but he's aware of Geraly lying back down next to him.

"That felt... good."

"No one has ever touched you like this?" Geralt asks lightly. Jaskier waves a clawed hand at him in response. "Mmm, understandable. But you liked it?" Jaskier huffs a tired laugh and turns to face him.

"Very much."

"Can I?" Geralt asks, already sliding slick fingers along his waist.

"Please."

Geralt rises to his knees, straddling Jaskier's hips for a moment before dropping to the ground on the other side of him. He presses right up against him, slipping an arm under his neck and holding him close as his other hand presses flat against Jaskier's stomach, sliding downward. He crooks two fingers, pushing inside him and seeking out that same spot again.

He finds it with ease and when Jaskier jerks hard, Geralt pulls him in against his chest. He drops his forehead to Jaskier's, breathing hard against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Geralt thrusts into him, quick and precise, then slows to tease at the opening, fingers slipping slowly in and out, and Jaskier can't decide which he likes more.

When he's quick, it punches the breath out of him, leaves him mindless and aching for more, but then he slows, gently caresses and rubs into him and it's like a slow fire burning within him, gradually burning brighter. His mind goes blank, foggy with lust, and he wraps himself around Geralt's shoulders, drawing him close. Even with Jaskier wrapped around him, he never falters and before long Jaskier is writhing again, his tail slapping hard against the floor as pleasure courses through him.

He's overwhelmed, so entirely encompassed by pleasure that he can't do more than cling to Geralt and whimper until, at last, he comes, his cock untouched where it spurts over his hip.

Slick drips from his slit, mixing with his come and Geralt pulls out slowly, swiping his fingers through it and sliding them around Jaskier's cock. He cries out at the first touch, oversensitive from multiple consecutive orgasms, but it still feels good underneath the sensitivity and he can't bring himself to tell Geralt to stop.

When Geralt finally lets him go, Jaskier flops onto his back and stares up at him. Geralt is watching him, his eyes dark but bright, and he smiles. Unthinking, Jaskier reaches up, wrapping one hand around Geralt's cheek and tugging him down toward him. At the last second, he realizes what he's doing and hesitates, but Geralt closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

It doesn't last long and Jaskier has to keep himself from nipping at his lips when they part. Geralt presses up close and for the first time, he feels the hard line of Geralt's cock beneath his trousers and it makes his breath catch. For a moment, he just stares at him, enthralled by the idea that Geralt is turned on by this.

"You're... aroused?" he asks and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I'm fine."

"Could I touch you?"

"Mmm, if you like."

Jaskier grins, shifting onto his side and pushes Geralt over. He laughs and goes easily, watching as Jaskier spreads a hand over his chest. He maps out the planes of his chest, pushing clawed fingers through soft chest hair before dragging them lightly down toward the hem of his trousers.

He rakes his eyes over the jut of Geralt's cock, but doesn't touch, afraid of pushing too far. A favour, he reminds himself, Geralt is doing him a favour here. So he slips his hand back up to his stomach, mimicking the way Geralt touched him at first, exploring the little dips and rises in his skin, careful not to catch his claws.

And when he looks up to him again, Geralt is watching him. Something in the way he looks at him makes Jaskier's chest tight and he dips down again, catching Geralt's lips in a kiss. Geralt kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around so he can pull Jaskier on top of him.

Both hands move down, cupping the swell of Jaskier's tail and rocking him slowly forward. Jaskier's cock, still sensitive, presses against Geralt's through the rough fabric of his trousers. He hisses at the drag, but Geralt moans at the friction and the sound goes straight through him. This time, Jaskier does it on purpose.

They find an easy rhythm between the two of them and even with Geralt's trousers in the way, the sensitivity soon gives way to pleasure and Jaskier ruts against him, kissing him hard despite the lingering fear that he'll bite too hard. Geralt however, seems unconcerned. He's got one hand buried in Jaskier's hair, the other pressing between them, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. It takes him a moment, but he gets them undone, finally pulling his cock free and Jaskier groans as he ruts against him.

Geralt is hot, his cock even more so, and Jaskier basks in the warmth, pressing himself closer, even with Geralt’s hand still between them. He's sure he could come just like this, happy to rut against him, but then Geralt's fingers are pressing against his slit again. His fingers come away slick and he winds his hand around Jaskier's cock, stroking him slowly.

"What do you need?" he asks and Jaskier whimpers.

"What you did before," he breathes, "could you... do that again?" In an instant, Geralt flips him onto his back again, dragging his fingers up to his slit, but Jaskier stops him. "Could you... with your cock?"

"Oh. Fuck, yeah."

Geralt shifts, pushing his trousers down and kicking them off before pressing up close again. He pulls Jaskier into a deep kiss, his hand sliding away to bring his hips closer. He ruts against him, pushing through the slick and come and when he catches on Jaskier's slit, Jaskier lets out a little gasp and grasps at Geralt's shoulders.

Geralt pushes forward pressing into him and Jaskier holds his breath as he stretches open on his cock. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he settles and then he rocks forward, slowly at first, just short little thrusts that leave Jaskier aching, pushing himself onto him, wanting more.

And Geralt gives it to him. He sinks deep, hooking a knee over Jaskier's hip to hold him close as he ruts, his cock pressed firmly against that spot that makes him wild. Jaskier bucks and whines, his own cock slipping against Geralt's with every thrust. He delights in the feeling of Gerslt inside him, of his warmth and the stretch of his cock, sliding into him and filling him wholly.

He's surprised to find Geralt as breathless as he is when he looks up at him and he can't help but tip forward and nip at his lower lip. Geralt groans and kisses him hard. He pushes him onto his back so he's straddling his hips and when he sits back, Jaskier's cock presses between his cheeks.

He rocks his hips, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat around his cock and Geralt shudders as he pushes back against him. His eyes flick up to Jaskier's and he licks his lips.

"Can I try something?" he asks and Jask nods enthusiastically.

Geralt withdraws immediately, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's slit. When he withdraws, he reaches behind himself, and Jaskier burns to know what he's doing, but the slick fingers wrap around his cock, and Geralt sits back on him. Jaskier groans low as Geralt's body engulfs him, heat seeping into every inch where they touch and he reaches out, fingers digging into his thighs, so careful not to leave scratches.

Geralt rocks back onto him, taking the full length of Jaskier's cock and grinding back against him. He rolls his hips and squeezes around him, pulling right up to the tip before dropping back down the length on him. Jaskier is breathless, helpless to do anything but squeeze Geralt's thighs and bite his own lip.

Tentatively, he wraps one hand around Geralt's cock, slipping webbed fingers over the head of his cock. Geralt moans softly, sliding one hand over Jaskier's and guiding it down. Jaskier nearly stops breathing as the head of Geralt's cock nudges against his slit and then he's sliding in again, filling him up even as he squeezes around Jaskier's cock.

It's so much. Jaskier's body sings with the twin pleasures of being filled so wholly and sinking into Geralt himself as he shifts his hips up.

"Fuck" he groans and Geralt drapes himself over his chest, kissing the moan from his lips.

He finds a rhythm, a careful balance that keeps them joined in both places and Jaskier has never felt such overwhelming pleasure in his life. He meets Geralt's thrusts, thrusting in deep as Geralt sinks into him and it's hardly surprising when he finds himself creeping close to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake around him and he wants to hold out, to make Geralt comes first, but Geralt reaches up, nipping at the sensitive skin over his throat and the pleasure that zips through him is too much.

His hips snap up hard and Geralt kisses him through it, deep and hard, his whole body arching against him. He follows shortly, burying himself deep in Jaskier's body and rutting into him urgently. The moans and pleas that drop from his lips do nothing to ease Jaskier's persistent erection, but as Geralt slumps against him, Jaskier feels the exhaustion creeping in.

Geralt, too, seems tired and Jaskier withdraws reluctantly, mourning the loss of Geralt's body around him. His cock remains stubbornly hard, still unsheathed, but the aching desperation wore off some time ago and he flings himself into the water, quickly rubbing himself down to prevent waking up sticky and uncomfortable. A moment later there's a splash as Geralt rolls off the ledge next to him.

He swims closer enough for Jaskier to reach him and he makes a point of wiping Geralt down first before wrapping a hand around his cock and sliding slowly. Geralt's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Jaskier's neck with a soft, shuddering moan.

"How long does this usually last?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Anywhere from a week to six."

Geralt gawks at him. "Six weeks?"

"On and off," Jaskier huffs, amused. "I don't swim around with an exposed prick for six weeks. And besides. It's usually two, though it is much more in much more... concentrated bursts."

"Meaning I should stick around?"

Jaskier's heart thuds heavily at the suggestion which is, realistically, ridiculous. He's known Geralt for all of a few hours and under normal circumstances, the man would have just killed him. But the idea of keeping him close spreads warmth through his chest.

"You don't have to," he says anyway. "You kept up your end of the deal. I'll be quiet."

"Mmm," Geralt agrees, nosing at his neck, "but it'll get bad again. What would you do with no one here to get you through it."

"Are you..." Jaskier starts, hesitant. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Maybe not exactly here," Geralt shrugs, "I'd appreciate being warm and dry part of the time. But I don't intend to go far. Maybe I'll camp out on the beach."

"Will you stay for now?" Jaskier asks hopefully.

"Yes."

Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge the way his heart clenches a little. He shouldn’t want Geralt to stay, shouldn’t care what he does with himself now that he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain, but as they finish cleaning up, he seems happy to be there.

Once they're both clean and Geralt has managed to pull another orgasm from him, they settle on the ground, Jaskier curled up around him. His cock rests perfectly against the cleft of Geralt's ass and he has to be careful not to move too much, lest he work himself up again. He spreads one wing out over Geralt, using it as well as he can to keep him warm.

“You should go back,” Geralt says quietly and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost disappointed, “leave here and find more of your kind so you don’t have to suffer alone next time.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jaskier admits, “but I like it here.”

“Mm,” Geralt hums sleepily, “guess I’ll just have to come back then, hm?”

Five years later…

The need returns, just as it always does, creeping up slowly and then hitting him all at once, but this time it's worse. This time he has the memory of his Witcher, soft and sweet touching him and kissing him and working him through it. And the memory only serves to make the need stronger.

But he made a promise.

So Jaskier holes himself up in his cave and deals with it as well as he can on his own and when that quits working on the first day, Jaskier swims to the surface in the hopes of coming across some other passer-by who might be willing to risk their life to fuck a Siren.

But when he breaches the surface of the water, there's a figure on the beach, moving oddly. He keeps low in the water, just his head breaking the surface and when he gets closer he realizes it's a man taking off his boots. It takes a couple of seconds to register as the man strips completely naked, but as he gets closer, as Jaskier swims further, he recognizes him. There's a swell of something warm and pleasant that settles in his chest and his heart beats just a fraction too quickly.

Geralt came back for him.

[raeynbowboi]

Building the Titans as a DnD Party

A typical DnD party is best off being a 5-man band, with roughly five main roles to fill: the Tank, the Blaster (ranged damage), Healer, Stealth, and DPS roles, and the Teen Titans fit this very very nicely. So, I want to approach building the team as a cohesive unit. I’ve tackled building the characters independently, but some fall into a build in relation to other characters’ builds. The challenge here is to build the team to function nicely together as a unit.

ROBIN ( Party Role: Leader, Stealth, melee combatant)

Race: Human Background: Entertainer (Acrobatics, Performance) Classes:    Mastermind Rogue (12)    Battle Master Fighter (7)    Monk (1) Stats:    (SA) STR 11 DEX 20 CON 16 INT 14 WIS 20 CHA 9    (PB) STR 11 DEX 20 CON 16 INT 12 WIS 20 CHA 10 Skills:    Acrobatics    Deception    Investigation    Perception    Performance    Stealth Fighting Style: Dueling Battle Master Maneuvers:    Disarming Attack    Feinting Attack    Maneuvering Attack    Parry    Reposte Tools: Thieves’ Tools, Tinkerer’s Tools

With Robin’s subclasses, he can study an opponent and discern their HP, Level, AC, and any stat compared to his own, allowing Robin to be an expert in deducing the weaknesses of his adversaries. He also has the ability to give himself advantage, allowing Robin to make use of Sneak Attack damage even in a one-on-one fight. Robin’s 1 level in Monk is only there for the AC, and if you feel it’s unnecessary, he can drop it for another level in Fighter and another ASI or feat. This Robin excels at infiltration and finding clues like a classic detective, and with his maneuvering attack can reposition his party around the battlefield, moving injured allies toward Raven for healing, or helping melee fighters close the gap with enemies. Robin’s other maneuvers make him adept at creating openings in his enemies’ combat, such as making mages drop their spellcasting focus. If the DM is willing to rework Commander’s Strike maneuver to not be exclusively for melee attacks, letting Robin tell his party to attack instead of him can allow party members to exploit an enemy’s weaknesses that he can’t bypass himself, which is a good quality for a leader.

STARFIRE (Party Roles: Blaster, Tank, Talker)

Race: Protector Aasimar Background: Soldier (Athletics, Intimidation) Class:    Phoenix Sorcerer (20) Stats:    (SA) STR: 14, DEX: 12, CON: 18, INT: 10, WIS: 9, CHA: 20    (PB) STR: 14, DEX: 12, CON: 18, INT: 8, WIS: 10, CHA: 20 Skills:    Arcana    Athletics    Intimidation    Persuasion Feats:    Elemental Adept (Fire) Metamagic:    Empowered Spell    Heightened Spell    Quickened Spell    Twinned Spell

Between the boys who are all mostly melee combatants and Raven who is more of a support role, Starfire is the long-range magical powerhouse whose spell list is exclusively Fire and Radiant damaging spells. While Starfire lacks the superhuman strength she really should have, I figured her alien endurance was more valuable, as it made her able to get up and keep fighting harder. While I did in earnest consider a build where she’s an aasimar Brute Fighter or Zealot Barbarian (both of which would prioritize her super strength) while reducing her starbolts to the Firebolt cantrips she’d pick up with magic initiate, when it comes to party composition, the party already has Cyborg who tends to use physical combat more often than Starfire, despite her being stronger than him, as well as Robin and Beast Boy who are also close-range fighters. The party is better aided by her making use of immense magical power.

BEAST BOY (Party Roles: Utility, Wildcard)

Race: Longtooth Shifter Background: Folk Hero (Animal Handling, Survival) Class: Circle of the Moon Druid (20) Stats:    (SA) STR: 18, DEX: 20, CON: 12, INT: 8, WIS: 13, CHA: 14    (PB) STR: 18, DEX: 20, CON: 10, INT: 8, WIS: 14, CHA: 14  Skills:    Animal Handling    Nature    Perception    Survival

This one’s pretty straightforward. We need to turn into animals, a druid is the only way to do that. If you want to channel your Beast Within, feel free to do a 16/4 split and add some Barbarian levels with the Path of the Beast, but for standard Beast Boy, focus on wildshaping into the highest CR monsters that you can.

RAVEN ( Party Roles: Healer, Magic Utility, Diplomat)

Race: Asmodeus Tiefling (Variant: Winged Bloodline Tiefling) Background: Far Traveler (Insight, Perception) Classes:    Theurgy Wizard (Knowledge Domain) (19)    Rogue (1) STATS    (SA) STR: 8, DEX: 13, CON: 16, INT: 20, WIS: 16, CHA: 10    (PB) STR: 8, DEX: 14, CON: 16, INT: 20, WIS: 16, CHA: 10 Skills:    Arcana    History    Insight    Medicine    Perception    Religion

While the single level in rogue is not mandatory, it gives Raven the ability to have Expertise in two skills, letting her super charge her Insight and Perception. As Raven is an empath who can sense people’s emotions, read people like an open book, and even sense how many people are in a city on the other side of a bay, Raven’s extrasensory powers should be extremely impressive. So despite Raven not being much of a people person, her ability to sense emotions makes her invaluable as a negotiator and lie detector for her party, as well as scouting for lost children and fugitives. With her Wizard levels, Raven can have a truly staggering amount of spells, including abjuration shields, telekinetic spells to move objects, psionic blasts, messing with the senses or emotions of other creatures, and bypassing environmental hazards. With this extensive list of abilities, Raven becomes a veritable swiss army knife of dealing with problems. Between healing, defensive, offensive, and utility spells, Raven becomes insanely adaptable. While Psychic Soul Sorcerer and Fiend Warlock could work for Raven, those are CHA casters which steps on Starfire’s toes as a Sorcerer. So, Theurgy is the best way for Raven to be a healer, and makes her an INT caster. Knowledge not only gives her extra expertise skills, but it fits her character as the wise scholar of the party. Asmodeus, the Greater Deity of the Nine Hells, has Knowledge as one of his domains, allowing Raven to pray to him while fitting her character. Arcana is another good option, as it adds to her Wizard spell list and helps her break spell effects on her party, but at the loss of her extra expertise. Life Domain can also work if you’re leaning toward White Raven and making her a dedicated healer. Making Raven a Winged Bloodline Tiefling gives her the ability to fly endlessly, a good answer for her floating in the show, but not all DMs will allow it. Her WIS score can be lower, I used 16 to super charge her Insight and Perception checks, but if concentration and health matters more, she can easily get by with a WIS score of 14 or even 12.

