#like i had the idea of him possessing a wolf rather than d's left hand and so d's just got this demon wolf who travels around with him

[emptymasks]

why does my tav look suspiciously like d from vampire hunter d? um... well i um well i. you see. it's called being incredibly picky and sensitive about character creation and not being able to make a tav in game that is a comfortable representation of yourself, and d's out there being peak gender goals and already looking like me so you just use him as your own self-insert and whoops now you ship them haha. i've commandeered d for my own nefarious purposes and no one can stop me.

also yes i chose to make d a little shorter than astarion. i can't actually find a canonical height for him in the books, he's just described as looking like a young man, so for my own headcannon (and because i'm not very tall) he's like 5'8.

i have thoughts about them under the cut

no but d's closed off emotionally but does experience emotions. and he's used to no one being accepting of half-vampires. astarion mistakes him for an elf at first, only realising he's not when he tries to bite him. getting worried and then calming down once he learns d isn't a full vampire. astarion continuing to flirt with him catches him off guard, he's not unused to people finding him beautiful but he isn't used to people being this interested, especially after learning he's a dhapmir. the feeling of not being accepted amongst vampires nor humans/elves is something they share. being on board with killing cazador, perhaps was already on a mission to kill him anyway. d is incredibly touch-starved. sometimes he doesn't want to be touched, needs quiet time, tries to show astarion it's okay to not want to be touched.

he turns down astarions suggestions of bedding him for the longest time as it is not something he indulges in… but perhaps… just this once… the few times people have tried to seduce him they've been vampires, so this, this is different, he feels as though he can trust astarion with this, with himself, and if the worst comes he knows he's stronger than astarion and can fend him off. but the more time passes, the more of himself he lets astarion see, the more they let each other see of themselves, d starts to share slivers of his past, he wants astarion to know he understands, and it… it's nice to have someone who doesn't judge him, not for what he is, but also not for what he's done. and the falling happens. and he's terrified. but so is astarion. and astarion is right that this… this feels nice. and he doesn't want to be selfish and let himself be with someone, have it interfere with his drive but he wants. and he fears that astarion will fear him, he has to confess what happens if he were to feed on a person, he urges that take hold of him, the vampire that rages inside of him. but astarion thinks, and says d can't let this full vampire that lurks control him.

and when they find cazador he convinces astarion not to ascend, that someone has to break the hold these vampires have, someone has to end the cycle of abuse and power. he could have killed cazador himself, but this is astarion's moment, and he's almost testing him, seeing if astarion is different from every vampire he's met. different from almost every vampire he's met. he thinks of meier, of his ability to find and feel love. and astarion resists, and he cries, and he kills cazador. and if he's willing, when he's more recovered, once the worms are out of their minds, they'll both become braver, both become able to voice things that they feel. and perhaps astarion will say he's proven himself a worthy ally, has he not? perhaps, since it's hard for d to give up hunting, well… perhaps they could hunt together.

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (01)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn't want an Alpha; you didn't need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

AO3 Link      Masterlist   

You can't do it anymore.

You collapse on the ground as you turn a corner, legs giving up on you. Whatever breath you have left leaves your lungs as you hit the floor with a hard 'thud'.

You can hear them behind you, running and howling like a pack of wolves on a hunt.

You happen to be the prey.

You had been careful until now; walking mostly at night, making sure no one was around when you went scavenging for food, keeping distance from others during games, masking your natural scent with all sorts of perfumes. Just avoiding people altogether. 

You had no idea how you got there, but you knew that, as an unclaimed Omega, you would be more at risk than anyone else. Alphas were rare, but if one happened to find you, you couldn’t imagine it ending well for you. Even Betas were a risk, as most could also distinguish you from a regular Beta.

And here you are, proving yourself right. Running from him.

You had been careless. You were tired, always on edge, always hiding. So you ate your portion of stale cornflakes after another sleepless night and headed out from your hiding spot. Completely forgetting about masking your scent. 

Your visa was almost over. You needed to find a new game. And so you did.

You are regretting that now.

A loud laugh from not that far behind you gives you the encouragement you need to stand up and run. Just run. If he catches you, you're done for. If he catches you, you're his.

You can smell him. That strong, masculine, unrecognizable Alpha scent. His is so strong that it almost overwhelmed you when it first hit your nostrils, back at the game.

Six of Spades. That was the game you had gotten yourself into; kill the predator or be killed by the predator. In a zoo. 

How fitting, you had thought to yourself as you climbed a tree to escape an actual wolf. You had seen at least four different species of predators. All animals that you were completely unprepared to defend yourself against, never mind killing. Your hunting knife could only do so much. Fortunately for you, wolves couldn't climb trees.

But tigers could.

You had felt the big cat's eyes on you before you could even see him. All you had managed to do was let out a gasp and close your eyes as the huge orange beast pounced in your direction.

Gunshots. A heavy body falling to the ground. A wolf whimpering; that might have been you.

And then it hit you; that overwhelming, strong, musky scent.

You had opened your eyes and, no more than twenty meters from you stood a tall man, dressed in black. Eyes locked on you. You felt a shiver run down your back, and the hairs on the back of your neck rose; you weren't sure if in fear or something else.

The tiger was dead. The wolf had run away. But there was a new predator. And he was looking straight at you.

An Alpha.

You had no doubt about it. Betas didn’t smell anything like that, but Alphas...Alphas were made to lure you in. To let you know who they were. Alphas and Omegas were biologically connected. It was almost impossible to fight the urge to possess and be possessed.

And you no doubt had the same effect on him.

You noticed when he took some steps towards you and then stopped. You saw how his eyes had sparkled, his body language shifting to that of a predator. You hadn’t dared to move, waiting for his next move. You doubted he was going to shoot you, but the man did have a gun. Before the stranger could give another step, a lion had appeared right behind him, taking his focus from you and allowing you to escape.

That’s how you got into the position you are in right now; running from the man with the sniper rifle. You had managed to keep yourself hidden until the end of the game, but he had somehow found your scent and was tracking you down, together with his crew.

You stop again, taking labored breaths as you hide yourself the best you can in an alley. If life taught you anything about Alphas, is that they don’t give up until they get what they want. You would know; you managed to be unclaimed through all these years out of sheer spite for your biology, and determination. And a lot of pepper spray. 

You try to think of a plan, a way to get them to lose track, but you can’t think of anything. If he got your scent, he will find you eventually. That doesn’t mean that you will just get on all fours and wait for him to take you. If it depends on you he can hunt you till he’s dead. You won’t be some Alpha’s bitch.