CYBORG (Party Roles: Tank, DPS, Blaster)

Race: Variant Human (PB: +1 CON, +1 INT) (SA: +1 STR, +1 CON) Background: Athlete (Athletics, Acrobatics) Classes:    Brute Fighter (16)    Artillerist Artificer (4) Stats:    (SA) STR: 20, DEX: 11, CON: 20, INT: 18, WIS: 8, CHA: 12    (PB) STR: 20, DEX: 10, CON: 20, INT: 18, WIS: 8, CHA: 10 Skills:    Acrobatics    Athletics    Intimidation    Investigation    Perception Fighting Style: Unarmed Combat Feats:    Heavy Armor Mastery (V. Human) (+1 STR) Items:    Molten Bronze Skin (Plate)    Force Ballista (Tiny)

Some may cry foul that Cyborg is neither a Warforged nor a 100% Artificer, but Cyborg was born Human, that is is his racial identity. And with the Molten Bronze Skin from Theros, the metal can coat Cyborg’s skin so skin-tight that it can’t be removed, like having metal skin, making it a perfect parallel to Cyborg’s lore and character. While Starfire is physically the strongest Titan, she doesn’t tend to prefer physical combat, opting mostly for ranged combat with her starbolts, opening a spot on the team for the heavy-hitting melee combatant, where Cyborg comes in clutch. Between multiple attacks per round, and being able to fire his Force Ballista every bonus action, Cyborg walks away with about the same number of attacks per turn as a full level 20 Fighter as early as level 14. As a Brute, he’ll also add to the damage he deals with each punch, making Cyborg a serious bringer of pain. If your DM hates UA though, Champion works fine for him, it just doesn’t deal as much damage.

This party composition makes the Teen Titans extremely well-balanced, as every member of the party has a primary role, but also cover a wide variety of skills, play styles, and abilities. They’re diverse enough to be able to handle most anything as a unit, and can handle just about anything thrown at them in combat. There may be some shortcomings like that many creatures resist Starfire’s Fire magic, but her Elemental Adept can help with that, and her other party members can make up for her shortcomings in such fights.

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Baileys Hot Chocolate

Dwayne x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,195

Warning: contains physical intimacy and mature language

Summary: It’s date night with Dwayne and you make sure to pack everything you may need, including some adult hot chocolate. 

You heard scratching at your bedroom window and immediately knew who it was. Speeding over and yanking up the old, heavy window, Dwayne swung into your room legs first.

“How many times do I have to remind you to use the front door?”

Your boyfriend smiled and pulled you in close, resting his forehead against yours. “It’s more fun this way, angel.”

You shook your head resignedly and gave him a peck on the lips. Once he decided something, he could be very stubborn. “Alright, Mr. Adrenaline. Have it your way. But you’re going to give my neighbors a heart attack one of these days.”

Dismissing your concerns, he merely asked, “Ready to go?”

You went back to the backpack sitting on your bed and added a few more things. The last thing you added was a smooth metal thermos full of hot chocolate in the side pouch. Zipping the pack shut, you grabbed a warm jacket and put it on.

You slid your arms through the backpack’s straps and told Dwayne you were ready.

He tested the straps to make sure they were tight enough and once he had adjusted them to his liking, he stepped back and nodded. “Ready.”

You closed the window and locked it before exiting through the front door, excited for date night. It was an especially beautiful winter night, the air crisp and cold. And the sky! It was nice and clear, perfect for what you two had planned.

Dwayne reached his bike first and placed a black and silver helmet carefully over your head which you pouted about. Despite being a daring man himself, Dwayne was all about caution when it came to you, especially when you rode with him.

He trusted his own driving; it was other reckless, people on the road that he didn’t and as a human you were much more fragile than him, or Laddie who was at least half vampire.

He stroked your chin with his thumbs as he clicked the clasp closed. “It’s unnegotiable if you want to ride,” he said quiet and sure.

You knew that he had the best intentions when it came to you, and that he was right, so you never pushed back too hard even though you were one of the only residents in Santa Carla who bothered to wear one. It would be nice to ride carefree, like the vampires, but the truth was that some things were different for you.

You draped yourself over Dwayne’s leather covered back and he started the bike, the engine sending vibrations through the seat and up your legs. The only warning you got was that he patted your thigh, then he was roaring down your street.

How the neighbors never raised a stink about the frequent rumbling of Dwayne’s bike during all hours of the night, you’d never known. Some vampire mischief might have been at play there.

Once the boardwalk was behind you, Dwayne eased up on the throttle to take a softer turn onto a wooded, dirt path. The ride was bumpier from then on out, since you were off-roading, so Dwayne kept the speed in check for the rest of the drive.

It was times like those that made you glad your boyfriend was a supernatural creature of the night. No regular human would’ve been able to drive in the dense foliage at night.

As it was, Dwayne was perfectly fine. After all, he was used to going much faster and attempting riskier moves when he drove with the other boys.

The engine petered out to a stop and he extended his long legs so he could walk the bike to a full stop. “This is it,” he softly said as you both stood up.

You spun in a circle, taking it in with awe. He brought you to a small clearing where the trees gave way to an enclosed patch of dry grass, an impressive sky overhead. Being far enough away from city limits, there were no lights to dilute how luminous the moon was or how bright the stars shone.

“I’m glad you like it. You’re the first one I thought of when I found it last week.”

You heard his voice but it was difficult to see him given that everything around was dark and shadowy to your eyes. Unzipping the backpack, the flashlight was what you took out first so you could see where you were walking. It wasn’t need for long because Dwayne thought ahead and had bonfire materials waiting so he could get a fire going.

He messed with some lighter fluid to get it to grow faster and when it was stable enough to provide light, you took a out a blanket to sit on. That way you wouldn’t have to sit directly on the grass. Dwayne took one end, you the other and you worked together to extend it. Once that was settled, you grabbed another blanket to cuddle with, as well as the thermos.

Dwayne was quick to join you and you gave up some of your blanket cloak so that you would both be covered. He wasn’t affected by cold temperatures like you were, but it allowed him to cuddle close, always a win in his view. Plus, the blanket was super soft to the touch.

Everything was peaceful and serene.

There were no loud noises or overwhelming smells out there. Nothing but the flickering glow of the flames, a gorgeous view, and two people content to hold each other in silent bliss.

Neither Dwayne nor you spoke for a long time, laying tangled together while stargazing. You were proud to say you were proficient enough to find basic constellations on your own without him having to point them out for you, although he still did so with more obscure ones. And when there were no more stars to identify, the full moon held you in thrall with its reflection.

But the spell finally broke when you shivered.

Dwayne lifted onto his elbows and petted your hair. “Cold?”

Not wanting to seem weak, you did not reply. He merely reached over to your forgotten thermos and pushed it into your hands. “Drink,” he insisted.

Well... you couldn’t say no to hot chocolate, especially when Dwayne was the one offering.

You popped the lid off and satisfyingly warm steam caressed your face. Taking a big sip, you passed it to Dwayne who took a swig. He stared at the thermos and then looked at you, like he was trying to figure something out. You were rewarded with a smile when he got it.

“You spiked it.”

“Yep,” you said emphasizing the ‘p’ with a pronounced pop. “I was in a Baileys hot chocolate mood. Besides, I don’t have to worry about driving.”

“I see. You trust me to get you back safe.”

You replied without hesitation. “Always.”

Dwayne’s dark, serious eyes locked onto you as he took another swig. Crawling over you, he eased your lips open and pushed some of the hot chocolate into your mouth.

Surprised, you moaned a little. His thumbs stroked down your neck and you couldn’t help but swallow.

He pulled back enough that lips no longer touched, but close enough that you still shared the same breath. You nodded once. Deliberate and slow. That was all the consent Dwayne needed and in the split second it took to blink, he had you splayed out on the blanket.

His lips moved intensely which contrasted nicely with the languid way he ground his hips against you. You started to heat up. Fast. Cold long forgotten. And the heat flared even higher when he started to nip at you with his fangs.

In reaction, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, causing him to growl. He knew that his fangs were a turn-on; it was only fair that you went for his kinks, too, hair pulling being one of them.

You fought to keep your eyes open and when you managed, you saw his transformed face, like you suspected that you would. Ready for more he touched and nuzzled his way down your body until he reached your pants. He sat back on his knees and expertly ripped open the top button, and removed the pants and your underwear in one quick motion.

He moved so that your legs were hanging over his shoulders, you back coming off of the ground. He squeezed your thighs in his large hands and put his mouth on the most private part of you.

His blazing eyes stared you down the entire time and you were unable to break his gaze. The rhythmic sucking had your head falling back with a muted thunk. And when his tongue glided upwards, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped.

Fangs grazed your tender flesh without ever digging in painfully or puncturing skin. It was common for Dwayne’s face to transform when he was sexually riled up, but always maintained incredible control when it came to biting. Not once in all the night you spent together did he ever make you bleed by accident. Not even a tiny nick.

A particularly sharp movement with his tongue left you dizzy in pure pleasure. Dwayne noticed your legs tightening around him and made it a point to hit that spot again. Over and over and over. To the point where you were clawing the blanket in attempt to keep yourself anchored.

It all began to be too much—his wicked mouth, his breath on your opening—and you felt yourself start to climb to its peak. When it hit your eyes snapped closed and it felt cosmic, to release like that with the whole universe seeming to loom above you and within you.

And then he sank his fangs into your flesh, at last. Being bitten was never without some pain, but when it happened on the cusp of an orgasm, the pleasure and pain mixed deliciously. He took his time drinking from you as you came back into yourself.

He eased off, gently laving at the open puncture marks. You both laid on your sides and faced each other. Your fingers ran down his stubbled cheek and he closed his eyes as he savored the touch. “You are so beautiful,” he said quietly.

His words made your heart throb, loudly enough that he probably heard it. You laid there in bliss until you realized a crucial detail that you missed earlier in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Wait,” you blurted, “Dwayne, what about you?!”

Panic flooded you and he had to stop you from getting up. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think I’d leave you hanging?” you argued.

He looked down and in the dim light from the fire you noticed he’d open his pants to let his cock out at some point and the slightest sheen glistened on his crotch.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he repeated.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice you needed, uh, assistance.”

“Seriously. Don’t worry about it. Take it as a compliment,” he suggested with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re so beautiful, all I needed was the visual.”

“Jesus, Dwayne,” you laughed hoping to hide the heat in your face. “Maybe we can plan something like this again though. That way I can return the favor.”

He remained silent but you knew him well enough to read his interest. Reaching into his pocket he removed the Soviet flag and set out cleaning you up. He took extra care cleaning the dried blood around his bite mark. When he was finished with you, he wiped himself down.

“You better wash that,” you said as he tossed it at the bike. “I mean it! And don’t tell the boys what’s on it, if they ask.”

“Honestly, they’ll figure it out on their own. Blood and sex are strong scents.”

“Just don’t confirm it for them, hmm? Especially not Laddie,” you pleaded, mortified, but knowing he was right.

In a valiant effort to distract you from the anxiety, he waved the thermos in front of your face. “The sugar in this is really good for you right now.”

You accepted it and Dwayne swaddled you in the cuddle blanket, leaving himself uncovered that time. His thoughtfulness was appreciated because the crisp air started to chill you again, more so because you weren’t wearing anything below the waist. The blanket helped though.

The comfortable silence from when you first arrived returned and the moon caught your attention. Soon, your eyes started to droop, heavy with tiredness. You tried your best to stay awake. If you fell asleep and Dwayne woke you up, you’d be cranky. It was better to just stay awake.

Dwayne nuzzled the back of your neck. “It’s okay, angel. Sleep.”

“But the ride home…”

“I can fly you home and come back for the bike later. Sleep.”

With his deep voice in your ear, you didn’t stand a chance, mind already halfway to unconsciousness. One of your last thoughts was that the night had been perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Then Dwayne pulled you in tight, littering you with small, innocent kisses, and you were lost.

_______________

My best attempt at a steamy fic featuring Dwayne in honor of Valentine’s Day.  I think Dwayne takes pride in caring for his s/o and gets off on it. And the flag made an appearance! Much love to you readers :) 

And yes, there is a bottle of Baileys in the film--check out the lower right. Whose is it? I have no clue 😂. 

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Seven: None of Your Damn Business

The world exploded in a bright blast of color and piercing sound that had him clawing for his ears. The nerves fired and radiated pain from his lower back secondary to the assault on his headspace. His skull would soon burst because of the pressure that welled up inside of the cavity—the pressure and noises from within distorting his world into blurs of shape and color. Namely, a concoction of blues, a familiar burst of color to any biotics. Moreso that it belonged to a certain biotic that he recognized by frequency alone.

Even if those biotics collided into him. Sending him ass over tea kettle and painfully into a crate behind him. Shields and barriers depleted from the head-on collision.

The scion went down, but another took its place, yanking the dazed vanguard from the ground. The cannon exploding at point-blank range into her torso. The Commander went limp, and her corpse tossed aside as the abomination lumbered forward.

Was her barrier up?

He prayed her barrier was up.

Not that his thoughts of her fate were ultimately helpful in the moment, the creature lumbered toward him. His shields tried to reactivate, and his biotics faltered, ebbing away with another painful kick to his temples. He could do nothing but scramble against the metal crate and hope it was distracted or his shields would reactivate in time.

The scion lumbered forward, he couldn't find a set of eyes to focus on. Between the bar piercing through his skull and the pain radiating from the left side of his body, he struggled to face this creature. His gun was off somewhere, knocked out of his hands on contact with a charging vanguard, and his biotics refused to budge still. The Commander's stunt wasn't so lucky this time.

The abomination shredded, bits of wiring and oddly cold flesh coating his front.

"Shepard!" Kaidan cried.

Luckily some of the incessant ringing had faded far enough that he could find Mary's body, pulling it into his lap. Clutching it tightly against him until he felt the faintest trickle of breath against his neck. It hadn't stopped a few premature tears.

"Alenko! Incoming!" Jacob screamed over his comm.

Kaidan raised a protective dome, preemptively swaying the insectoid machine that dropped from the sky. His other arm held Shepard against his chest, hoping the delayed deployment of medigel would not worsen her state. He wouldn't risk the creature descending upon them; it would spell the end for the injured party. Luckily it stuck to a smaller group somewhere behind him where he had initially come in. The other group wasn't on his list of priorities, and only Mary mattered at this moment- the shallow, almost imperceptible breaths that slipped out of her mouth.

It was almost enough to ignore the strain such a bubble put him under, especially after the duress of being slammed by a biotic train.

Something pounded against the barrier, forcing Kaidan to look up.

"Kaidan, we're clear," Garrus shook his talons, mandibles vibrating as the turian examined both of them, "she's-"

He wouldn't accept the placating notion, "alive."

Kaidan finally administered a dose of medigel, blessedly her breathing deepened, but she remained unconscious. Probably for the best. He moved to his feet, cradling the body in his arms, "Joker, we need a pickup stat!"

"Who died and made you-"

"Joker," Kaidan snapped.