You hear footsteps getting louder, together with the voices of the people pursuing you. You can smell him, getting closer and closer. You have to act fast. You spot a ladder on the side of a building and try to get it down, climbing on top of some trashcans for easier access. He won’t be able to track you as easily if you go up. The ladder is rusty and doesn’t budge, even when you desperately pull it with everything you got. With a last angry pull, the ladder finally releases, and you start climbing as fast as your tired legs allow you.

“Gotcha!” exclaims an excited male voice as you feel a hand grab your calf. Your heart almost stops. “Niragi, over here!”

You glance down at the man grabbing you before kicking him right in the face with your free foot. The man falls back, holding his now bleeding nose in his hands, and you take that moment to continue climbing. You want the most distance from that Niragi guy as you can.

You don’t look back even when you feel someone climbing after you. You have to keep going. It's only four stories high. You’re almost at the top.

A loud gunshot. Pain sparks in your leg and you scream, almost releasing your grip on the ladder.

“You fucking idiot, who told you to shoot her?!” a voice growls, followed by another gunshot. “I want her alive and unharmed! Whoever touches her dies!”

You dare to glance down, and you see the body of the man you had kicked just moments prior, now with a bullet hole in his forehead. Then you lock eyes with him; your predator.

He's looking at you with fire in his eyes; like he wants to eat you alive. Your body feels his glare more than your mind ever could, and a warm sensation pools at your center. You can't look away.

He can smell it; of course he can. You're now much closer than at the zoo, and you can see his face clearly. How pretty he is. How his nostrils flare and his eyes go dark; scenting you. You’re glad that at least you’re not in heat; it would have been game over for you before the game even started. 

"You know I'm gonna get you, right?" he says with a malicious grin, voice low.  "I'm gonna catch you, and I'm gonna make you mine."

His words bring you back to reality, and you take the last steps up into the roof, ignoring the laugh of the man below you.

"Run little wolf, run!"

You pull yourself up and run as fast as you can. You're pretty sure the bullet only grazed the skin, so you ignore the pain in your leg as you jump to the next building. You are lucky houses here are all so close to each other. You keep running, not daring to look back.

You can hear him running behind you, catching up to you, and your eyes start tearing up. Your lungs feel like fire and your legs are cramping; you can't go on for much longer. You prepare to jump when a hand grabs you by the wrist. His touch feels like electricity against your skin. You both gasp and his grip soften. The sensation is so surprisingly new that you lose your balance and trip, falling. For a second, you wonder if this is how you die; falling from a building while in that hellish place.

The next you’re wondering how can someone smell so unbelievably good. 

He smells like spices; it’s delicious. You are pressed firmly against his chest, his arms around your waist. You’re sniffing his shirt before you can control yourself. Never in your life had an Alpha’s scent been so strong and so alluring. You want to lick him; to feel his skin against your lips and his taste on your tongue. You feel his face on your hair like he’s burning your scent in his memory. You let out a needy whimper when one of his hands slid up your body to grab a boob, squeezing the soft globe in his large palm. His hands feel so good on you. Warm and big and pleasurable

“I said I was going to catch you, little wolf,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath making a chill go down your body. His tongue licks a long strip of your neck and you let out a moan. He chuckles. “Now you’re mine.”

No.

Those words make you gasp like you have been burned, and you push him away from you. You belong to no one. And it will stay that way; you rather be dead than be bonded to some random man. 

“D-Don’t touch me,” you say, a slight tremble in your voice. “Stay away from me.”

His eyes darken and you gulp, looking around. You’re trapped; no way you’re able to run more. But you can fight; you have your hunting knife, while he seems to have let go of the sniper he was carrying earlier. You still have a chance.

“Now, why the fuck would I do that?” he asks with a lopsided smirk. “I can smell how much you want me. How much you need an Alpha to fill you up and mark you.” he gives a step in your direction; waiting.

Waiting for you to fight back.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint. You reach for the knife strapped to your hip, but...it’s not there. You freeze, eyes wide.

“Looking for this?” he chuckles in your direction, your knife in hand. He’s taunting you; playing games. You take a deep breath and lock eyes with him. How did you not feel him steal your weapon? You can feel your anger building up. You’re tired, you’re hungry...you’re furious.

“Give it back!” you command, fists closed, “And I don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off!”

The smile on his face falls, substituted by a scowl. You can feel the anger radiating from him. That only makes you angrier; he has no right in feeling that way. You’re the one about to be taken against your will. You jump and try to grab the knife, but he’s faster than you, trapping you against his chest. 

His skin touching yours makes a wave of heat spread through your core once again, but this time you ignore it as best as you can. You feel him press himself against your backside; hard and warm. Your mind fogs and you release the grip you have on his forearm.

Maybe you could...just for a moment. Your wolf mind keeps screaming at you to accept what you were born to do; be a baby-making factory to some random man with high testosterone levels and ego issues.

The back of your head hits his face with a loud crack; you hope that was his nose breaking. You crouch to grab your knife, now on the floor, but he’s on top of you before you can even touch the handle. You both fall on the hard roof, struggling to get a hold of the damn knife first.

“Stop!” he has you pinned down on the cement, one hand holding your wrists down. You’re trapped; now without a chance of escaping. His other hand has your knife, now pressed to your throat. His eyes burn like coals and half of his face is covered in blood. You feel a little pride at the sight, even if the blood has stopped falling due to his Alpha healing. He presses the blade against your skin. “What the fuck are you trying to do?” there’s a hint of confusion in his question. “Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” You reply, struggling against his grip. The blade on your neck nibs your skin and you stop. “Do it. Kill me.” You know he will never hurt you to that degree. He was biologically programmed to protect you; he has to be fighting every instinct in his body to even be able to hold that knife against your neck. You notice how his hands are slightly trembling. “I dare you. Slit my throat; it’s the only way I’m leaving this roof with you.”

His eyes go wide for a second before he lets out a sudden laugh. He buries his face against your neck, and you feel the sticky blood get on your skin. You don’t dare to move or take more than a shallow breath; you’re too scared of losing control of yourself again. He continues laughing against your neck, and you have to control the urge to moan at the proximity.

“I knew you would be fun when you just kept running, but this-?” he presses himself against you, firm and warm. You shudder; you can feel your control slipping away. “Refusing me even when I’m this close? Touching you?” his tongue is on your pulse. “Kissing you?” 