"Aye, Aye Sir!"

The next interruption was a little more welcome, even if he could not salute.

"Make sure you visit the Citadel," Anderson said slowly, looking over the pair of them slowly. His pupil's narrowed, and the corner of his lip flickered downward, "humanity could use the return of a spectre. Try to keep her safe, Alenko."

"Aye, Aye Sir," Kaidan returned reflexively.

Anderson's eyebrows creased, his gaze leaving to watch the Normandy pull into view. A slow smile crawling across his features, "keep yourself safe as well. The Alliance will want their report on this."

Garrus spoke once the Councilor had moved out of view and earshot, "that could have gone a lot worse."

Kaidan eyed the turian, "yeah, I guess."

~~~

He waited patiently beside her cot, long past the time Shepard had been changed into something more breathable. But he still sat in full armour, the swelling of the left side of his body ignored in his watch. He recalled Chakwas asking, probably several times over, if he needed anything. But he refused it, refused to do little more than swipe at the dried blood beneath his nostrils.

This was a little pathetic, a little beneath him.

But he stayed. Worried.

Worried over a woman that would snarl at him for staying at her bedside.

"Kaidan," an icy voice snapped, "what the hell happened down there?"

"Coming from the woman that couldn't keep up," he huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked away from Miranda, "rich."

Miranda folded her arms, the weight of her glare heavy on the back of his head. But what could she say? Did he need to bring up the rumor that she had been stuffed into a closet? This mission had spiraled far out of control, it was only because of Anderson's fondness for Shepard that they walked out of there without irons. And that was the best-case, worst-case scenario. The Alliance would let them live, the Collectors had enigmatic plans for the kidnapped humans; he doubted it was kind.

"Look, it went bad- quickly. There's, there was nothing any of us could have done better," he sighed heavily, "intel was bad. We were caught with our pants down."

"That's not-"

"Besides, we know Shepard is particularly bullheaded," even when she's trying her damndest to hate you, Kaidan counseled.

"Fair enough," Miranda conceded, dropping an arm, "the Illusive Man wants to see you in the briefing room."

"Me?"

"You were the only Cerberus operative on the ground."

"Can't this wait?" flinching at the whine within his tone.

"Shepard won't go anywhere," she deadpanned.

Miranda would not ask twice. But Kaidan was in no hurry to answer his summons. Neither did it mean that he would take the time to change either, by the way the woman looked him up and down, he could tell how awful he looked. Standing up reminded him of how awful he felt. His balance was still off, and his head resumed a momentarily dull thumping. It would spell a migraine later. The entire left side of his body felt stiff and awkward, the soreness multiplying unpleasantly.

Eventually, he reached the briefing room, pausing before he got within range of the sensor. It wasn't his first meeting with the man, but each discussion had started and ended with the same kind of dread. Straightening his back, he stepped into the room to find the Illusive Man already awaiting him.

"Alenko, G-" the figure stopped, looking him at with a hint of disgust, "good work on Horizon. You proved to be a valuable asset."

Kaidan's arms folded, "yeah. Could have used better intel."

The Illusive Man's eyebrow raised. Taken back by the bite coming from the usually gentle biotic, but not enough to pull an honest reaction to the accusation.

"The Alliance members stationed on Horizon, how did you miss that one? They don't make a habit of sticking around in the Terminus Systems."

"I may have let it slip that Shepard was with Cerberus and that Horizon might be next," the hologram waved off casually after a drag from his cigarette.

Kaidan's eyes rolled, "so you used the human Councilor as bait?"

"I couldn't be sure he would be there personally, but it proved the Collectors are interested in anyone connected to Mary," he continued dismissively.

Rage coiled in his gut, how could he use that name so casually? After using her to lure in a Collector vessel? His assumption that Mary was a puppet seemed more accurate with each turn, "and about that... did you want her abducted? Great timing with having the shore party arrive just before the Collector attack. Did you see the ship lurking or had hoped they would show?"

"Kaidan," the inflection in the other man's voice grew dark, the butt of the cigarette flying off screen, "I wouldn't risk a several billion-dollar asset so lightly."

"You'll have to prove that one to me," Kaidan chuckled, "we got lucky. Lucky isn't going to cut it."

"Good thing I provided Shepard a team that cares so deeply about her well-being," the Illusive Man's tone caressed anger, "which frankly I worry about your attachment."

"That's none of your damn business!"

"It is my business when the two of you try and destroy my ship, and threaten the resources I have poured into defending humanity," he produced another cigarette, "I had doubts about you coming on this mission. So far collateral has remained minimal- I know the two of you are at odds. I'm only allowing you to stay because I know how much you are willing to sacrifice for her sake. Don't become a detractor from our mission, or I will personally see to it that you are removed."

Both men waited in baited silence; the hologram gave up first, "can I assume you will fall in line?"

"Yes, sir," the biotic hissed from behind his teeth.

"Dismissed."

~~~

Mary struggled to keep her back against the shuttered bay of the medical facilities, an arm pressed against a still tender torso. She had been assured the Illusive Man wasn't expecting her to stand at attention and that he expected her bedridden state. It would be a casual debrief. Casual her ass. She couldn't show him an ounce of weakness.

The Illusive Man sprung into being in the center of the medical bay, a slight smile playing across his lips, "I'm glad to see you survived the encounter with the Collector forces."

"The Reapers will have to try much harder than that to kill me," Mary smirked, "I thought they already learned that lesson."

The man returned a smirk, "they will think twice before attacking another colony. The Collectors will be more careful now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in."

"We have to make sure they don't abduct anyone else," she warned gently.

"I want the Collectors stopped for that very reason. That's why we're doing this, Shepard."

"A little by the seat of our pants, but yes."

The man's eyes narrowed, otherwise moving on as if the barb was silent, "I'm devoting all resources to finding a way through the Omega 4 relay. We have to hit them where they live. Your team will need to be strong... as will their resolve. There's no looking back."

The Illusive Man made sure he held her gaze, demanding every bit of her attention, "the same goes for you. Can I assume your past relationships will not impede our mission?"

"None of your damn business."

For the briefest of moments, he looked amused, "I was beginning to wonder when your temper would return. Here I thought Alenko would be the compliant one... if it affects the mission, better you should leave it behind. Unless you want that distraction removed."

Mary set her jaw hard, the narrowing of her pupils the one true sign of her feelings. Not that her feelings around the biotic were completely clear, to begin with. Obviously, she cared, proving that by how she rushed in blindly to save Kaidan. But in the same heartbeat, there was hesitation, a gnawing sense of betrayal to find him in league with Cerberus.

"Shepard, once you find a way through the Omega 4 relay to the Collector homeworld... there's no guarantee you'll return. To have any hope of surviving, you -and your entire team- must be fully committed to this alone."

"Let me worry about them. You just find us a way to the Collector homeworld," Mary fought a growl, her eyes moving to a noise outside the flickering image before her.

"I just want to be upfront about your odds. You''ll need everyone at their best," he threw done a spent butt, "I've forwarded three more dossiers. Keep building your team while I find a way through the relay. And be careful, Shepard. The Collectors will be watching you."

The image flickered away, leaving Mary to face the physical man in the room.

[inventors-fair]

Two guilds, one cause group commentary

Super sorry for being super super late.  Here’s the commentary about the guild colab cards.

@dumbellsndragons First of quite a lot split/aftermath cards for this contest! I was quite surprised! Beast is not much but it’s an honest spell. The real deal is Breakfast! It essentially doubles the power of your board, by splitting it to 2/2 bodies that can in turn trigger various etb effects. Temporary buffs, (bloodrush anyone?) can play a huge roll on how many tokens you can make!

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ Misjudged this one, took it for an Izzet Simic spell, while it’s actually an Izzet Gruul one that plays into the destroy to create mentality of the two guilds. While witty and creative, this spell feels a little too specific. It definitely has a fun side but I fear people would use it more as a combo piece.

@abzanhero​ Sel-gari was a very popular combination and Rotweaver is a very nice example on how those two guilds could interact. It fills the graveyard, cares about the graveyard and has the potential to make HUGE tokens for you to populate. All that in the expense of immediate impact on the board, but I asked for kitchen table EDH cards, and this fits the category very well.

@helloijustreadyourpost​ I love the throwback to popular EDH cards like Savra and the first print of Teysa that care about the color of creatures you control.  That said, I am not a fun of the limitations on the card, as I view more like a Yu-gi-oh design than an mtg card, where usually the only limitation is the cost of the card.

@bioodprice Great control card but the two triggers feel conflicted as the one taps a creature, and the other punishes the players for having untapped creatures. Either way, it has good pillowfort potential as it can hinder both voltron strategies and punish token based decks.

@dimestoretajic​ Great tempo card, would do wonders in limited enviroments. Lorewise, it’s sad to see that guilds consume their messengers. If this trend continues, Vivien will surely pay Ravnica a visit XD

@ghoulcaclulator64​ First of all, congratulations for going the extra mile and made your own artwork for the card! It’s really cool!

On to the ability of the card, its very well stated and it has great combo potential with all the copy effects of blue and red that can help you create an army of deadly blasters. I am not sure whether you wanted the trigger to work with spells any player controls or not, but all in all I find Whip-Walker an interesting design!

@kytheon4-4 Great flavor text that fits the theme of the design challenge 150%! Also a quite impactful card on a tri colored creature deck of all shapes and sizes. If mentor returns, it could definitely appear on Green creatures, or creatures of any color, like Exalted

@hypexion​ When you’re a Gorgon with a Biology major, there’s no need to stay in the undercity XD In general I like the use of ability counters, and this applies here as well. The +1/+1 counter would serve as a reminder for the deathtouch counter, though I must complain that Mila herself doesn’t have deathtouch but has to work for it like a guildless peasant.

@yourrightfulking​ For GGUURR you get two cards and at least a 2/2 body plus 2 damage wherever you want. This is an insanely good deal, and this being an instant means that you can also mess up combat big time. I wouldn’t call the card broken in any way but I feel there should be some moderation, maybe the damage affect players and planeswalkers? But that’s me nitpicking, all in all pursuit of perfection was a very nice entry for the contest.

@nine-effing-hells​ In a similar vein, from a mechanical standpoint, chorus of battle offers +4/+4 , with the additional trample and lifelink. Comparison with Titanic Ultimatum is inevitable, and it offers a lot more for an additional mana. I think here it should be safer if the play was asked to offer a single R and W to get the bonus and not the double colors which add a lot of weight to the card without clear benefit.

@misterstingyjack​ The design challenge was meant for you to design tri colored cards. There were a few color matters submissions, but this is the best “rulebreaker” and who’s a better rulebreaker than a goblin gang that pays homage to Shattergang Brothers A really cute card whose effects are relevant  in an EDH game, especially the green one. Death to the mana rocks! 

@grornt​ Great revisiting of Graft and I love the fact that with haste, the total damage you can do to the opponent doesn’t change as you pass around your counters! Interestingly, Riot and Bloodthirst also operate with +1/+1 counters so this beasty truly unites Simic and Gruul!

@hiygamer​ If there’s one thing “cannon” in this challenge, it’s that the Selesnya and the Golgari will rebuild Vitu-Ghazi! The abilities and the overall flavor of the card are super sweet, but I think we should be wary of lands with the potential to generate tons of mana. For example, as much as I love symmetry in design, the graveyard matters part of the card shouldn’t be on equal ground with the other ability as it’s easier to produce more mana with mill shenanigans.

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion This pricey enchantment is so splashy, Kiora would probably try to steal it. Good thing you considered planewalkers on the second ability, because then you would have certainly crossed the line. I don’t know what kind of deck is the true home for this card, but even one turn with this card on the battlefield will decide the course of the game.

@dabudder​ For 2WUG, you get a 5/5 flyer and you draw one card. It’s not much, in EDH at least, but it’s definitely an honest play. Again, the fate of Vitu-Ghazi is on the spotlight, and here we see the Azorius care about it! Who knew Ravnicans love Selesnya that much?

@koth-of-the-hammerpants Scavenge 6 for merely two mana is a tremendous deal. The Second activated ability takes an A for creativity and flavor, as we see the pinnacle of recycling in this combined Simic Golgari project. I feel a few balance tweaks are required here and there but the idea of a creature “reforming” itself through +1/+1 counters is damn cool.

@narkis24​ Puns and memes are always appreciated but the abilities, while interesting, they have me wondering whether this is too oppressive for your opponent. The free treasure token every now and then is pretty innocent and it may be the token of an unofficial alliance made on the kitchen table. However, the potential of multiple counterspells with little investment  seems a bit scary. I would rather it somehow required self sacrifice in the ability so people don’t gang up on you.

@thedirtside I love the name and its connection with the bouncing nature of the card. While overall this spell feels weak or requires a lot of mana, I feel there are decks out there that would appreciate the utility this card offers.

@bread-into-toast​ Selesnya and Orzhov is a wild combination from every perspective but as the flavor text suggests, all woodshapers are welcome XD

The 5 toughness guarantees that you will make a good number of tokens before this thrull enters the soil, and it might deter a couple attacks while on the battlefield because it can potentially make 10 or more tokens with a good block. An Abzan token deck will have dozens of ways to utilize this small army, and the deat trigger gives you yet another one if there are not any available at that time. All in all, a stellar design. I didn’t do a runners up post this time, but this could be easily included.

@gollumni​ A solid utility 4 drop that shines more at late game than on curve because as the challenge suggests we’re playing kitchen table edh. For the full colored cost you disable three potential blockers. I love the tiny detail that unlike other creatures in the original ravnica that cared about different colors of mana when you cast them, Enlisted Banisher represents all three colors for the sake of devotion and color matters cards, like the beloved Knight of New Alara.

@shakeszx A very unique design that encourages different tribal strategies in an attempt to unite everything under its glorious pincers during combat. I feel a deck with Gedj as a commander would be both fun and challenging to build. I suppose it would contain a lot of Slivers and Allies. If anybody makes this deck please let us know!

@wolkemesser​ A wild project uniting Gruul and Izzet. This is probably the most intricate design I’ve seen in a while, utilizing XYZ, three colors, two kinds of tokens. But what about the kitchen table? The options this card offers are insanely good, so much that I think it’s undercosted. The red ability, essentially lets you save up mana, and treasures can also help you generate mana for the other two options of the card.

And while the power level is definitely high, I have to commend you for considering when the player is allowed to do these crazy mana sink shenanigans. Having a specific time window is important and setting it on main phase 2 means that you give both yourself and you opponents time to figure things out.

@teaxch​ Excellent build around potential and I like that the optional copying trigger as you can utilize a deck with both buffs and single target removals. The spiciest thing about this card is that it has the highest cannon potential because actually Izzet and Boros collaborate to create advanced soldiers. It’s Captain Amrica all over again :P They even got the right colors

@masternexeon​ I love the irony of a card that obstructs your opponents playing cards during your turn has flash itself. It’s a real solid hate bear. The haste hating is more of a trinket text than a relevant ability, but it’s better to have a rare ability than not having it.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff I don’t know why this doesn’t have a straightforward adapt X ability, let’s move past that. Any numbers of counters are always welcome, but in this design it’s easier to get a good amount of counters early game, for example going for 4 on turn 4 is a really nice play and you can swing for 7, which will have a long and memorable impact on the kitchen table. On the other hand, if you topdeck this late game, there’s a chance you won’t be able to pay 11 for the 11 creatures you might have in the graveyard.

@davriel-canes-tea-supplier​ Another aftermath card. You surprised me there! Get down is a slightly more expensive freeze two spell, but that’s customary for dual purpose cards like this. On to business, we got a selective wrath effect. It’s more disruptive than an actual sweeper because odds are the opponent sees it coming (except if you discard it on purpose to head straight to business) Overall I feel the whole card could be a bit cheaper but I appreciate the impact it can have in the game, and it also helps me create an image of the Ravnican lobby that’s in the hands of Orzhov with the assistance of the Azorius

@reaperfromtheabyss​ Ending, with a flashy comeback of Fuse! Both halves are great cards in their own right, Body is a tad better than life’s legacy because it also gives life at the price of one black mana instead of any mana, and Soul can produce a respectable amount of flying tokens while wiping a player’s graveyard. The combined effect isn’t as explosive as other fuse spells, but the utility it offers is much appreciated. And while the card frame for fuse isn’t flavor text friendly, I really like the story it tells, about how the two guilds care about death and how they utilize it for their advantage.

[dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard]

Chapter 11, Section 1–Re_Birthday; Scene 2

master of the heavenly yard pages 237-244

Ma could sense that the wind had picked up.

Interesting, that though her body was that of a soul, she was able to feel the movement of the wind like this.

But that was because she had taken in Riliane and the other contractors.

Ma could not become a “soul” as she was now. To keep herself from being erased, she needed the help of other spirits.

And that help—the shell that protected her—was still not complete.

Over time, Ma’s spirit was steadily growing weaker.

--This deterioration had begun the moment that she gave birth to Nemesis.

This was only natural given that Ma had removed Levia, one of the pieces that she was comprised of.

And this had been accelerated by shifting Irina’s spirit into the doll…And then right before the world was destroyed, she finally lost Eve. Though she did have some reparation by receiving the “Doll Director’s” mercy.

After possessing Riliane, Ma could do nothing but sleep for a time. If she were to assert her own consciousness while in this weak shell that Riliane represented, she would use up her spirit in the blink of an eye, and disappear.

By taking advantage of all of the contractors with aptitude being assembled and taking them into herself all at once, Ma had finally gotten her hands on a solid shell, and was able to operate under her own will again.

However, it still wasn’t complete. This shell had a tiny hole in it.

Ma’s spirit was leaking from this hole, and spreading as this black vortex.

…She would need to plug the hole. To keep herself from vanishing.

For that reason, she needed Nemesis.

It was clear she needed to hurry, but all the same she couldn’t afford to act too hastily.

Whatever the case was, Ma had suffered an embarrassing defeat at Nemesis’ hands once before. She would have to avoid repeating the same mistakes.

The theater had vanished. She could no longer depend upon the mercy of the “Doll Director”.

What was more…Ma could guess that Nemesis had regained some of her previous memories.

Considering she was working along this boy before her—Allen—then at the very least it was likely that Nemesis had recovered her memories as “Elluka Clockworker”.

So then, she ought to be prepared for her to resist using magic.

…Leaving that aside.

Ma stopped thinking about Nemesis and once more focused on Allen.

--Why had he come here now? Right when she’d thought he’d been idly chatting with her, he’d raised his sword as though preparing to fight…And yet despite all that, no matter how much time passed, he never made the first strike.

She pondered what she would do if she was Elluka—the being that Ma had once shared a mind and body with.

…He may be stalling for time for her to make an inscription!

Ma quickly fired lightning at Allen again.

The poorly aimed shot was easily deflected, but that didn’t matter.

She spread her wings and prepared to fly up into the sky.

--She had to get out of here, now!          

“…I guess you’ve figured out our plan. And yet…you’re a bit too late.”

Allen cheekily smiled.

The roar of the wind grew intense.

Ma’s body floated from the ground. –But that wasn’t because she was flapping her wings.

“Come now, Lady Ma. Let’s go, shall we—on a journey to the sky.”

As Allen spoke…the two of them were sent spiraling high by a tornado.

.

  --As she was soaring high, tossed about by the wind…Allen saw something conjured up from Ma’s hand, and go tumbling down.

That’s…

As it continued to go around in an uneven pattern inside the tornado, it gradually grew closer to where Allen was.

Without thinking, he seized it.

.

As he was blown away, Allen’s body finally came to a stop in midair—and then started to steadily fall towards the ground.

An enormous flying creature raced towards him at breakneck speeds.

“Allen!”

Riding atop Eater, Nemesis stuck out her hand against the furious wind.

Allen just barely managed to grip her hand, saving himself from crashing.

“Phew…Looks like you pulled it off, Nemesis.”

“Let’s get out of range of the spell!”

The gale spell that Nemesis had unleashed was amplified by her inscriptions, and now it raged as though it were a storm.

Inside it, it was taking everything Eater had just to maintain his altitude.

Once Eater had reached a spot outside the inscription where the wind was much weaker, Allen turned around and looked at the storm.

The tornado was funneling up dirt and sand in the heart of the gale.

If all went well, Ma would be unable to get herself out from inside it.

…But Nemesis had a clouded expression on her face.

“It’s not good enough. I guess my magic really is less effective against a soul.”

“Has it failed?”

“We’ve confined her for now. But to get closer for the time being is impossible without weakening the power of the spell…Hm? What’s that?”

Nemesis noticed that Allen had a small bottle in his right hand.

“Oh, this? …I scooped it up in the tornado just now. It came out of her hand when she was caught up in the wind—”

“By her, you mean…Ma?”

“No, this…I think this is Riliane’s doing.”

The memory of the small bottle that only Allen and Riliane knew—that whenever Riliane wanted something, she would take a piece of parchment with her wish written on it, put it in a glass bottle just like this one, and then hand it to Allen.

Right now, there was a rolled-up piece of paper in the bottle that Allen held. He took it out and opened it.

“…Heh. Hahaha…”

It was a message written by Riliane. When he saw it, Allen suddenly burst into laughter.

“What’s it say?” Nemesis asked.

“What do you think it says?”

“Assuming it’s the same pattern…’Forget about me, defeat Ma!’, or something like that?”

“No, ha ha…Well, see for yourself.”

Allen held open the paper for Nemesis to see.

On it was—

.

“Make sure you save me!”

.

--Just that, written with rough letters.

“Isn’t that so like her?” Allen said, chuckling again. ”I bet she never once considered sacrificing herself to save the world.”

“…And yet, you seem happy about that, Allen.”

“Yeah. You see, it means that she believes in me.”

“Sigh…What a silly pair of siblings you are,” Nemesis sighed, stupefied.

--But then the two of them quickly grew stern.

The force of the wind was weakening. The tornado at the center was slowly getting smaller.

Nemesis hadn’t lifted the spell.

Ma…also had Elluka’s memories.

So naturally, she would also know how to undo her magic. Neither Allen nor Nemesis had thought of that.

“At this rate…Nothing else we can do. This’ll be a bit of a gamble, but we can try a kamikaze atta—”

“—Wait a second, Nemesis. ...Do you hear something?”

When Allen said that, Nemesis strained her ears.

.

“—Lu li la, lu li la.”

.

Someone was—singing.

It resounded far and wide, to where they could hear it even through the roaring wind….And yet, the melody seemed gentle…

This “Clockwork Lullaby”.

.

The two of them knew very well the person singing that song.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun rating: T+  word count: 3,015 summary: Trevor and Sypha never thought that vampires—even half vampires—could ever get sick but when Alucard succumbs to a fever during a rainstorm, they discover that there’s still much to learn about their friend. 

For @kamek 💛 Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

“You’ve been coughing for an hour.”

It hasn’t actually been an hour; or has it? It feels that way. Time flows differently when it rains as a constant, all-consuming mist. Things seem to go on for much longer than they really should. The annoyed hunter and his equally annoyed companion could have been working on their wagon’s broken wheel for as long as he just suggested, or a mere ten horrid minutes could have passed instead. Who can say in such miserable circumstances.

“You exaggerate.”

Alucard’s voice comes out not as smooth, dulcet tones but as a hoarse, ugly rasp. Rather than the words themselves, he coughs them out half-formed and pained. Trevor wishes he were in a better mood so that he could jest and say he sounds like his late grandmother whenever she smoked strong tobacco in her curved pipe. Instead they work in frustrated silence, not one inch of their bodies dry. At least Trevor does what he can to cover himself; Alucard doesn’t seem to care that his good coat and gloves with their gold embellishments are both ruined beyond repair. Nor does he notice how his long strands of hair stick against his forehead then tumble down his face like soaked rags.

A hooded figure in blue sits at the front of the wagon keeping a watchful eye on the road, though there isn’t much to be seen. Not long ago, she used to wait in anticipation for whatever creatures might mistake their caravans as an easy dinner consisting of one distressed damsel and her two manservants. A few steps closer then flames would fly, the blade of a needle sharp sword would sing, and Trevor would forgo his whip in favour of fists just for the challenge of it all.

Today she waits for the rain to stop and for the boys to stop fiddling with that damn wheel before one of them breaks a finger. They’ll survive one night with their transport incapacitated.

Sypha curls in on herself, using her robes as both dry shelter and a warm blanket; a way of giving herself momentary comfort. This personal method feels more familiar to her than the two men working tirelessly (and fruitlessly) behind her do. Most times it’s a failed effort, which is why Sypha has always preferred the company of others so that she doesn’t have to shoulder a sense, or rather, the responsibility of loneliness.

Alucard likes to be alone sometimes; Trevor is overly familiar with it as well. He grew up with loneliness like it was a childhood friend. Sypha can’t stand to be alone. It’s not in her nature nor in her blood.

Rain always makes her mind wander, often to places she would rather it stay away from. To distract herself from those sorts of thoughts, she tries listening to whatever Trevor and Alucard are saying to each other. Perhaps some of their usual banter or one upmanship they’ve become masters of. What she hears does nothing to ease her concerns. Trevor’s is the only voice she can make out clearly. Alucard barely sounds human.

“Keep… keep holding up… the wagon, you…” Every other word is interlaced with a chorus of dry coughs into his elbow. Trevor doesn’t want to know what comes after that “you” and Alucard has no energy to tell him.

“Fuck the wagon and the wheel. You need to drink something.”

“Why don’t you… give me a drink… from you…” Alucard keeps an arm over his mouth while his other hand steadies himself against the canvas covering. By drink, Trevor assumes he meant his blood, but Alucard’s worsening state already ruined any levity of his poorly executed quip. He watches how his friend sways from all sides, his head lobbing around as though it were a boulder attached to his neck. If Alucard weren’t coughing or paler than ever, he might be mistaken for a drunk.

And if Trevor were the same man he was mere months ago, he might feel some sick pleasure in seeing the sulky half-vampire prince like this—but that was then. A time he doesn’t look back upon fondly.

“Let’s get you inside.” He lets go of the wagon before it leaves any more splinters in his skin and places them on something he’d much rather hold instead.

“Let me go… we need to… fix and go…”

“You need to shut up before you run your throat raw and bloodied.” For once, Alucard is rather complacent in Trevor’s arms (he has no energy to struggle against him otherwise). Are half blooded vampires usually this warm? No, Trevor tells himself. This sort of warmth burns and hurts. As he helps Alucard into the wagon, Sypha joins them.

“What’s wrong? Did he injure himself?” Once inside, they remove their hoods and clear an area for a makeshift bed. Hay and blankets may seem beneath the Tepes prince but for Trevor and Sypha, they are luxury items.

“No. Stubborn ass just got himself sick. Probably from all that cold and rain.”

“I never thought that could happen to him of all people.” Sypha’s comment is one of both curious surprise and genuine worry.

“Well, we learn something new everyday.”

“Are we near any villages?”

“Not for miles.” Trevor isn’t even sure if he wants to leave Alucard in the care of a normal Wallachian healer. Too many risks, too many possibilities that he might leave this world the same way his mother did. “Can’t you perform a healing spell or something?”

“My magic can only manipulate elements like fire and water, not the human body.” Without thinking (and perhaps knowing), Sypha picks at the scars on her right bicep, healed by her own flames. “If I were a scholar of that kind of magic, I would be invincible and there’s no fun in that.”

“Garlic…” A weak voice interrupts. Trevor and Sypha turn their attention downwards at Alucard, eyes shut, struggling against the resistance of his own worn throat. “Get… garlic… echin… cea…”

“What was that last thing?”

“Ech… what?”

“Flower… purple petals…”

Deciphering Alucard’s request comes easier to Sypha than to Trevor. “Echinacea! It’s a flower that can be used for medicine. If we mix it with the garlic in a broth, it might help him.” Before Yrevor can come up with a cynical response regarding the lack of garlic and echinacea with the rest of their dwindling supplies, Sypha has her hood raised and a basket in hand. “I’ll go look for some in the woods.”

“Will you be alright out there?” Trevor glances through the canvas slit leading outside; the skies went dark minutes ago and the rain has picked up.

“Of course! You look after Alucard, I will be back shortly.” A quick kiss on Trevor’s cheek and a light caress across Alucard’s burning forehead before they lose Sypha to the outside world. The optimism in her eyes, the same kind that matches her tone, used to be so infectious. But Trevor is too distracted by the heavy drops of rain battering down upon their meager shelter.

--

Alucard’s breathing doesn’t occur naturally; what little air there is in his lungs forces its way out through trembling colourless lips. More strained whimpers than breaths. Like Sypha, Trevor never believed it was possible for him to be in such a weakened state he can barely lift his head. His eyes are shut tightly but he cannot sleep. Every time Trevor lowers a cloth, wiping away as much sweat as he can from his forehead and cheeks, he can feel Alucard’s unbearable warmth. It seems no amount of cold rainwater collected in a bucket will help bring him respite.

“Come on.” Trevor says, wringing out the cloth before repeating the same process, the only thing he can do for now. “You survived Dracula twice. A little cough isn’t gonna be the end of you.”

Alucard always has something to say, always some witty repartee or equally sarcastic remark. Never before has the sulky, brattish, beautiful half-vampire left Trevor in absolute silence. If it’s not through spoken words then it’s through gestures; a smile coupled with a raised middle finger that’s not to be taken seriously. Never before until now.

“You’ll be fine you dramatic bastard.”

None of this seems right, not to Trevor at least. Vampires never feel sick; they never feel anything according to the family bestiary. Only the agony of fire and consecrated steel among others. That side of Alucard’s heritage should offer him some protection against nature’s uglier natural causes. We learn something new everyday. This unwelcome discovery concerning their companion weighs heavy on Trevor’s confidence and fragile optimism. It’s not long before they’re both killed outright despite his best efforts.

“Sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. None of this is.”

On the surface, Trevor apologizes for nothing. Yet still, he knows he must acknowledge what’s underneath. Everything from the mounting frustration over that broken wheel, the worry he feels regarding Sypha’s whereabouts, and the misplaced anger that someone as strong as Alucard could succumb to something so stupidly human. Saying it all while Alucard is more delirious than a nun who has just found rapture might be cheating, but at least he can say it.

“I’m not good at this sort of thing. For as long as I can remember, I had to take care of myself and... it was always rough love with me. No one cares that you’re hurt or if you feel like shit, get up and keep moving. Probably not the best approach. To be honest, I panicked a little when Sypha told me to look after you.” Another pause and Trevor wipes his forehead again, only with more tenderness.

“I’ll do my best to treat you better than how I treated myself.”

Alucard stirs, shifting his head away from the damp cloth. Trevor backs off with the fear that he heard every single ramble he should have kept locked away in his closely guarded heart. A few strenuous groans later and he finally speaks.

“Blanket… Lisa gave me… water…”

Trevor discerns three words: blanket, Lisa, and water. He can give Alucard two of those; the third one might be harder. Scrambling from one corner of the wagon to the next, Trevor covers him with a second blanket and guides his mouth towards the opening of a leather water canteen.

“Come on, one more sip. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Sypha will be back soon and you’ll be right as rain.” They’re not lies persay, but Trevor still cannot say them with certainty. Before he has the chance to give him more, Alucard interrupts.

“Miss her… so much. No time… I never said… goodbye I never… said… thank you. For every… thing.”

Alucard’s eyes close even tighter along with his lips, as though desperate to hold something back. Something he’ll never let anyone see. Trevor places a tentative hand on his matted hair, drenched in sweat. A gesture of empathy or he knows what it feels like to never say goodbye to those gone from your life as well.

“Sleep. Just sleep.” A tall order to ask of him.

--

Sypha once read a book she found in the annals of the Belmont archive; a series of poems collected into a singular narrative originally written in Italian. She managed through the introductory cantos before pulling herself away from the temptation of distraction. There wasn’t much to remember from what little she read save for the first few lines.