“Please stop-”

“-Biting you?” his teeth graze the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. You cry out, instinctively pushing against him, neck at his disposal. The marking spot; if he bites you there while knotting in you, you’re bonded. Your wolf is screaming at you to let go and let him take you. You need him. You want him.

The wolf is out.

Your legs are around his waist before you can control yourself. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and you can feel the wetness growing in between your legs. You grind your core against his crotch, groaning in displeasure at the lack of skin contact. His lips take yours in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing against yours as he kisses you senseless. He lets go of your wrists to handle your body, one hand on your breast as the other slithers down to your shorts.

You whine when his fingers finally manage to reach your throbbing cunt. He smiles in the kiss as he starts playing with your clit. You moan and your hands fly to his hair, pulling on the soft strands; you want more of him. He bites your lip and you pull his face further against yours. He chuckles when his fingers enter you without warning, swallowing your cries with a kiss. You move your hips against his hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“More,” you whine against his lips. “Please- Alpha, please.” 

He doesn’t answer. His hand leaves your pussy with a wet sound, and you cry at the void he left with only his fingers. He doesn’t break the kiss as he gets rid of your shorts, throwing them somewhere. Your panties soon follow, and you moan when the cold air hits your swollen clit. His fingers go back to your pussy, now playing with the slickness that sticks to your thighs, spreading it up and down your slit. His lips move to your neck, where he sucks the skin right above your pulse. You whine and he chuckles, teeth nibbling your skin.

The hand on your pussy rises, fingers glistening with your slick. His eyes glint when he sticks his tongue out, licking his fingers clean of you. You gasp at the sight. He moans like it’s the best thing he has ever tasted. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he says, lust-filled gaze locked on you. “So beautiful.” You blush at the praise, wanting more. You want whatever he has to offer you. His fingers go back to fucking your wet entrance, and you feel your eyes filling with tears; you want more, more, more.

“Alpha, I need you-” 

“Now this is more like an Omega,” you can hear his belt as he fumbles with his pants. You open your legs wider; hoping. “All wet and ready for me to take.”

You scream when he slides inside you, thick cock replacing long fingers. The feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. The Betas you fucked during your exasperating heats can’t compare. Nothing can. You feel so full. So deliciously filled to the brim. You never felt pleasure like this.

You moan as he roughly thrusts into you, moving your hips in time with his shoves. His cock touches all the right spots, and he feels even deeper every time he penetrates you. You can feel the pain as the cement floor grazes against your back and bottom, but that doesn’t matter; you have something more important to focus on right now.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunts against your mouth. You clench around him at the praise and he moans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, do that again- oh shit yes! Good girl. So good, all ready to be filled to the brim with my cum.”

“Yes, yes, I- I want you.”

“Say my name, Omega,” his tongue starts licking your neck. “Niragi,” he gives a particularly hard thrust, and you yelp. “Say it!”

“Ni-Niragi!” You feel the name on your tongue. You’ll say that name until your throat turns raw. “Niragi, fuck me harder,” you beg. “Knot in me- please, please.” He does as you say, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You arch your back as his cock abuses your g-spot with every shove. You see stars behind your eyelids; if you knew how this felt earlier, you would’ve let him take you right there at the zoo where he saved you. 

Niragi, Niragi, Niragi. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“It’s such a shame you’re not in heat,” he grunts with a hard slap to your ass. You shudder and slid your hand in between your bodies, wanting to touch more of his skin. “I would love to knot and mark you right here.” He practically rips your t-shirt in a rush to take it off, exposing your hard nipples to the cold air. He buries his head in between your breasts, latching onto a nipple like a starved man.” Fill you up till I was sure you’re pregnant with my pups,” he continues with a lick to your nipple. You moan and clench around him again. “Make sure that everyone knows who your Alpha is, who you belong to. And I will. This is a promise”

Yes, yes, yes. You want that. All of it. All of him.

You can feel your orgasm growing, pulling at your core like it’s about to explode. He feels it too, and the hand previously pinching your nipple goes to press on your clit, taking you closer to the edge. You can feel how close he is too, thrusts getting sporadic and breath getting heavier. You stare at his face, actually looking at him; his eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a moan. You notice the glint of the piercing on his tongue, as you do the ones on his face. You take in the detail of his pretty nose, the shape of his eyes, his plush lips. Half of his face is still dirty with blood. He’s beautiful.

You feel a weird emotion go through you; something your rational brain knows is strictly biological, not real. But the wolf one is howling in happiness, absolutely delighted. You pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, wondering if he feels the same. Part of you is scared he does; the other is terrified he doesn’t.

“Come for me, Omega,” he moans against your lips. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. You lay there as it flows over you in waves, legs shaking and mouth open in a silent scream of euphoria. It’s like fireworks inside you, consuming you. You wonder if you lost your consciousness when you feel him come inside you, filling you with his cum. You had never let anyone come in you before. But, as the warm sensation spreads inside you, you realize you love it. You want more. You feel like you will die if he doesn’t do it again.

Most of his weight is on top of you as you both regain your breath. He’s still inside, and part of you doesn’t want him to ever leave. But your wolf had what she wanted, so you’re able to regain full control of your mind again, fog dissipating to be replaced by shame and anger. How could you have been so weak? Now it would be almost impossible for you to escape; you weren’t bonded ('yet', your wolf happily adds) but now you had a connection. If bonding was like a marriage, what you had done definitely counted as engagement.

He feels when your body tenses up, raising his head from your chest. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, waiting for your next move. 

“Was it that bad?” he asks after a moment. With a sigh, he kisses your breast before raising himself on his hands, one on each side of your head. He looks you straight in the eye for a beat, before sliding off of you with a hiss. You moan at the loss, especially when he stands up; you feel so cold without his warm body on you.

You don’t answer; he doesn’t look like he expects you to. Sitting up, you wince as you feel every pain your body has been ignoring until now. Part of your back and backside are covered in scratches from the cement floor; your cunt burns like it’s on fire, but now for a completely different reason, and your chest and neck are covered in fresh hickeys and small bites. Part of you feels like dying of shame, while the other is overwhelmed with joy by finally being marked by an Alpha. An uncomfortable feeling sits in the pit of your stomach.

You look around for your clothes, being surprised by your Alpha, no, Niragi, extending them in your direction. You take them with a mumbled 'thanks', doing your best not to wince as you get dressed. You feel his eyes on you, so you pretend he’s not there. You gather the courage to finally stand up, and his hands are supporting you before you can make a move.