Midway upon the journey of our life

I found myself within a forest dark

For the straightforward past had been lost

As Sypha continues further into the woods, basket empty and soaked down to her bones, those lyrics prode at her thoughts like devilish taunts. She’s not lost, but she must admit that her trek through mud and prickly bushes has gone on for longer than she hoped for. Not even the poor little light emanating between her index and pinky finger is enough to withstand the downpour of rain along with the darkness of night.

Another outsticking root catches Sypha’s root, causing her to stumble forward. Though it doesn’t show on her face, her mind flies into a rage. How fucking hard can it be to find some fucking common plants in the middle of the fucking forest? If Trevor or Alucard ever heard her say that, they would be shocked into silence. Yes, she can explode a vampire’s internal organs into flames but god forbid she curse as much as her two boys do.

Sypha stops to catch her breath and refocus her thoughts. Anger is good, anger helps push her forward. It’s been with her since childhood, helping her survive, but this anger is directed at nothing. All it does is exhaust her more than the rain. It won’t make her dryer, it won’t clear a path through the dense foliage, and it certainly won’t make wild garlic and echinacea flowers magically appear in her hands. Sypha has to do that herself.

The light between her fingertips begins to fade but only because Sypha’s attention is somewhere else. She looks ahead and sees the same sort of light amongst the trees, dim yet noticeable against the monsoon. They float off the ground as graceful little flames of blue and form a path where there was none before. There they stay, patient, waiting for somehow to follow.

Sypha is very much aware of these tiny creatures. They have many names ranging from fairy lights to wil-o-wisps; frivolous, unassuming names that mask their true motives. How they lure lost travelers to their death for they too are the remaining souls of those who met their ends in nature’s grasp. A bedtime story meant to warn children about walking alone in the woods, but like most Wallachian stories, it holds true.

Sypha takes her first step along their path. She may regret this in the worst way but what else is there to do. The thought of Trevor and Alucard (Alucard especially) propels her, even if she is putting her fate in the hands of dead spirits.

A few more twigs and branches scrape at her wet cheeks. One foot begins to cramp up, causing a limp in her step, and yet she follows the lights nonetheless. At least she isn’t dead yet.

Sypha won’t die; not tonight. Upon reaching the end of the pathway, she finds herself surrounded by the very things she needs so desperately. For the first time, and what might be the only time, she’s grateful for Wallachia’s creatures.

--

Dreams, memories, and hallucinations all mean the same to Alucard. They meld together until he can no longer differentiate between reality and whatever his mind conjures up. He thinks he’ll stay in this one at the moment, for it’s a happy moment this time. Where everyone called him Adrian, not yet Alucard. Warm underneath a quilted blanket made by his mother and father, sheltered by the walls of his sanctuary.

A woman with the same golden hair as his leans over him and removes a stick-like device from his mouth. She examines it with a furrowed brow before placing something soft next to his head: a hand sewn wolf doll stuffed of downy feathers with glass eyes and a leather nose. “It’s a good day to stay in bed.” The woman tells him, rubbing his hot forehead with her soft hand. She smiles; always smiling in his memories of childhood.

After tucking him in and disappearing for only a moment, she returns holding a steaming bowl. Alucard does his best to sit up while the woman guides a spoonful of soup into his mouth then another. It tastes of garlic and fresh herbs; it tastes of a home that once was and might never be again.

“I think he’s coming to…”

The scene of Alucard’s bedroom fades as his heavy eyelids force themselves open. Sounds of steady rain tapping against stretched canvas fills his ears, mingled with two faint yet recognizable voices. His lips feel warm and there’s a strong aftertaste lingering on his tongue. Was it really just a wishful dream?

Another surge of watery garlic and herbs enters through his mouth, slowly and carefully, while a rough hand helps prop his head up. Without thinking too much about it, Alucard assumes the one feeding him hot broth is Sypha and the one holding him is Trevor. His train of muddled, foggy thought suddenly changes when he realizes that Sypha has returned. She was successful and they are all together. They are all safe.

“Don’t you worry, Al. We’ve got enough garlic and flowers to last us for days.” Trevor chuckles at the nickname he will no doubt force upon Alucard in the near future. “How in the hell did you find so much anyway?”

Sypha tells a little white lie. Neither of them need to concern themselves over the possibility of dead souls roaming the very forest that surrounds their wagon. “I must have gotten lucky.”

“Who mixed the soup?” Alucard asks, his voice much clearer.

“Trevor did.”

“... I can tell.”

Trevor’s grin is wiped clean off his face along with any sense of smugness. He and Sypha switch places with her assisting Alucard and him in charge of the stew. “I hope for your sake you meant that as a compliment.”

Alucard won’t say. But he does manage a smile of his own as he’s fed a few more hearty spoonfuls. He doesn’t grimace or spit it back out; a good enough sign.

“Now sleep for god’s sake.”

Alucard thanks both of them, though it comes out as a tired mumble before his eyes close and his still pale face relaxes. Trevor and Sypha stare at him before turning towards each other, nevertheless feeling a joined sense of relief. They watch over Alucard for a while longer, huddled together for warmth, weary yet calm expressions basked in shadows caused by the one lantern they managed to hang above them. Oddly soothed by the now gentler rain.

No one dares mention the broken wheel.

[enchantedisabella]

Why Annabeth is not Hermione 2.0

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a long time, because so many people compare Annabeth Chase to Hermione Granger when they’re really nothing alike. Yes, they’re both the smart, female best friends of the main protagonists, but that doesn’t make their personalities identical. Here are my reasons why.

Annabeth has ADHD and dyslexia and is unfocused at times. Hermione has no disorders we know about and is attentive in class. I understand that Percabeth in high school is a very popular headcanon among the pjo fandom, and Annabeth is indubitably ridiculously clever, but she is NOT going to be raising her hands every second of every day in class and she definitely won’t pass every single subject without even trying. I’d be very surprised if she could stay focused for a full lesson. Honestly, I’d expect her to be labelled as even more of a ‘troubled kid’ than Percy, because Percy has spent years in mortal school while Annabeth hasn’t. It would be Annabeth, not Percy, being the one desperately trying to pay attention but the first to lose focus halfway through. Hermione, as we all know, is the exact opposite, and hates when people disrupt classes.

Hermione is a rule-follower at heart. Annabeth is not. We all remember that time when Hermione Badass Granger kept a woman in a jar for a year, right? However, we also remember the numerous times she’s threatened to report Harry and Ron for breaking the rules- mainly in the earlier books, when their friendship isn’t as developed, but she still acts scandalised whenever rule-breaking is brought up. Hermione will break the rules, because she’s a Gryffindor at heart and she will do anything to protect her friends (trap Rita Skeeter in a jar, report the Firebolt to McGonagall because it might have been cursed), but that doesn’t mean she necessarily enjoys it. Annabeth is a different story altogether. In fanon, it’s usually her who is expected to restrain Percy from doing something stupid (like Hermione and Harry’s canon friendship), but in actual pjo canon, it’s the other way around. Annabeth Chase is smart and clever but she’s also prideful, impulsive, and downright reckless, while Hermione is most definitely not. Annabeth will use any excuse to break the rules and sees no point in regulations if they don’t make any sense, and thinks that authority figures should earn her respect. Hermione basically hero-worships all authority figures unless they’re really bad (eg. Snape and Umbridge). It takes a lot for her to rebel against someone in a higher position than her, and she will willingly give teachers her respect even if they haven’t earned it yet.

Hermione is book smart. Annabeth is street smart. I’m not saying that Annabeth doesn’t like to read, because it’s clearly stated in The Lightning Thief or Sea of Monsters (I can’t remember which) that Annabeth reads so much that Percy forgot that she also had dyslexia. However, in school aus, Annabeth would probably not perform that well on tests and she would absolutely not join spelling bees and win, or have we as a fandom collectively forgotten that in SoM, Percy said that Annabeth could have spent the whole night trying to spell ‘cyclopes’ due to the fact that she kept messing up the letters? And if I hear any reasons like ‘they removed her dyslexia because it didn’t fit their fanfiction, and there’s no need to be so pressed about it’, that’s very fucking ableist, for one, and defeats the whole purpose of Rick Riordan (bless him) making the book’s protagonists have ADHD and dyslexia for his son. Also, it says a lot about fans trying to make Annabeth into Hermione 2.0 when she’s very much not, and then fooling themselves into thinking that the girls’ personalities are carbon copies of each other. Hermione is repeatedly described as the brightest witch of her age- she’s deductive, rational and calculated. She has no problem paying close attention to detail. She spurts out so much information in the books that she has been repeatedly compared to ‘swallowing the textbook’, courtesy of Ron. I can’t even imagine how much she would have to memorise to be compared to that. Annabeth would not be capable of that, nor would she even want to be. She would not see the point in memorising facts, because Annabeth Chase learns things by doing, and Hermione Granger learns things from books. In the Philosopher’s Stone, Hermione is distraught at their first flying lesson because she can’t learn it from a book first. You know who wouldn’t be? Hands-on, street smart, capable Annabeth.

Annabeth values knowledge more than Hermione does. Some of you may not understand why this is, but Annabeth is a daughter of Athena and Hermione is a Gryffindor. They have very different learning strategies and if they ever met, they’d be nothing alike and probably wouldn’t even see eye to eye. Hermione canonically scoffs at ‘books and cleverness!’ both in the movies and the books of the Philosopher’s Stone. Hermione is Sorted into Gryffindor because she values bravery over everything else- even knowledge. Annabeth has always put knowledge first. That’s not to say that Annabeth Who-Took-A-Knife-For-Percy Chase isn’t brave, but she values knowledge above else and she’s willing to fight dirty to get it (as is Hermione, but that’s beside the point). It’s understandable that Annabeth would put knowledge above bravery, because of her parentage. Hermione’s choice is also understandable, given the circumstances, and it’s noteworthy that she repeatedly chooses friendship over cleverness in the series just because she knows its importance. Just to reiterate: the girls are different people. Don’t put them as madly competing in your Hogwarts x Camp Half-Blood fanfictions. Do you honestly think Annabeth would compete with Hermione for the best grades in History of Magic, or that Hermione would ever try her hand at sword-fighting and archery? I don’t think so. This might seem like it’s contrasting my point, but Annabeth probably isn’t going to be interested in most of the lessons while they’re taking notes in a classroom without any hands-on work. She doesn’t function like that. She would do well in Charms or Transfiguration and positively shine in Quidditch, not History of Magic or Muggle Studies or Divination. She values knowledge she deems useful, and the only way for knowledge to be deemed useful by her standards is if she used what she’s learnt in practical spells and not note-taking.

Hermione has flexible moral principles. Annabeth’s are set in stone. Hermione is a very complex character. She repeatedly chastises Harry and Ron for breaking school rules on a daily basis, but it was her idea to go through with the Polyjuice Potion in CoS, her decision to keep Rita Skeeter in a jar, her decision to use a Time-Turner to get to all her classes on time. (Well, she also had to appeal to Cornelius Fudge through McGonagall, but it was her idea.) Hermione’s moral code is flexible, to say the least. She won’t break it for mundane days, but will for special occasions, and that’s because she knows that desperate times call for desperate measures. None of her moral code is written in stone. There is always a point where she justifies her behaviour by decreeing that the situation needs it. There is no line that she isn’t willing to cross depending on how bad the situation is. Hermione has a justifiable reason for breaking rules, and though she doesn’t enjoy it, like I said earlier, she will do it of her own accord if the situation calls for it. She has no point where she says to herself, ‘Okay, this is one rule that I’m not going to break no matter what.’ This girl, this brilliant, ruthless girl, is willing to cross every single line if she absolutely must, and that is why she is not at all like Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase, whose principles are set in stone. Annabeth Chase, who is prideful and stubborn and who does not compromise her values no matter what. Annabeth is not ruthless; Annabeth is not cruel. She is the embodiment of- not exactly goodness, but fairness and equality. She gives everyone what they deserve. She literally told a Sphinx off for not giving riddles that make you think, but instead asking questions that you just need a certain amount of knowledge of facts to answer. Let that sink in, because it’s the most perfect example I have. Hermione Granger would have answered them quick as a flash and moved on, because it’s an easy way out, she knows all the answers anyway, and she’d probably treat the Sphinx like an authority figure whose test she has to pass, not change. Annabeth Chase, instead, gets offended and demands riddles that make you think because she will not compromise her principles for anyone or anything, and places so much faith in her intelligence (which is why she values it so much) that even if the questions will be harder, she thinks that it’s downright insulting that they aren’t already. She takes it as an insult to her intelligence. Hermione is flexible; Annabeth is hard as stone.

Annabeth has the makings of a hero; Hermione has the makings of a villain. Sure, Hermione started SPEW and cares for the welfare of creatures and is portrayed as sensitive time and time again, but if she believes that what she is doing is right, she will use wrong methods to get to her goal. After all, when the greater good is at stake, who wouldn’t use less morally superior methods to get to it faster? What’s the murder of a few people who deserved it- maybe Bellatrix or Umbridge- when a greater number of lives can be saved? Hermione is unnervingly logical and although she is sensitive, she is not weak. She might feel pity for Sirius’s experience in Azkaban, because he’s ‘good’, in her mind, but would she feel for Bellatrix, who ‘deserved’ it? And of course Bellatrix did deserve it, but Hermione conveniently ignores that they went through the same experience because only Sirius deserves her pity, because he’s good. Hermione wouldn’t sacrifice Sirius for the greater good, but she would sacrifice Bellatrix, and Annabeth wouldn’t, because as I’ve said, Annabeth does not have a flexible moral code. Annabeth would not stand by and sacrifice Bellatrix, because she is still a person in Annabeth’s eyes, but Hermione would, because there is no line she wouldn’t cross. As long as Hermione thinks that what she’s doing is right, she would condone any action to achieve her goal. I think we all know enough about history to know that that is terrifying as fuck. Hermione, under different circumstances, could be a villain; Annabeth would be the hero and do the right thing no matter what.

These two girls are so inherently, intrinsically different that I have trouble wondering why anyone would think that they were anything alike just because they’re smart and friends with the protagonist. There are probably more points, but I’m tired and it’s a school day and I can’t think of anything more to add on. Anyway, thanks for reading this and I hope nobody makes the stupid, stupid mistake of saying that they are in any way similar after reading this, because I could honestly relate Annabeth more to Ron than I could to Hermione.

[themadchemist]

Pincushions and Poisonous Roses

This was written in response to this piece by @meepsthemiqo and it turned out waaay longer than I expected XD

Including @emetspersephone 's OC as well.

Anais had warned Fae and Persie about bothering Lahabrea again but they didn't listen, so she took matters into her own hands.

Don't mess with an Alchemist's lover again lol.

Word count: 1195

Lahabrea always caused a racket whenever he came to the alchemy department, whether it was because he was yelling or because the new recruits were going wild over seeing that "genius" up close... Yet, this time, it was completely different. Looking up at her lover, Anais' jaw dropped "What the hell happened this time?" he was covered in... Needles? And his face was as red as the mask that he removed to reveal the most pissed off look on his face that she's seen in a looong time. "Fae!" was the only word he spat out before asking her to pick the needles from his skin.

He was silent for the most part after explaining what happened and knowing him, Anais knew that it was not a good sign. "What's going on in that brilliant big brain of yours?" "Brilliant things. I'm going to make Fae regret-". It was never ended well when Lahabrea thought of taking revenge. "You already suspended her for a week and I'm pretty sure she regrets it since her dear Elidibus was hurt as well." she tried to calm her lover, even though Fae deserved some sort of punishment at this point...

"No don't even try. You convinced me to let it go last time and it only made her more annoying and wild. This time, I'm putting her in her place. I'll burn-" The Alchemist interrupted him by plucking the last and biggest needle out, causing him to wince in pain. "Please don't burn anything. Let me handle Fae, ok? I promise you'll be satisfied with the result" Anais said as she got up to fetch a potion that should help sooth the pain of the stings. "Will you make her suffer?" Lahabrea knew it was best to let her handle it, if only because he didn't want to accidentally burn his department down in the process. "Thoroughly." she rolled her eyes as she said that, he could be so childish sometimes. "Then include goobbue girl too." "Why? Persephone has nothing to do with it, right? It was Fae's doing." "Oh, please. That spiky little demon is her creation, you can smell her aether even on the bloody needles!" Anais picked one of the needles up and smelt it and Lahabrea was right, it smelled like Persie's aether... When were her friends going to learn that they shouldn't piss Lahabrea off more than he naturally was? "Fine, Persephone too. Just relax and trust me on this." she kissed his forehead before continuing her work.