His skin on yours feels again like a spark of electricity; only that now is familiar and, dare you say, wanted. You keep your eyes down as you stand up on wobbly legs, trying to ignore everything about him. But you can’t; not really. His scent is on your skin and hair; his cum is inside you and on your inner thighs. Even his blood is on your skin. 

After a moment of hesitation, you pick your knife from the floor; he doesn’t stop you. You feel like crying; this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You’re just trying to do your best to survive while being completely alone. And now this. 

A sob erupts from you with such strength that you feel him jump next to you. You hide your face in your hands as you sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face. Your mind is a mess, everything hurts and you’re so, so tired. You miss home, you miss your family, you miss your bed. You need a nap.

“Oh fuck, did I hurt you?” you hear the slight panic in his voice as he gets closer. “Tell me, what did I do?”

You shake your head and take several steps back; you need as much distance from him as possible. You turn to leave, a still defiant part of you daring him to stop you. As you expect, he’s on you before you can take more than a couple of steps.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” his tone is angry and confused. “You’re coming with me.”

“N-no.” you manage to say, sobbing. “I’m not go-going with you anywhere.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he grabs your hands, forcing them down so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine down, don’t you feel it in you?”

“We- we are not bonded,” you remind him. Remind yourself, “I- I can still leave.”

His eyes wide in an incredulous expression, like your words are the stupidest, most ludicrous thing he has ever heard. “Are you out of your mind?” he asks in a raised tone, “Do you actually think I’m gonna let you go?

“We don’t know each other!” you scream in his face. “I never- I never wanted this to happen,” your last words are barely audible as you keep crying. “We’re just two strangers forced together by something beyond our control.” 

You whimper when you feel him hesitantly touch your shoulder, before pulling you against his chest. You mumble a 'no' in-between crying gasps and lightly struggle against his grip; you have to get away from him. He ignores you, one arm going around your waist while the other awkwardly pats your head. You finally give up when you feel his lips on your temple, whispering something you can’t quite understand. Whatever he’s doing, it calms you down. 

You stay in his arms for some time. You hate how much you enjoy it; how safe he makes you feel. He killed one of his own, for goodness sake. You know nothing about him.

“Let me tell you something,” he says against your forehead. “I am not...a good person. I’ve done a lot of bad shit, and I will keep doing so. But if you come with me, I promise I will keep you safe.”

“I-.”

“Be mine,” he says. It sounds like a command until he adds a 'please', almost as an afterthought. “I don’t understand why you keep fighting, but I know you want me, even if part of you doesn’t know it yet.”

You let out a loud sigh; you’re tired of fighting with yourself. You review your options; go willingly or go by force. If you know one thing is that he won’t let you go. Quite possibly never. If you’re honest with yourself, a part of you doesn’t want him to. You don’t even know which one of you is talking; the human or the beast? Does it even make a difference?

You don’t think it does. Not anymore.

You raise your head to lock eyes with him. You can see hope in his gaze, but you also see determination and desire. You’re his now. And he’s yours.

“Okay,” you finally say. His eyes spark with something akin to satisfaction. “I’ll go with you. But I have some rules.”

He smirks, teeth spotted with blood, and you wonder for a moment if you made the right choice. “Sure,” he says. As long as you’re mine.” 

Next Chapter

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Werewolf Creature!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Embers by shiftylinguini Rated:  Explicit Words:  41216 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, First Time, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Omega Harry Potter, Werewolves, Heat Companion Harry Potter, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Masturbation, Knotting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Marking, Scent Kink, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, sexual negotiation, H/D Career Fair 2017 Summary:  Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Heart Like Neon by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) Rated:  Explicit Words:  41103 Tags: Sex Work, Sex worker Harry Potter, Rentboys, rentboy Harry potter, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform, past Draco/Theo, Harry/OMC - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Switching, Transphobia, Tattoos, hung harry, POV Alternating, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Comeplay, Watersports, Duelling, Facials Summary:  Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Not minds, not Legilimens, but their whole self, and he can give them what they don’t even know they want. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself. Harry can’t help but want to break into him, to figure him out. And Draco, thinking he’ll fuck Potter on a lark, has no idea what he’s in for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  99714 Tags: Dubious Consent, werewolf instincts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, child trafficking, Brief Claustrophobia, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past minor character death, Past Child Death, Bigotry & Prejudice, prejudice against werewolves, internalized prejudice, Murder, Stabbing, Poison, Hallucinations, Creature Fic, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, Masturbation, wanking, werewolf attack, Aural Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Biting, Marking, Claiming, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Edging, Secrets, Lies, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Loyalty, Loyalty Bond, Bonding, Angst, Domestic, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, Self-Acceptance, Emotional Growth, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Auror Brutality, H/D Erised 2019, Comeplay, Wall Sex, sex without lube, Identity Porn, Secret Identity Summary:  What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 Rated:  Explicit Words:  25786 Tags: Rating: NC17, Fanart, Creature Fic Summary:  Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Finding A Place To Call Home by marysiak Rated:  Explicit Words:  54747 Tags: Alternate Universe, Creature Fic, Werewolves, Post-Hogwarts, Rough Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Summary:  Feeling directionless after the war, Harry is unexpectedly torn out of his own universe and thrust into another, where he must hide out with Remus Lupin, Teddy and Draco Malfoy as Severus Snape and Hermione try to find a way to send him home and save both his and his unwitting doppelganger's lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 as much a light as a flame by p1013 Rated:  Explicit Words:  6303 Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Mating Rituals, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Knotting, Scent Kink, Mating Bond, Outdoor Sex, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Art, Claiming, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again. His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Burning the Ground by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks Rated:  Explicit Words:  10256 Tags: A/B/O-ish dynamic, Were-Creatures, Knotting, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Bondage, Blow Jobs, sex on the floor, Rimming, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Mildly Dubious Consent Summary:  "Strap him down," someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him -- the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists . . . He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman's voice sigh, "Someone, get Healer Malfoy." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Omega's Binding by Madriddler Rated:  Explicit Words:  49405 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Alpha/Omega, Omega Harry, Werewolves, Knotting, Fluff and Angst, Anal Fingering, Size Kink, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Watersports, No Horcruxes Summary:  After a violent encounter, Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf. An Omega Werewolf, to be exact. Now dealing with heats and the ability to get pregnant, Harry must learn to live with his new forms and life, while a desire for revenge fuels him. Will he be able to resist his heat and vengeance? Or will he fall into an instinctual lust, and look for his Alpha? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Light More Beautiful by firethesound Rated:  Explicit Words:  81255 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Dubious Consent, Potions Accident, Post-Hogwarts, Aurors, Returning Home, Owls, Drinking, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Masturbation in Shower, Knotting, Rimming, Falling In Love, Case Fic, Loss of Virginity, Acronyms, Motorcycles, Christmas, Quidditch, Pining Summary:  Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Run With Me by dragontara Rated:  Mature Words:  16738 Tags: Animagus, Creature Fic, Werewolf Draco, Animagus Harry, Bottom Draco, Bonding, Knotting, snarky Draco Summary:  Draco and Harry meet in the Forbidden Forest in their wolf forms falling fast and hard and eventually bonding with each other. Unfortunately bonding in their animal forms doesn't mean they are happily bonded straight away in a real life too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by VeelaWings Rated:  Mature Words:  1073 Tags: Pre-Slash, Screenplay/Script Format, Conversations, Veela Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Harry Potter, Guidance Counselors, in therapy, Depression, Self-Hatred, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Morbid Humor, Inappropriate Behavior from a Professional, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Blood Moon Rising by noelleification Rated:  Mature Words:  38322 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Wolfstar is canon, Sirius Black Lives, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Adoption, Slowburn Adoption, Drarry might happen at some point, idk - Freeform, Remus and Sirius adopt draco, Remus and Sirius as dads, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, So much angst, seriously get ready for angst, Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Potter but it's ridiculously gay, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Disaster Draco Malfoy, Trans Hermione Granger, Because we don't support TERFS in this household, Yearning, Sirius and Remus are in love but it doesn't mean they're smart enough to know it yet, so get ready for them to pine for awhile, uhhhhhh just have tissues ready I guess, I'm gonna try my hardest to make you cry, You're gonna suffer..., But you're gonna be... happy about it?, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, traumatized Draco, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Tonks is best girl, Tonks as lesbian wine aunt, Tonks has big sister vibes, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks Never Happened, Everyone is LGBT, because fuck jk rowling, Found Family, Whump, this shit hurted, Parental Remus Lupin, Parental Sirius Black, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, this shit gets dark yall, just be prepared Summary:  Draco Malfoy is cursed. Ever since Fenrir Greyback ripped him to shreds, Draco has transformed into a monster every month on the full moon. The change is painful, and living with Lucius Malfoy might be worse. But Draco is strong. He doesn’t need anyone, especially not Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin might be the only person in the world who understands what Draco is going through—but he has enough on his plate, between the still-raging wizarding war, the publicized nature of his status as a werewolf, and his best friend, Sirius Black, who Remus might think of in a more-than-friendly way. He certainly can’t take in a seventeen-year-old Death Eater—can he? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Howling Good Time by FleetofShippyShips Rated:  Explicit Words:  5819 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Full Moon, werewolf/human sex, Transformed Werewolf/Human Sex, Knotting, Consent Given Prior, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Morning After, Aftercare (delayed?), Scent Kink, Fluff, (hahaha both literal and emotional), Don't copy to another site, Come Scent Kink (i.e. some post-sex bum sniffing) Summary:  They’d talked about this, and Draco had agreed that he would try it for Harry, once Harry had convinced him he was utterly serious and not fucking with him. The timing, however, was entirely up to Harry, and he'd decided tonight, this full moon, was the night. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Am I a werewolf? by a_reader_and_writer Rated:  General Words:  1230 Tags: Werewolves, Curses, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Boyfriends, Fluff and Crack Summary:  Draco is hit by the werewolf curse. The healers send him home and tell Harry and him to watch the symptoms. Of course this isn't as easy as it sounds with our drama queen Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

[iloveyou3thousand]

Request where peter doms Wolf! Tony with slapping, spanking, pegging and orgasm control.

I combined this one with the request up here ^ I hope that’s okay! I love bottom Tony dearly we all deserve more of him :’)

CW: ABO dynamics with D/s undertones, Alpha!Peter and Omega!Tony, first time, knotting, orgasm control, spanking, dubcon for lack of explicit consent, rimming

—————————————————————————————

Peter had always known that Tony liked his scent. He never seemed to actively hide that fact so Peter had noticed it before. It was subtle, and never addressed, but Peter secretly prided himself in the fact that he had caught the attention of a man who, although he’d had many sexual partners in the past, always claimed that no Alpha had ever really made a genuine impression on him before.

He liked catching Tony take a deep breath when they stood close, or tilt his head toward Peter when they were hunched together over another project, or lick his lips like he could taste him if he tried hard enough.

It drove Peter wild sometimes – seeing it all but feeling like there was nothing he could do to act on the way it made him feel. It was never his place to do anything about it. Surely if Tony actually wanted him, he would have done something by now. Right?

Wrong.

Peter had just gotten back from a trip into town to do some Spider-Manning when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent in the hallway.

Considering that Peter’s section of the building was never used or visited by anyone other than him or maybe his friends, even just smelling anyone other than himself on his way over was odd.

For as far as he knew, nobody ever set foot in his quarters.

Peter frowned when he quietly entered his room and saw that the bathroom door into his en suite was ajar and the lights inside were on.

“Mr. Stark?” He called, taking a deep breath of the sweet scent growing stronger and stronger the closer he got to the open door.

He could have sworn he heard Tony curse under his breath. Peter opened the door and there he was, standing in his bathroom. He promptly dropped something out of his hands, and Peter’s eyes followed as it fell into a small heap at Tony’s feet.

Was that…one of his t-shirts?

Tony flailed for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands. They crossed over his chest for a second, before settling instead on his hips.

“Hi Pete,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t growing red and wasn’t standing in Peter’s bathroom and hadn’t just been holding a shirt that Peter knew he’d tossed into the dirty laundry hamper the night before.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked sweetly, trying to pretend that finding Tony here didn’t make him want to do all kinds of things, and trying to force down the words threatening to bubble up in his throat. He could feel them on the back of his tongue.

“Uh huh,” Tony hummed. Peter could smell the nerves mixed in with little remnants of what he could only guess had to be arousal on him. Tony was never nervous. But god, it smelled so good on him like that. If Peter could only bottle that up and smell it every day…

Peter took a curious step forward and reached down to pick up the shirt, and he could sense that change in Tony immediately. It only made him want to do things that he might regret more than ever before.

What he absolutely couldn’t help was the way his voice dropped when he held the shirt up, bundled up in his hand.

“Then what is this?”

Tony let out a sudden, shuddery breath. Clearly he’d been holding it, and now he deflated with it as it came rushing out of him. “C’mon, Pete,” he mumbled, “You know what it is.”