_______________________

A week later, Fae and Persephone found a tiny fairy like green creature with thorns on it head and roses for hands on their desks, and both of them, being too weak for cute things, decided that it was ok to play with it instead of reporting finding an unknown creature in their offices. But who could blame them, anyone would be be enchanted with the tiny leafy creature when it fluttered its long eyelashes and danced so elegantly, jumping from their hands to their shoulders and heads, rubbing its soft roses on their cheeks and noses, to make them inhale the relaxing fragrance. Little did they know.

__________________________

Later that day, they met outside of the alchemy department when they came to see Anais about the weird symptoms they were experiencing. The sneezing, runny noses and itchy red spots on their skins, the signs of certain allergies that they were sure they didn't have.

They explained everything to the Alchemist as she pretended to check on them. She knew the exact cause and she was quite pleased with the results she saw, it was all part of her little plan.

"By the way, did you like my little gifts?" Anais asked innocently when she finished her check ups. She didn't exactly leave a note stating that they were from her but they'll know soon enough.

"Gifts?" "I didn't receive anything." Fae and Persephone replied as they tried to recall if they had received anything from Anais. "The tiny green fairies I left in your offices... The ones hiding in your robes. I can smell the aroma of their roses from here." she explained as she clapped her hands twice, prompting the creatures to come out and float back to her.

"Oh, they're yours? I didn't smell your aether in them." Fae inquired, suddenly feeling skeptic. "Oh yeah, these are my Roselias, they're still just prototypes though. But you probably didn't smell my aether because the aroma of their roses covered it. Anyway, what do you think?" Anais smiled a little too nicely as she said that.

"They're adorable! And the roses smell so lovely." Persephone said, a little too excitedly, making Anais slightly regret doing what she did to her. Maybe it was a little too cruel to exploit their weakness for cute and flowery creatures like this...

"What do they do?" Fae asked, her unease growing by the second. "They cure all sorts of allergies! But they can also inflict them if I reverse the spells. Wonderful, right?" "Then why don't you use them to cure us?" Fae had already figured it out but she wanted to make sure. "Because you need to suffer a bit more, but don't worry, it's nothing life threatening or anything and it'll go away in 2 days, or less, if Lahabrea decides that you've suffered enough, but I wouldn't count on it." Anais explained calmly as she sealed the Roselias away.

"But why?" Persie asked, sounding a little too sad for Anais' comfort. "Because you two need to pay for all that you did to Lahabrea, so consider this a lesson... And a warning. This time I was nice and merciful despite promising him to make you thoroughly suffer. Next time, it'll be more severe and it might be aimed at your beloveds. If only to give you a taste of your own medicine." She didn't really enjoy doing this, but they deserved some sort of punishment for bothering her dearest Lahabrea. He may not be the easiest person to get along with but their shenanigans went a little too far.

"Now, you're lucky I could convince him to let me handle it this time instead of subjecting you to his true wrath." which was scary and little too "fiery", and Anais didn't want her lover to get in trouble for it. "So now that we're even, I'll kindly ask you to leave him alone. You may not be so lucky if there was a next time." Anais hoped that they learned their lesson as she ushered them out of her office.

She could hear Fae and Persie call her an "Evil Witch" and "Poisonous meanie" respectively as she closed the door, but she didn't mind. They're the ones who played with fire, so it was only natural they got burned, although Anais hoped to keep the severity of these burns to a minimum.

Thankfully, Lahabrea had enough of seeing them suffer by the end of the first day and asked Anais to cure them, thus they were spared another 2 days of misery. She even gave each of them a correctly working Roselia as an apology.

[snakereign-a]

cont. / orochimaru. | @dokuhebi​

             If there were any things that Tom had learned in the past few months it was that, for one, Orochimaru truly did not belong to this world. He’d gathered as much in conversations between the two of them, where bits and pieces of their home were revealed to him through stories and details that had no equal in the world Tom lived in. It was an interesting concept, this budding knowledge of more worlds than his own, and Tom had been gently prodding at what he might find, should he get his hands on access to a means to access this place. Still, he thought to himself. All things in due time. For now, he had his own world to conquer, and that was quite the project on its own.

            The second thing Tom had learned was that once he’d earned their loyalty, they remained loyal. He’d held the key to their cage and opened it, and those jaws had been at his beck and call ever since. They’d proven a worthy subject, a useful ally, and perhaps, in some sense, a graceful companion. Smart in their own right, curious and wicked, but dependent. They needed him, and although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he’d come to need them, too. For the sheer usefulness their presence provided. They were fearsome and cunning, obedient and witty. Their company had not proven overwhelming, unlike the company of some other ( far more boorish ) figures.

            Tom returned as the sun sank behind the hills in the distance. The business he’d been attending to hadn’t required much of a fight - besides a verbal one, really. A man, some villages away, was rumored to be in possession a map that revealed one’s deepest material desires, and a road that led to it. It was burning in his breast pocket, now, as he had not dared to look at it while the man lay, lifelessly and not even cold yet in his quiet home, but he was curious as to what the map would reveal to him. All in good time, though. First, he had other matters to take care of. Promises to fulfill - that he didn’t mind keeping. 

            Sating Orochimaru’s curiosity was no problem, as their interests aligned with his own. And he did much like to boast about his capabilities, that was true. No smile matches the one on their face, but he was pleased nonetheless by their immediate attention. Yes, he basked in it - it stroked his ego. Gaze flickered from gold to the book on the desk, and this time, the smile did appear. “Very good, love.”

            It was a book that should contain the reason WHY the basilisk Salazar Slytherin had hidden in the castle had lived for so long. Although basilisks had an unusually long lifespan, they were not immortal --- yet, this one had seemed to be, having spent centuries in the cold, waterlogged depths of the Chamber of Secrets. Somehow, Salazar must have enchanted it, must have done something to the creature that would cause such unusual longevity, and if he did, Tom was determined to find out what that was. He did question why Salazar had not used this ability on himself, but then - he did not know his ancestor’s mind. He only knew his own, and his own wished to eliminate even the slightest possibility of an end to his reign, to his life.

            Still, it had to wait, for he had made a promise to Orochimaru, and he intended to keep it. The male nodded faintly as he removed his jacket, patting the breast pocket carefully to assure his prize was still in it before placing it over the back of a chair. Then he pushed up his sleeves as he seated himself on the couch, pulling a slender, pale wand from his pocket. “Very well. As you may have heard, there are three forbidden spells. Forbidden, I suppose because all that causes terror among lesser minds ends up forbidden. They never try to understand nuance. They will call it dark magic, but is it really that? Now, the first spell I will show you…” 

            The snake, conjured up by his companion, was already obedient, but Tom would make it more so as he pointed his wand at the animal and Latin rolled from his lips. “Imperio.” He made the snake dance around the table, nearly work itself into knots, lie on its back --- all the common circus tricks. “Isn’t it marvelous?” he murmured, wide-eyed. “One word and some conviction, and it does as I say. You need to want it, you see? Lesser minds fear it, because they can not do it themselves. They can not fight against its grasp, either. They’re weak.” 

            They were a creature hungry for a type of affection and he let them sate themself, curling into his side and resting their head upon his shoulder. “Magic is power,” he agreed. “Power that not everyone seems to know how to use. Not properly, at least.” There had been another thought, waiting on the tip of his tongue, but the other’s fingers, caressing along wand and hand and arm proved itself a distraction. He turned his head to look at them, breaking the spell in the process. Smiled. “Aren’t you greedy?” It was said with a certain fondness.

            “Is your own power not enough, that you seek more?” A rhetorical question, and he smiled a little wider. His bore no fangs, but there was still something deftly terrifying about it. “Of course there have been some… Muggles - those born without magic - who sought magic. Call themselves magicians and say that their cheap tricks are magic, but they are not. The occasional muggle will turn out to have magic, but it usually means they had a wizard or witch ancestor in their line. Sometimes it can skip some generations. Some may have accidentally gotten their hands on magical artifacts that might have given them some special abilities, but I would hardly call that a success.” He scoffed.

            Night sky met molten gold and did not look away. “I see no reason why I should turn you away,” he confessed, a small boon given willingly, a secret he could afford to share. He let out his breath only when they rose from beside him - eyes chasing Orochimaru across the room. In truth, Tom wasn’t much of a drinker, finding that alcohol muddied his thoughts most of the time --- but he had had two victories today, hadn’t he? That was cause to celebrate. He could afford a night without planning and preparing.

            Tapping a finger to the glass he’d been given, Tom stayed quiet for the span of a few seconds, dark eyes unreadable as they settled on the serpent. Then he rose to his feet. Closed the distance. “Have I given you cause to doubt my generosity?” Brows dipped down and he looked almost boyish as a crease appeared between them ; he stared down at Orochimaru. “Have I not given you a home, a place within my ranks…” A flicker of something sanguine in near-ebony gaze. Like blood. “And more?”

            A sharp little laugh, and then he leaned in, lips aligning ever so carefully with their ear. “There is a custom here that I will tell you about. People will clink their glasses together - rather roughly, too. It was said that, as their drinks would spill over and into the other’s glass, it would reduce the chances of the other poisoning them, you see? They didn’t trust one another much.” He pulled back, brought his glass near Orochimaru’s --- only to pull away once more, bring the glass to his lips, and take a sip. 

           “Now I’ve given you my trust, too. Am I not a generous king, love?”

[paperanddice]

Werecrocodile Medium humanoid (shapechanger), neutral evil Armor Class 12 in humanoid form, 14 (natural armor) in crocodile and hybrid for Hit Points 78 (12d8 + 24) Speed 30 ft., swim 30 ft. in crocodile or hybrid form Str 19 Dex 10 Con 15 Int 10 Wis 12 Cha 10 Skills Perception +3, Stealth +2 Damage Immunities bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks not made with silvered weapons Senses passive Perception 13 Languages Common (can't speak in crocodile form) Challenge 4 (1100 XP) Shapechanger. The werecrocodile can use its action to polymorph into a Medium crocodile-humanoid hybrid or into a Medium crocodile, or back into its true form, which is humanoid. Its statistics, other than its size and AC, are the same in each form. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying isn't transformed. It reverts to its true form if it dies. Hold Breath. The werecrocodile can hold its breath for 15 minutes. Actions Multiattack. The werecrocodile makes two attacks, only one of which can be a bite. Bite (Crocodile Or Hybrid Form Only). Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d10+4) piercing damage and the target is grappled (escape DC 14). Until this grapple ends, the target is restrained, and the werecrocodile can't bite another target. If the target is a humanoid, it must succeed on a DC 12 Constitution saving throw or be cursed with werecrocodile lycanthropy. Whip (Humanoid Or Hybrid Form Only). Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d4+4) slashing damage and the target must make a DC 14 Strength saving throw. On a failure, the target is pulled 5 feet toward the werecrocodile, or knocked prone (werecrocodile's choice).

There werecrocodile came from one of my favorite premade adventures of all time, Tears of the Crocodile God from Dungeon Magazine. An excellent maze with interesting puzzles, exciting enemies and a fun mystery to it as well, the werecrocodile was one of the minions of the high priest Nephalot that might come into conflict with the party, though they weren’t called werecrocodiles in the stat block. Interestingly, they lacked some of the standard lycanthrope features as well, such as their 4e standard regeneration that was shut down by silver. If you’d like to alternate to the standard I use for lycanthropes in my own campaigns, remove the damage immunity and give them the following abilities instead:

Regeneration. The werecrocodile regains 10 hit points at the start of its turn. if the werecrocodile takes necrotic damage, this trait doesn’t function at the start of its next turn. The werecrocodile dies only if it starts its turn with 0 hit points and doesn’t regenerate.

Vulnerability to Silver. When the werecrocodile takes bludgeoning, piercing or slashing damage from silvered weapons, its maximum hit points are reduced by an amount equal to the damage taken. The reduction lasts until the werecrocodile finishes a long rest. The werecrocodile dies if this effect reduces its maximum hit points to 0,

I personally prefer this because it allows characters and creatures without the appropriate weapons hurt the lycanthrope, but they can only slow it down. Necrotic damage I added in as an additional weakness because I really liked the idea of having that surprise available. It creates a bit more of a horror movie tension, with an unstoppable monster chasing after the party until they can figure out and exploit its weakness. Be careful using this against a party that aren’t prepared and have no way at all to kill the creature. If it becomes relevant in some way, allow the natural weapons of other lycanthropes to be treated as if they were silver, so that lycanthropes can fight and kill each other.

This version originally from the 4th Edition Dungeon Magazine 209, though werecrocodiles have appeared in earlier editions of the game as well I’m sure. If there is a monster you want to see converted to 5e, feel free to send me a message. If you like this post, now is the perfect time to back my Patreon. Until May 24th, all backers will get access to an exclusive adventure, along with 2 new monsters and 5 new spells. Limited time offer, once that time passes the adventure will be gone.

[thenightling]

Dreams to Dream: Chapter 3

Bet you thought I gave up on this, didn’t you?  Well, I wrote a bit more for a half hour today.  :-P

Chapter may be fleshed out with more detail later.

Dreams to Dream:  Chapter 3.

Disclaimer:  Sandman belongs to Neil Gaiman and DC comics.  

    3

           Darkness.   Darkness and the plunging sensation of falling.   Spiraling, spinning.   Lucien was screaming.  Matthew was fighting the powerful current with desperate and frantic flapping.  

 “MY LORD!”  With one hand Lucien was trying to hold his spectacles on.  With the other he reached out desperately for Morpheus, whom he couldn’t actually see in the maddening whirl of dark haze as he tumbled through the abyss.  Lucien felt a sudden tug on the back of his jacket.  Someone had him.   Morpheus had him in a grip much stronger than Lucien may have expected considering Morpheus’ recent signs of weakness.

Matthew let out a surprised cry as he was caught in a pale, bony grasp.    

           They were descending now, more slowly.  Gracefully.   The trio landed on a platform floating in an oddly colored void.  Around them was a vastness of a cloudy nebula that was somehow devoid of distant stars.

Morpheus released his two companions.    Lucien dusted himself off and straightened his spectacles.  He attempted to restore his usual appearance of being prim and proper.   Matthew fluttered to get a higher angle and look around the strange nothingness that surrounded them.

“My Lord, what IS this place?” Lucien asked.

“This is a place outside of known reality. A place to commune.”

“Commune with who?”  Matthew asked with a wary and cautious tone.

Morpheus chose against directly answering but instead reached out a pointed finger and started to draw in the air.  A simple symbol- a pentangle of sorts. A simple five pointed star. Where his finger touched at empty air a golden aura of light lingered behind and soon the symbol took form.  The star floated in the air as if suspended by an invisible wire.  

“What’s that?” Matthew asked as he flapped down to settle a perch on his old boss’s shoulder.  It was familiar and good, as if no time had passed between them at all, no time lost that they could have and should have shared- now on this strange adventure.   And Matthew wondered- would Morpheus go back to being dead after this?  Like really dead?  Would he be gone again, inaccessible to them?   For the first time in the entirety of his life as a raven Matthew wished he had arms to physically grab him and maybe give him a good shake to knock some sense into him.   He dreaded the end of the adventure that he knew was bound to come.

“It’s a star.”  Morpheus said simply.

“I can see that.  I mean… Why are you drawing it?”

“It is a very old sigil.”

Matthew and Lucien understood this.   Sigils were symbols of magick and power. Each of the family of Endless had a sigil. Death’s was her ankh.  Destiny’s was his great, chained book.  Desire’s sigil was a heart.  Despair’s sigil was a hooked ring.  Delirium’s was a strange splattering of rainbow color that maybe once vaguely resembled a flower.

“Whose sigil is that?” Matthew asked.      

“Mine.”

“Yours?” Matthew asked and then Matthew and Lucien exchanged looks.