“What were you planning on doing with this?”

“Nothing!” Tony protested, holding his hands up, palms out, almost pleadingly, “Absolutely nothing. Definitely nothing potentially violating or sacrilegious.”

Peter knew that Tony was trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but he was having too much fun to let him get away with this unscathed. He had Tony right where he wanted him to be. If Tony was going out of his way to have something with his scent on while Peter himself wasn’t around, it had to mean something.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Peter murmured with a teasing little shadow of a smile on his lips. He dropped the shirt to the edge of the tub and took another step closer, watching how Tony tensed up just a touch. “If you wanted something that smelled like me you could have just asked, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed a fraction, suspicious. “Yeah? What would you have given me if I’d asked, then?”

Peter shrugged. “Me?”

Tony huffed softly through his nose, though when Peter reached up and brushed his fingertips feather-lightly over the slightly swollen scent gland just below the man’s pulse point, he immediately went quiet as a result. Peter could hear it in the silence of the bathroom when the older man swallowed.

Peter grew a bit bolder when Tony didn’t move to pull away. He cupped the side of Tony’s neck, palm covering the sensitive gland and thumb tucking behind Tony’s ear. Like that, Peter could pull Tony a little bit closer so that, when Tony once again refused to pull back, he saw the opportunity to brush the very tip of his nose up the other side of Tony’s neck, and he took it.

Tony’s breath hitching as a result was the most wonderful sound that Peter had ever heard. He’d never thought of himself as a particularly possessive Alpha, but a sound like that could change his mind instantly. It ran like a pleasant tingle down his spine until it settled low in his belly, kindling a heat that he couldn’t deny nor resist.

And then the smell that filled his nostrils with every breath. Usually subtly sweet but sometimes thicker or more fragrant and far more delicious when Tony was in a particular mood.

Right now, he smelled so syrupy that it made Peter’s teeth ache with the urge to taste.

He pressed a soft kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw and soaked up the sound he made.

There was no doubt left in Peter’s mind that this was exactly what Tony wanted. If anything, Tony’s soft whine of protest when Peter pulled back to look at him again was more than enough proof.

“Alpha…”

Tony had never sounded so utterly wrecked before, and they hadn’t even gotten started yet. Peter automatically tightened his grip on Tony’s neck, something possessive in him flaring up, instincts responding to the subtle sign of submission.

“Coming into my room uninvited, rummaging through my laundry… I think I know exactly what to do with you.” One corner of Peter’s mouth quirked, and he started backing up. Tony followed automatically, floating after Peter. So obedient, so pliant. Peter had no trouble pushing him back onto his bed, among the unmade sheets, loving the sight of him there. If there was one place in his personal space that he wanted to smell like Tony, it was his bedsheets.

Peter couldn’t wait to go to sleep that night surrounded by Tony’s scent. He imagined waking up hard, yet satisfied.

What would be even better was if he’d actually get to wake up to Tony. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

“Take off your clothes,” Peter said lowly.

Tony’s eyes flashed for a moment, but his hands went up to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them without breaking eye contact from where he sat. Maybe, like Peter, he thought that if he looked away, the other might vanish into thin air.

The fact that Tony undressed without questioning Peter’s demand was thrilling, and further proved Peter’s theory that Tony didn’t just like the scent, but it also made him feel some type of way. When Tony’s clothes were off and Peter was met with a concentrated wave of Tony, he realized exactly what type of way that was.

Peter demanded Tony get on his knees on the bed, and sure enough, when the older man was on all fours and had his back arched just so to present to Peter oh so perfectly, he could see Tony’s hole was already glistening with slick. Fuck, he’d probably been wet since he’d entered Peter’s bedroom.

He put his hands on Tony’s ass and spread him wide, watching as more slick gathered at his puckered hole, and dribbled down pathetically toward his little Omega cock. Peter let out a sigh and watched Tony shiver as the air brushed across his exposed entrance.

“Is that what I always do to you?” Peter wanted to know as he tentatively stroked the thumb of one hand down Tony’s crevice.

“Yes,” Tony didn’t even make an attempt at avoiding the subject or trying to hide how everything was affecting him, “Jesus, Peter, you have no idea what you do to me…”

Pride flared up in Peter’s chest, and he surged forward to reward Tony with a long lick, lapping up the slick that had gathered with one swipe of his tongue. Tony tasted even sweeter than he smelled. And he sounded oh so pretty when he moaned like that.

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Peter murmured when Tony had stopped shaking, “I could have had you all this time.”

Tony dropped his head down between his shoulders and he made another soft sound.

“I think you’ve got a couple of lessons to learn.” Peter pushed his thumb into Tony without warning, enjoying how the other immediately constricted around him despite his body eagerly swallowing up the single digit. When Tony cried out but remained otherwise silent, Peter pushed harder.

“I said,” he reemphasized, “I think you’ve got a couple of lessons to learn.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Tony keened without missing a beat.

Good. Oh, very good. He was finally catching on.

This was exactly how Peter wanted him. Pliant, obedient, submissive. Doing exactly as Peter told him to, or asked him to, or said. He’d imagined scenarios like this before, so many of them that he’d lost count, and now finally he could start living his fantasies.

Starting with punishment. Because Tony had taken far too long to crack.

Peter rose his free hand, and allowed it to come down rather sharply on one of Tony’s ass cheeks, tearing a gasp from Tony’s throat. He went tight around Peter’s thumb and Peter reveled in the feeling.

“Good Omega,” Peter purred, and pulled his thumb out almost all the way just to push back in, “That’s what I like to see. You’ll be good for Alpha, won’t you?”

Tony nodded, still struggling to catch his breath, but the lack of reply earned him another firm slap, skin going a beautiful, rosy red.

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, I will. I’ll be good,” Tony blurted out quickly. He squirmed away from Peter for a brief moment before he was pushing back against his hand, more slick building, creating a mess in Peter’s palm.

“Fuck, Mr. Stark, you’re so sloppy. I love it.” Peter grinned, pulled his thumb back, and inserted two fingers this time, stretching Tony wider and wider until he was loose enough to finally be able to take Peter’s cock. The Alpha had been looking forward to this for ages, and Tony was being so good.

Peter pushed his pants down just enough to be able to take himself in hand, spreading Tony’s slick across the head before he lined it up so that it was just touching Tony’s waiting hole and then he paused, long enough for Tony to make a frustrated sound. He was clearly about to take matters into his own hands and pushed back on his own volition, but Peter slapped him once again, his other cheek this time, and Tony was set straight in an instant.