Matthew attempted to broach the subject delicately as if dying and current existence had left Morpheus addled somehow.  “Uh… Your sigil is your battle helm.  Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, Matthew.  I remember. But before the helm there was another sigil.  Before I created the helm my sigil was a star.  And He knows it.  He knows I am the only one who would use it now.  He will come to me.”

 They stood in silence for several, awkward seconds.  And just before Matthew could state that nothing was happening something did happen.   A glowing vortex opened in front of them, golden in color and bright as the sun. And a figure emerged from this light, as pale as Morpheus but in a white roman toga that draped down to his feet from his midsection.  A sash, also of white, was across his shoulder. And around his neck hung a pendant of bright green emerald. It glowed with power.

“Hello Dream.”  Morpheus said without the slightest hint of recognized irony.

“Hello Morpheus.” Daniel replied in the same tone.  The tiny star-like pupil in Daniel’s eye flared and the mirror that was Morpheus gave a bitter smile as the two walked toward each other.  With Morpheus’ dark hair and dark clothes, and Daniel’s white hair and white clothes, the two seemed to be opposite halves of a yin yang moving in toward each other.   Two pieces of a puzzle finally connected and whole.   It was… weirdly beautiful to the raven but he would never say it.

There was some unspoken communication between Morpheus and Daniel, some silent communication that Lucien and Matthew could not see or hear.  It passed silently between the two as an exchange of knowledge and memory.   And when the silent exposition had ended Morpheus spoke out loud.

 “I see.” Morpheus said as most of his questions were now more or less answered.  “The girl?  Ivy?” Morpheus asked as if the question conveyed a great deal more than it seemed.

“She is safe.”  Daniel replied.  “I have her.”

Morpheus nodded.  “I underestimated your humanness.  For that I am sorry.”

Daniel shook his head.  “That which was human was burnt away long ago.  I am no more human than you.”

For a moment it looked like Morpheus was about to protest but Matthew gave a croaking caw to get their attention, his wings flapping.  “You’re both more human than you’d want to admit!  So shut up and let’s postpone the pissing contest. We’ve got The Dreaming to save!”

“Quiet, Matthew.”  Morpheus commanded.

“Don’t talk to him that way.” Daniel said.

“Yeah, you’re not the boss anymore.  Don’t talk to me that way.”

“Matthew, quiet.”  Daniel said.

 And Matthew gave them both a look.  He then turned his head toward Lucien.  “It’s like he’s in stereo.”

 Lucien wiped a tear at seeing Daniel.  He was sniffling, trying not to sob.  He was trembling from all he had recently experienced.  From the A.I. that took over the dreaming, to the digitization of the library.  To his exhaustion at trying to keep The Dreaming running without his king for a second (and somehow more trying) time.

“My lord, what are we doing to do?”

Daniel gave Lucien a warm and sad look, “There is nothing I can do.  I am-…“

Before Daniel could finish what he was saying, Morpheus was walking behind him. He seemed to be circling Daniel like a vulture encircling prey.   He placed a hand on Daniel’s back.  “This…”   His hand rested on the dream catcher tattoo, a geas spell that bound him.  “This petty hedgemagicking?   This is what has crippled you?”

“I am not crippled.”  Daniel said indignantly.

Morpheus gave a tiny, strained smile. “Am I always so-?”

Matthew interrupted “Stubborn?  Usually refusing help?  Cocky? Acting like your shit don’t stink?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘Incorrigible,’ Matthew.” Lucien said as he adjusted his spectacles, no longer quite sounding as if he was on the verge of a break down.

“Yeah, that.  Uh…You are.” Matthew answered Morpheus.

“Ah. I see.  Fascinating.”  Morpheus said with actual consideration as he rested his fingertips on the dream catcher.   He grimaced, trying to mask that the magick was hurting him.  “This… This will not do.    But Dream Catchers were never designed to prevent or stop dreams.  Only Nightmares.   And you are the master of both. Or… Are you?”  

Daniel blinked. “You know how to remove it, don’t you?”

Morpheus sighed “At great sacrifice to myself, yes…”

“How so?”

“I can pull you through it, your very essence but the darker part of you.  The part that governs Nightmares… That will be ripped from you.   It will be painful.  And you will lose much of yourself.”

“Where will that part of me go?”

“…Where it once was…”

Daniel nodded solemnly and turned to face Morpheus.   He stared at him for a very long moment and understanding the sacrifice he was making, the freedom he was giving up to save him- to save his kingdom- the balance he meant to preserve, he took Morpheus’ hand, his fingers intertwining with his.   And he breathed the words, “Thank you.”

Morpheus was briefly surprised by the sudden grasp of his hand, their fingers instinctively twisting together. Again Morpheus nodded sadly.

 The two figures, one light, one dark, were rotating in the void, and speaking, now separate from the two dream creatures.  They were away from both Matthew and Lucien.  

 “This will hurt.” One of the two similar figures said.

“I know.” confirmed the other as the light and dark figures moved in circular formations like a slow waltz.

“It will be like being born again.” Said one solemnly.

“It will be like dying again.” The other replied apologetically.

“And when it is over…” said one.  

“When it is over things will never be the same again.” Said the other.  But it was hard to tell which was speaking.  

           Matthew and Lucien were now on a platform of displaced terrafirma though Matthew did not remember leaving Morpheus’ shoulder.  He was fluttering in the air (or was it air?).  “What’s happening?  What are they doing?”

           “I… I don’t know.”  Lucien said with puzzled worry.        

          There was darkness and then a great explosion of light.   Someone was screaming.   Both were screaming.   An agonized cry, like a man dying, or a baby being born, or both.   It was deafening and heartbreaking and all around Lucien and Matthew they could feel the rush of a tremendous energy.    They knew they were witnessing something profound but they could not quite tell what it was.

             After what seemed like a small eternity it was over.  In a strange crater lay two naked beings.   A burnt dream catcher made of wire, and a wooden frame, and beads, and feathers, with Hebrew letters Matthew could not read lay on the ground.  It was as if the hideous geas of a tattoo had been ripped from Daniel’s back and made manifest into a tactile object.  But in reality Daniel had been torn through the pentacle and the tangible object was merely all that remained of it now.   It looked like someone had tried to shove a fire cracker (or a small star) through it.   The mark on Daniel’s back was gone, but the flesh of his back was raw, pink and slowly healing back to bone-white.

             Morpheus lay on the ground, curled in a fetal position as he laid been once before when summoned to the cellar of a human occultist, Roderick Burgess.  He lay there with his eyes clenched shut. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain.   Clutched in one hand was a pendant.  A brand new, glowing amulet, a jewel hanging from a chain.  Ruby?  Perhaps garnet?   A bright red new dream stone made from the torn piece of Daniel’s essence.   He could feel the power of the dreamstone passing into himself, coursing through him.   He couldn’t throw it away now.   It had been the only way to save them- to save his world.   There has to be balance.  There must be two.  Two sides to the coin.  Light, and darkness.   And he, as he had always loved his Nightmares, had accepted the darkness that could not survive the journey through the magick of the dream catcher. He placed the pendant over his head and let the stone’s weight hang against his chest.  This was somehow very familiar.  

             Oh, certainly there was a way to give it back to Daniel now.  If he thought about it for a few minutes he might have.   But sometimes things happen for a reason.  Sometimes sacrifices must be made.  And sometimes…  There must be balance.

            Lucien had somehow made it from his safe, floating shelf, to the crater on the other floating ground.   “Morpheus?” He asked.  

           Oh, poor Lucien.  He hadn’t remembered to not call him “My Lord” that whole time and now he finally had remembered to disregard the formality.  And now he was to be corrected again.

           Morpheus slowly, shakily stood up, not too modest about his current nudity. “Is that any way to address your king, Lucien?” he asked softly.  But though his voice was soft there was power there, familiar power. And Lucien felt him there, felt him and the other Dream- both in his mind.

           “Ugh.  Kings.” Groaned the other similar voice, correcting him.  

Lucien hurried over to help the white haired one to his feet.

           Matthew flew over to Morpheus. He could feel the restored connection too.  “What have you done?”

           “Isn’t it obvious, Matthew?  There needs to be balance. That Dream Catcher would have destroyed a great deal of his essence if there was no one else to claim it.   “We are now both Dream of The Endless.”

             “My Lord!”  Lucien exclaimed, while supporting the weakened, white haired Dream.

             “Yes.” Both answered, as if it was a question.

[seawatersavior]

Roma - Enchanted Tailor

If you were to count Roma in the order of who joined the SV Mercenaries first, she should of had the #1 spot. However she reluctantly takes the #3 spot. Roma met Titus when she was still part of her original clan, she was a noble with only one task, produce heirs to establish diplomatic relations. Her husband was stern, cold and distant. She lived the majority of her life hidden away in a silver pagoda, deep in the castle grounds, far from where anyone could reach her. She was banned from leaving and could only step out of her prison at night, when the guards weren't watching her. They weren't there to keep anyone out, just to keep her in. At night she would sit in her window looking over the palace walls into the dark forest that lay beyond. She would do this until one day, a pair of eyes would stare back.

Roma was a little stunned, she clearly noticed a pair of eyes, but she only saw them for an instant. After waiting and watching, she did not see them again. She would continue to watch every night, a little excitement would do her good, and so she never let her husband know. Winter was fast approaching, and as the trees began to loose their leaves Roma became discouraged. With no foliage she couldn't pretend like that creature was still there, the white snow made it clear that nothing was there. She sighed and went to close her window when she caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. She snapped to look but there was nothing. But she knew she saw it! She wanted to find it!

Roma wanted this more than anything, and without thinking jumped out on the edge of the window, while the pagoda stood higher up, there was a few ledges that protruded outwards. She shimmied closer to the edge, gripping the hem of her night gown in one hand and the wall with the other. And then she fell.

The ice beneath her feet had given out, try as she might she couldn't revert to dragon form to spread her wings. Her tears lingered in the air as she fell, was this it? Is this how she would die? Before she had the chance to scream, she felt a pair of hands wrap around her and they crashed onto an open room. She lay stunned on the floor, the air had been knocked out of her. She looked over at the person lying next to her, he was a mess of blue hair, rather thin and seemingly just as winded from the fall. The sound of foot steps rang out as the guards were alerted to the noise. Upon hearing their clamoring the boy shot up, he was young and lithe in appearance, his face covered in hair but unable to hide the secrets his right eye contained. That eye was dark. Dark lines spread on his face, all spreading from that point. She couldn't discern much more as he ran and jumped out the window into the snowy storm.

The guards burst in and found her laying there, instead of asking if she was alright they picked her up and tossed her over their shoulder. "She finally tried to escape!" they laughed heartily as they threw her back into her room. "Don't try that again little lady, the lord instructed us to kill you if you ever make the attempt to escape, consider this your last warning." She lay there on the floor, at least the floor was padded with many rugs, so she didn't hit it too hard. But she was certain she saw her curtains shift. She pushed herself up, arms weak and cold but the warmth of her room was beginning to thaw her. She had curtains, tapestries, quilts and throws scattered all through out her room. She walked over to her pile of blankets and gave it a poke.

A quiet, but started "ow!" rang out when she met something in there. She yanked off the top blanket to uncover the young man from before withing. He was covering his eye in pain, whoops.

"Ah I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as she sat down next to him and patted his back. "Are you OK? You're barely wearing anything and it was terribly cold out there."

The boy retreated into the pile and smiled, "Well these blankets of yours are pretty soft, so I hope you don't mind the company. I am in fact freezing," he reached out a hand in greeting and said, "my name is Titus, I've always wanted to meet you after seeing you peek from your tower."

Roma smiled sheepishly, "So I wasn't insane, I knew I saw something peeking through the canopy." The pleasant thought energized her and she stood. "Lets dress you up I can't have you freezing on me." She walked over to her closet and pulled out a trunk hidden within a mountain of linens. "I may be a useless trophy wife, but he can't stop me from sewing!"

The boy shimmied over in what can only be called a blanket burrito. When she opened the trunk a little gasp escaped his lips. "Did you make these?" There was an assortment of apparel of varying sizes and shapes, for children, for adults, for something remarkably tiny. She pulled out some varying pieces and pulled him aside. "Lets get to dressing!"

Time passed like this, Titus would come and visit her pagoda, Roma would dress him up, and he would hide whenever anyone would come for Roma. But it would seem that his presence would not go unnoticed.

Roma's guards came today strangely more polite than usual, Titus had taken his usual hiding spot in a pile of plush sheets and pillows. He could see through a small gap between the pillows, but he could not be seen. As Roma stood by the door she quickly dropped to her knees in a bow. "My Lord, how kind of you to visit this humble wife." She lifted her head with a smile on her face, "How may I be of service to you today?"

A tall figure entered the room, his presence making the air suffocating. "Where is he."

Roma was too good at playing her part, "Forgive me my Lord, but whatever do you mean. The familiar you provided for me has long withered away.

"Bull Shit." With a snap of his fingers the guards began tearing apart the room. They had no mercy, and used their swords to pierce each pile of downy material into scraps.

Roma scampered to her feet and pulled at the mans robe, "Stop! Stop! Why are you ruining my room!?" She was roughly pushed back onto the ground before she could inquire further, but she didn't need to.

The Lord stomped on her hands and pulled at her hair, "Tell me where he is or who he is or I will break these sinful hands of yours! How dare you frolic with another while I provide you everything!" He pressed down hard as she screamed in agony. "There is no one! My Lord there is no one but my thoughts to spend time with me!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, but these seemed to enrage him further as he puller harder. "My Lord I assure you, please, do not destroy the only happiness I have."

"Then how dare you defy me! There was no trace of magical prowess on you before, but now here you are before me, exuding magical essence to anger me!" He removed his foot from her hand and let her head drop to the ground when he released her hair. He grasped her bruised hand squeezed, the pain was intense, but Roma could only focus on the cyan aura radiating from her hands. Magic.

She wasn't supposed to have any, in order to keep her obedient, her powers should've been sealed as a child. She had never been able to use them, so how could she even understand when her magic began to surface? She couldn't control it.

"ANSWER ME!" he yelled as his boot rushed towards her face, but it never made contact. Dark tendrils wrapped around his leg holding it back. They glanced back to find the source and found that none of the guards were moving. Their eyes were dark, a malicious mana poured from their orifices as they began to hit the ground.

The Lord quickly took his sword and sliced through the dark tendrils, and watched as they retreated into a pile of pillows.

"What sort of monster have you been rolling around with?" the man exclaimed, but he couldn’t speak for long as a blast of water magic shot at him the pile. Titus emerged then, his markings spreading more and more, reaching out as if trying to find something to hold onto.

Suddenly Roma remembered what he had told her once, he wasn't entirely dragon, and it took a lot of his energy to keep his malice sealed in. In the midst of the chaos she had almost forgotten she had been trying to help him! And now he was trying to save her with the very magic he tried so hard to contain. She scurried over to her storage chest and began to dig while trying to avoid being blasted with magic. She had hidden something in there, something she was certain would help him! Finally her fingers felt the cool smooth surface she was looking for and pulled it out. Her eyes went wide when she finally saw its condition, the sealing mask her mother had worn and handed down, it had broken in half! She wasn't certain it would still work, but she had to try! She held the mask in one hand and looked at her other, she needed to try and use her magic! Sure enough a few sparks danced on her fingertips and she glanced at the two fighting behind her. The Lord was a light dragon , his attacks blast of light mana there was no "residue" to his spells, but Titus's water spells left puddles everywhere, that was her chance! Magic can't be so hard right? She just needs to unleash a strong concentrated surge, that should be enough.

"Titus!" she yelled, "Catch!" She threw the broken mask at him while grabbing onto the Lord's arm. Sure enough Titus was quick to catch the mask, and Roma did the only thing she could think of, she released a surge of magic from her hands, the lightning quickly took its form and coursed through the water on the ground. Titus jumped back as far as he could, avoiding the potent wave that could surely take him out. The Lord however, was being tightly gripped by Roma, his eyes white as the current ran through his body, the pain numbing his body and mind. As Roma stopped her haphazard spell she let the Lord fall, she herself had suffered no repercussions from the spell, physically at least. Mentally she was drained, her mana having been almost entirely released from her body. She staggered over to the window and stepped over any puddle, just in case. "We uh, need to go." And once again, she fell.Barely conscious she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her as she passed out.

When Roma awoke she was in a humble bed in a cramped room. A soft warm light came in through the windows lighting up the area. She was alone it seemed, but a plate of fruit was on the nightstand and a jug of water was there as well. She tried to stand, but her nerves were extremely sensitive, so she stayed in bed eating fruit. Night came and the door opened, waking her up from her sleep. She knew that blue hair all too well and she sat up as Titus walked in and closed the door behind him. From here Titus explained that she had been out for a few weeks, and he had taken her to a distant territory where he hoped her husband would not find her. She had depleted so much magic her body had gone into a state of shock it seems. In those weeks Titus had discovered that the mask did indeed work for him, but it had taken a lot of damage when she fell and he dropped it trying to catch her. But he came with good news! He was putting a small clan together in the hopes of trying to accomplish his goals of being a strong leader. While his current line up was currently seeking a good base of operations, he had returned to her every night to feed her his own mana. Due to her sleeping in she was now technically the third to agree to travel with him. What a shame, after all she would have been #1 had she been awake!

[lealina-scarsdale]

The Unexpected Scout (The Hobbit OC Story)

Chapter 01 - A quest?

Yawning, a young woman sat upon a rock, enjoying the soft rays of sunlight tickling her pale skin. Then she started playing a little with the tips of her pure white hair that she had skillfully tied up into one single long braid, which rested onto her right shoulder. In doing so, her ruby eyes wandered over the wide open fields of wilderness that lied in front of her, admiring their beauty.

Well, it would be a wonderful sight, if it wouldn't be for the disgusting bodies of dead orcs and wargs, scattered all over the ground a few meters away from her stony seat. She sighed at that. It wasn't like she could blame anyone else besides herself for that. After all, it was all her work.

The slaughtered bodies with some of them missing a few of their body parts like heads, legs, arms, et cetera, et cetera, everything had been her own doing. But she didn't feel any sense of guilt. It had been them after all who had attacked her in the first place.

Seemingly they were some scouts in search for something or someone. The young woman let go of her braid and turned up her keen nose at the abominable smell of the corpses that excruciated her. These creatures already stank like hell when they were alive. Who could have guessed that they were able to cap that by being dead?

Well, it was already time for her to move on anyway. After stretching herself pleasurably, she hopped down from her rock and adjusted the belt of the sword on her back, making sure that it wouldn't become loose during the continuation of her journey.

As she was busy doing that, her also keen ears suddenly twitched. They looked far from humanly. More like the ones of a wild wolf and had the same light color as her hair. There was a noise of someone nearing themselves from behind her.

The woman wasn't sure if it was a friend or foe, so she kept silent and continued to check on her stuff, not wanting alarm anyone in case if she had to defend herself against them and potentially slaying them down as well just as she had done with the orcs and their wargs.

The sound of snapping branches under a pair of feet became clearer and louder with every second. She still remained calm, taking deep, inconspicuous breaths, anytime ready to unsheathe her sword. Her pure white tail, that also showed a wolfish trade and was attached to her butt, was on the verge of swaying nervously, nearly giving away her tautness.

But fortunately, the self-control over her own body didn't let her down and that made her smirk in satisfaction. All these years of mental and physical training truly paid off.

As the moves suddenly came to an end, the young woman was sure that the person was standing right behind her, only a few meters distant.

She sniffed and perked up her ears a little as she held her breath for a few seconds. It helped her to identify the figure behind her without looking at them directly. As far she could tell it was a man. An old one, but still going strong. And judging from the peaceful aura he was giving off to his surroundings he didn't come to harm her.

She also noticed that there must be magic flowing through his veins, but she couldn't tell how strong it was. Either he was trying to conceal it or he wasn't that powerful after all. It must be a wizard.

She had heard some stories about them. And in everyone, they were highly praised as wise, kindhearted, and protectors of the weak and old ones. However, as nice as that all sounded, it didn't mean that she should lower her guard until she knew this person's intentions of approaching her in the first place - wizard or not.

"May I help you? Or do you want to take root and stare holes into me, Master Wizard?", she asked, not able to suppress her curiosity any longer, and turned around.

In front of her was a man, dressed in a grey cowl and a broad-brimmed hat on top of his head, a trademark to notice that he must be a wizard indeed. He had a long beard, also colored grey, and a wooden staff in one of his hands that mostly looked like to be used more like a walking pole than for casting spells.

The old man gave her a soothing smile as she looked at him skeptically. "Great ears, remarkable olfaction, and a keen sense of auras . . . The tales of the rhenuw wur speak the truth indeed.", he said, his lips still curled upwards.

The young woman raised an eyebrow at his words. He knew what she was and even named it in Wuraurh, the secret language of her kind. There weren't many people out there in Middle Earth who were capable of that. "You know about us. And you actually managed to pronounce it in our language. I'm impressed!"

Her posture relaxed and she crossed her arms as her lips slowly formed into a grin. Now, this guy had really captured her attention. "I give you credit for that. Who are you? And what do want from me? I highly doubt that some wandering wizard would just stop to address a female in the wilderness, especially after talking to her in a few words of her native tongue."

"Oh, forgive me. Where are my manners?", the wizard said and bowed at her as he started to introduce himself. "I'm Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. I heard about a young woman with wolfish features and pure bright hair from some townfolks. And that she's traveling through Middle-Earth all by herself, despite the current growing numbers of orcs."

He looked at the lifeless bodies of the creatures on the ground he had just named and couldn't help but chuckle. "But I see that they are no match for her fighting skills. The perfect requirement for our quest!" "A quest?", she asked and cocked her head. The events were getting more and more mysterious with every spoken word.

Gandalf noticed her looking at him with prying eyes, which pleased him. "Let me enlighten you.", he said and sat down onto the rock she had sat just a few minutes ago. The wolfish woman took a few steps closer to him but only to a certain degree.

He may not seem to be a threat to her, but you could never be careful enough around strangers – especially since nearly everything in Middle Earth could be deadly. First, she wanted to know more about this quest he had talked about and why he thought that she would be needed for it. Then she will decide if she would trust him or not.

The grey wizard took out a wooden pipe from his cowl and lightened it by using his own finger like a match. After he took the first few pulls of it in silence, he then finally began to tell her about his intentions.

He had talked a disregarded dwarven king into a journey to reclaim their long-lost home. Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, lying far behind over the Misty Mountains. Once known as the great kingdom of the dwarfish race, filled with gold and other precious jewels.

And that had exactly been the reason for its downfall. The piles of treasure had attracted a dragon, and everyone knew how much these giant saurians loved shiny objects. It had already been predestined to be taken over by one of them one day.

After that, the dwarves had been homeless but hadn't wanted to give up on hope. They had wanted to win back the lands of Moria from the orcs but had failed and it had cost them the loss of their former king, Thror, son of Dain, son of Nain.

As his son, Thrain, had taken upon the journey to get their ardently loved mountain back a 100years ago, he had gone missing, most people assuming that he must be dead as well.

And now his own son, Thorin Oakenshield, was assigned with this quest from Gandalf. Since he was the next in the royal line, it was his destiny to go onto that mission. His right to own the mountain and its treasures, sit onto that throne, and rule his kin as it should be.

And therefore he needed assistance. It was certain that no one could rival a monstrous fire-breathing lizard on their own. Furthermore, the trip was going to be a long and exhausting one – not to forget absolutely dangerous. One wrong decision could mean the end of life.

"And that is where you will play your part.", the wizard said, blowing the smoke of his pipe away as he nodded towards the female. "Every good group has a scout among them to explore the environment, find the safest path, and warning the others from approaching enemies. With your skills, it should be easy for you to perform this duty."

She took her chin between her thumb and the knuckle of her index and lowered her gaze a little as she thought about this story. It would be a lie to say that this proposal wasn't piquing her interest.

When the dwarf kingdom had fallen, the news had rapidly spread over whole Middle Earth. Even the most isolated towns had gotten to know about it. It also had been impossible for her tribe to not to hear about the disaster.

Marching through the lands with the goal of reclaiming a long lost kingdom . . . It was really tempting, despite the possible killing encounters that were lying up ahead.

Moreover, she felt really sorry for the dwarves. No one should be robbed of their rightful home. She could understand them completely. Her heart could feel their sorrow already.

And as foolish and suicidal it may sound, deep inside of her was a voice that told her to help them. Every fiber of her body was tingling with excitement and approval.

Besides, it wasn't like she had anything better to do. She was traveling the continent without a specific destination anyway. It would be a nice change to have a purpose and some company along the way.

Looking up again right at Gandalf, who had given her time for consideration, she nodded. "Very well. You have my aid. It will be my pleasure to be at help for you."

Happy about her decision, he smiled at her as he finished smoking his pipe and hid it in his clothes again – after the ashes had gone out and had removed from inside, of course.

Using his staff to get back onto his feet again, he dusted himself off as he spoke with delight: "I'm glad to hear that. And it will be a pleasure for me as well, Miss-" Just then, all of sudden, he became silent and looked at her embarrassed. He just realized that he had seriously forgotten to ask for her name.

Here he had been speaking about a big adventure, describing the whole situation as detailed as possible, and didn't even know to whom he was actually talking to. Fortunately, the female almost immediately figured out the reason behind his abrupt hush.

She let out a small laugh and introduced herself with a bow as well: "Gwen. Just call me Gwen. At your service, Master Gandalf." After that, she raised her torso again and smiled at him. "I'm looking forward to this quest. And I hope I'll be able to become a valuable part of the company."

"Believe me, my dear Gwen. You already are.", he said, smiling along with her.

//A FEW WEEKS LATER//

The soft, pleasant night breeze tickled Gwen's skin as she walked up the hills of Hobbiton. She admired the quaint, open landscape that appeared so peaceful and carefree.

There were lanterns burning in front of the small houses, illuminating the small road that led all up to the hills. In the distance, she could hear the hobbits laughing and chattering with each other. It must come from the little tavern from the other side the small lake. Apart from that, she heard the crickets chirring and saw fireflies dancing in front of her nose.

She had heard some stories about this small town of halflings but had never actually been there herself, and she had nearly been all over Middle Earth – at some places even twice or more often already. But she had to admit to her shame that she never had come here only once. She should keep in mind to visit this place anew as soon as the opportunity arose again.

Anyway, as pretty as this town was, right now she should concentrate on finding the agreed meeting point Gandalf had spoken of when he had recruited her. He had said that he would mark the door of the chosen house of the hobbit he also wanted to attend the adventure. And here she was, wandering up the hills, and looking at every single door for a little magical sign.

As she noticed that she slowly started to reach the top, and with that the end of the road, she already thought that she had missed it, but these thoughts were proofed wrong when her wolf ears picked up some loud noises of singing, hurtling dishes, and laughing. It really sounded just like a group of dwarves as they were messing up a poor hobbit's house.

Smiling and shaking her head, Gwen followed the sounds until she arrived at the last house on the hill. At the front door, she spotted a small, blue glowing rune. Now she was absolutely sure that she had found the right place.

She noticed that the commotion from inside had died down and was replaced by muttering and serious talk, all of them male voices only – not that she would have expected another female among them in addition to her.

Knocking at the door, everything inside became silent, probably wondering who might be outside. Then she heard the familiar voice of the wizard. He was chuckling and telling the others that the last member had finally been able to reach the town as well.

Someone was cursing under their breath because of that. Gwen guessed it was most likely the hobbit. Then there were footsteps and soon after the round door opened for her.

A pair of eyes looked at her dumbfounded from below. Judging from the small figure and big, hairy feet it must be the owner of the house – the hobbit in person.

To ease up the tension the atmosphere bore, she showed him a gentle smile. "I'm really sorry for the bother and my late arrival. I'm Gwen. At your service." She bowed at the still confused hobbit in front of her, who wasn't able to say one single word.

He just stared at her. Looked like he really hadn't expected a woman to show up in front of his doorstep. But before the situation could get any more awkward for him, the calm voice of the wizard sounded from behind him. "Gwen, my dear. It is good to see you again. I hope your trip here flew smoothly."

Happy to see him as well, she laughed softly: "It's good to see you too, Gandalf. I hope you guys didn't have to wait too long for me." He shook his head and urged her inside, ignoring the still bewildered host. "Not at all, my friend. The leader himself just appeared a few minutes ago. Now come on, let's go meet the others."

A little excited about that, she took off her coat and left it together with her weapons on one of the cabinets in the hallway right beside the door. She followed Gandalf through the house to the dining room, the hobbit following close behind them, who was still overstrained with the current events that were happening around him.

As they reached their destination, Gwen saw a big table in the middle of the room with 13 dwarves sitting around it. They were squeezed together because of the lack of space this room offered. They all looked as surprised as the Hobbit before when they saw her enter with their wizard. Dead silence. No one dared to say a word. They all just stared doubtfully.

Grunting at their rude behavior, Gandalf took the liberty and introduced her to them as their future scout. Looks were exchanged between the dwarves, then they shared their thoughts about it with each other – all at the same time of course.

It was hard to make out what they all were talking about due to the jumble of their voices. Even Gwen was able to catch up only a few phrases.

"A lass among us? This journey gets better and better.", a young dwarf with blond hair and braided mustache uttered and nudged another dwarf with dark hair beside him, who nodded in agreement. He also seemed young and had only stubbles on his face, which was really unlike for his kin. Both stared at her, their eyes sparkling with curiosity and interest.

A bald, rough looking dwarf just snorted: "That's not going to work. She will be dead before we even reach Bree." He eyed her with a raised eyebrow, clearly not thinking much of her.

"She is pretty . . .", another dwarf on the right side at the end of the table whispered sheepishly, appearing to be even younger as well like the other two from the beginning. He looked at her with big eyes, fascinated by her form, especially her eyes, ears, tail, and hair seemed to be the things which he took the greatest interest in.

The grey-haired dwarf right beside him looked a little taken aback, while another one with brown and complex braided hair just laughed at this shy behavior, shooting him some knowing glances.

All in all, there were mixed opinions. Not that Gwen had expected anything else. She sighed at their reactions and crossed her arms as she waited for them to calm down again. That was the moment when she noticed someone examining her very strictly.

Her eyes traveled over the table until they landed onto one specific dwarf right in front of her, who was giving her a stare. Magnificent blue eyes were peering at her dazzling rubies.

His black beard was a lot shorter compared to the others and his also black hair was long and wavy with one braid on each side, dangling over his collarbones. Only a few grey strands revealed his advanced age.

Gwen sensed the superior aura that was enveloping him. He must be the leader of this whole project – Thorin Oakenshield, rightful heir of the throne of Erebor. There were a lot of stories about him, but Gwen had never thought that she would ever be able to meet him in person. She had to admit, it was an honor for her.

But he also didn't look really stoked about this whole thing. After a long time of gazing and quietness, he finally tore his eyes away from her and turned to Gandalf. "What is the meaning of this? Why do you think a woman could be useful? She looks like she would break her bones as soon as she stumbles over a rock or a root.", he stated, referring at her delicate figure.

Gwen looked at him silently, showing no huffy reaction because of that. She was used to treatments like this. No one ever took her seriously and doubted her skills until she proved them wrong. Getting easily upset about it was something she already stopped a long time ago.

Instead, she always looked forward to seeing the shocked and unbelievingly facial expressions she earned as soon as they had gotten to see her fighting.

Oh, how much she was going to love to see that on this dwarf's face as well. She smirked at her own thoughts and peered at Gandalf, who was surprised that she didn't seem offended by the harsh words.

Then he turned to Thorin, smiling benignly at him for his statement. "I advise you not to underestimate her. Miss Gwen travels through Middle Earth for a long time already, and all by herself. She has been at far more places than all of you had ever been in total, so she potentially knows a few more paths which are not marked on a map. And if she would really be so frail as you think, then she would have never been able to reach Hobbiton in one piece. After all, the last time I saw her was very close to the northern mountain range of the Misty Mountains."

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Chapter 02 >>

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