“Nah-ah,” Peter tutted, and smoothed his hand over where Tony’s skin was growing red, “You get my dick when I tell you. So you wait, and you beg, and then maybe I’ll give it to you.”

Tony’s hole fluttered against the head of Peter’s cock, slick still dripping, now worse than before.

“Please,” he sounded out of breath. Peter loved it. “Please, c’mon. I need it.”

Peter didn’t move.

“Alpha,” Tony whined again, and wiggled his hips as if to entice Peter, and hell it was working too. He never had much self-restraint to begin with, and it was crumbling quickly now. “Please.”

“That’s better,” Peter sighed, and with two hands on Tony’s hips, he rocked forward, and bottomed out in one strong motion.

Tony cried out. He’d already made so many sounds that Peter had never heard of him before, and now this, and Peter was a goner. He immediately set up a quickened pace, unable to contain himself or think it through or reconsider – he didn’t think, he just did. He held Tony firmly in place while he rocked harder, faster, setting up a near-brutal pace that had Tony howling within seconds.

But when Peter spotted Tony reaching down between his own legs, the Alpha stopped suddenly to lift his hand and slap the arm away. He grabbed Tony’s wrist and pinned it to the mattress, climbing up onto the bed just behind Tony so that he could push the upper half of his body down, cheek buried into the bedsheets and both hands pinned under one of Peter’s hands.

“You don’t get to touch yourself. This is punishment, remember?” Peter breathed into Tony’s ear. He got a weak moan of “Sorry, Alpha” in reply before he returned to snapping his hips with the intention of filling Tony up and claiming him as his own as much as he possibly could without touching his mating gland.

Although fuck, that gland was looking prettier by the second, swollen with Tony’s arousal, ready to be bit and broken to seal their bond…

No. Not now. Not this time.

Peter would have Tony, eventually, but for now he’d have to be satisfied with what he could consensually get.

“You come on my cock,” Peter grunted in between harsh thrusts of his hips, “Or you don’t come at all.”

Peter’s cock was more than enough for Tony. The way it brushed his prostate with every swipe had him shaking on his knees, eyes prickling the more sensitive he became. He already knew that once Peter popped his knot, that would be it.

And Peter didn’t last very long. Having Tony below him like that, completely at his mercy and oh so very willing, how could he? But it didn’t matter. With his refractory period, Tony wouldn’t have to be empty for very long.

Hell, maybe he wouldn’t have to be empty at all. He would have loved to keep Tony trapped on his cock all day, stuffed and satisfied, near-delirious as he continued to pump him full of cum.

The thought of Tony completely docile like that was what did it for Peter.

His knot expanded as he neared orgasm, and he managed to fit it into Tony’s tight hole just in time before it grew too big, and he came with a growl.

He didn’t notice Tony toppling over the edge soon after him, spilling weakly into the bedsheets below, something that Peter would find later and thoroughly enjoy.

Peter allowed himself to collapse against Tony’s back while his cock twitched inside of him, pleasure washing over him until he felt limp and beyond content with the knowledge that he had just knotted Tony fucking Stark.

Peter kissed at the back of the man’s neck, brushed his lips over his mating gland just a touch, unable to resist because it was still pouring out all of those lovely pheromones. Tony gave a soft hum, sounding satiated and relaxed. He was so warm, and he’d been so good for Peter. Peter couldn’t believe his luck.

“If you’d known that this would happen if you’d asked me… would you have done so?” Peter murmured against Tony’s shoulder.

The older man squeezed around Peter’s knot, which was definitely on purpose because Peter could see him grin when he let out a surprised gasp as it milked another weak load out of him.

“If I’d known you were interested, Peter, I would have already climbed you like a tree many, many times.”

Peter chuckled and wrapped both arms around Tony’s chest so they could slightly change positions and get a little more comfortable. After all, they were going to be stuck together for a while. Peter could think of no one he would rather be stuck with than Tony.

“Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do, then,” Peter joked. Tony smiled, and pressed closer.

“Don’t worry, Alpha. I’m not going anywhere until you’re satisfied.”

And wasn’t that just the sweetest promise ever.

[gegenji]

FFXIV Write 2019 #8: Overeager

Written for Prompt Eight of @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s daily writing challenge for September!

There was no actual prompt for day eight - as it’s a make-up day - but I had this little story snippet idea already tossing around a bit in my head that I wanted to put to paper. And what better way than use the writing challenge to get myself to do it! Plus, I like the idea of extra credit even if I’m mostly doing this to get myself to write more rather than for any reward.

[All FFXIV Write 2019 Pieces]

===========

"Heeeeey, Fuddy!" came the call that set Chachan to wincing as the source - one Gria Gai - all but catapulted themselves into the darkness of Pla Enni. Pixies, according to the Nu Mou themselves, usually didn’t like the dark and dank environs of the caves where the more personable fae lived. Gria was no exception, as they had complained the entire way over about it to the captive audience that was Chachanji Gegenji, and so one had to wonder if the reason for the visit was enough to combat that distaste or if the Pixie just wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

“I do recall telling you to not call me that,” Caire Amh retorted simply as he left his home – one of the many pla enni species of mushroom that gave the town its name.

“You have!” Gria responded with a nod as the Nu Mou trundled down the additional, smaller mushroom caps that served as stairs. “Still callin’ ye it, though!”

Caire let out an exasperated sigh even as Chachan caught up and sought to apologize for the Pixie’s actions. Something that had become a bit of a norm amongst the trio given the Lalafell’s frequent visits. Visits both to provide more material and assistance in the creation of his new garb, as well as just to provide patronage to a clan in such dire need for it. With how happy it made them, the little smith had gotten into a bit of a habit of going to them for a lot of his needs and wants.

Which certainly bothered Gria a fair bit, upset that their Mortal was spending so much time with other fae. And Gria Gai wasn’t a Pixie to keep quiet about their discontent – which led to several clashes between the possessive fairy and Caire’s kin. Conflicts that poor Chachanji was oft tasked with trying to settle down via appeasing one side, the other, or both. It was quite draining at times, really.

Hopefully this trip would be a relatively simple affair, for today was the day Caire was to have finished the final touches on Chachanji’s new outfit, after all, and they had come to collect. It was made of the hide of the elusive samiel he had hunted at the Nu Mou’s behest, interspersed with gems like the outfit Ms. Ruri had made for the Lalafell prior to his abduction, and decorated with fae runes that Caire had only just now finished inscribing on the leathers. All in order to provide him some manner of protection – and most importantly cover for the sake of decency – when dealing with all the tasks and pranks the fae foisted upon him.

So, needless to say, the Lalafell was a little excited.

“’s it done?” he asked, after a few apologetic bows for Gria’s antics. The Nu Mou nodded and, delving into his robes, produced the garment – folded neatly and kept together by a hachigane. The latter – and bits of the cloth involved with the outfit – had been salvaged from the tatters of Chachan’s original outfit made by the Viera seamstress back home. Fixed up and runed up, of course.

“As promised, for all your dedicated patronage,” Caire stated, before taking a bit of a half-step back as Gria interjected themselves into the conversation. “Try it on, try it on!”

“Oh, uh…” Chachan looked about bashfully. “R-right now?”

“Of course, right now!” the Pixie insisted, fluttering up to the Lalafell’s face. “It’s felt like ages ye two have been workin’ on this thing. So, I wanna see it!”

“W-well, I ‘spose I could. But… um… d-don’t look while I change, akay?”

“Fine, fine, fine.” An exaggeratedly dismissive wave. “Dun know why ye insist on it when we’ve all seen ye hundreds’a fulms tall, though.”

That got a fluster out of the poor little Lalafell as he shuffled away to change, not refuting the fact but none too happy about it either. At least Gria’s skill with glamours allowed him to maintain some degree of decency whenever the fae (whether Gria themselves or one of the others) felt in the mood to supersize him, ruining whatever he happened to be wearing at the time. Which were usually “fashionable” outfits made by the Pixie as well, though a fair few of them were so audacious that Chachanji wasn’t sure if he felt more or less embarrassed being in them or bursting out of them.

Hopefully this new garment would help with all that, though. Plus, the samiel hide meant it took glamours relatively easily so the Pixie could still show off their self-proclaimed impeccable fashion sense. Which may have been the only reason Gria had been willing to have him wearing something other than their own designs.

It all fit well enough – Chachan had made sure of that, of course, as part of his assistance in its creation – but the Lalafell still felt a bit timid on his return to show it off to the two faeries. He presented himself awkwardly to them, shuffling about nervously as Gria flew circles around him to get a good look. After a few laps, the Pixie settled between the Lalafell and the Nu Mou with their hands on their hips.

“Not bad, not bad! Not as amazing as what I could make, but that goes without sayin’!” Gria stated with a nod towards the Nu Mou, providing as close to a complement as one could expect from the self-proclaimed fashionista. “And this’ll all stay in one piece no matter how big he gets?”

“That it will,” Caire affirmed.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really really?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s try it out!” the Pixie exclaimed immediately, rolling up a non-existent sleeve.

“W-wait…!” was all Chachan could manage before receiving a face-full of magic from both the faeries. All at once, the cavernous cavern suddenly became far too small for the Lalafell, who yelped as his head collided with the ceiling and caused a shower of rock and mushroom to cascade down his form and crash to the cave floor. The cacophonous noise reverberated through Pla Enni, followed by a billowing cloud of dust and debris. When it all settled, all was quiet save for the delighted laughter of Gria Gai, who was literally rolling on the ground laughing at the results.

“Hm. Put a little too much into that, I think,” Caire commented idly, tapping at the sole of one very massive shoe with his staff.

“D-did we really hafta make sure it worked right ‘way?” the Lalafell asked, hunching down to keep from banging his head against the rocky ceiling. Again. “Coulda gone outside first…”

“Oh. Yes. That might have been wise,” the Nu Mou agreed thoughtfully to the backdrop of even harder laughter from the Pixie. The oversized Lalafell sighed and shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, wincing a little as doing so caused another trickle of debris to clatter down the cave wall.

At least the new outfit had held together just fine.

[quantumrpg]

NAME: Virginia “Gin” Rose Anderson  AGE: May 10th, 1900 SPECIES: Werewolf OCCUPATION: Owner of Mileage YEAR OF DEPARTURE: 1925 RESIDENT FOR… one year FACECLAIM: Amber Heard

t i m e  i s  a n  i l l u s i o n,  b u t  n o t  o u r  s t o r i e s…

Virigina’s life was straight out of a fairytale. Raised by her wealthy Southern grandmother and father, Virginia spent her beginnings in the lap of luxury. Despite not having a mother, she was raised to be the perfect woman. Her grandmother would teach lessons where her precious granddaughter would walk around the house with a book her head while reciting poetry from an English poet that she could not quite remember the name of. Virginia hated these lessons, although did not complain because her grandmother allowed her and her father to live there.

Her father was her best friend. Thomas Anderson was an angel in the guise of a   human. He did not care if she smashed down the rules that were set forth for her by her grandmother. In fact, he cherished her most difficult ideas; grinned when she returned home with her dress dirty. He was not your typical man, but, then again, she was not the typical daughter.

When she was ten, he taught her how to fix her first car. The cars then were small but complex. Little moving pieces captivated her fingers and as she worked, her dad would tell her stories of her mother. She was, her father said, ahead of her time, just like her daughter. The two of them would spend hours in the garage Ginny’s grandmother had bought for him. The shop was named “Ginny” and she would have lived there, helping her father, if it wasn’t for the war.

Her father left for Europe in April of 1917. Virginia watched him go, waving him off on the ship, hat in the air, tears streaming down her face. That was the last time she cried. Virginia took over his shop while he was a soldier, despite her grandmother’s wishes, but she managed to keep up both her teachings and running the store. By the time she was eighteen, Virginia did not have time to think about marriage, even though her grandmother kept trying to set her up with someone. She kept her head down, mostly under cars, and isolated herself from the world. She missed her father but she knew he would be home soon. After all, Ginny had heard the war would be over in a couple of months anyways.

While those whispering were right about the war, 1919 brought devastation to the Anderson family. Her father was killed in the last month, about to go home when a bomb destroyed their camp in the trenches. Ginny, devastated, did not know what to do other than leave her hometown. The south was not her home, anyway, and she had always wanted to go to the city. Sneaking out was easy, and although she felt horrible about leaving her grandmother, at least she had the comfort of knowing that her home was safe. Leaving a note behind, Ginny hopped on a train and headed to New York.

Living on her own was not nearly as easy as she thought. After spending about a month homeless, Ginny joined the circus learning how to be a trapeze artist. She  stayed on the circus routes for a couple of years and had become quite talented when she finally decided that it was time to go back to the city. Although she’d made next to nothing, at least she had been on her own and able to make her own decisions. The people there did not make her feel like she was nothing. Instead, she grew into herself, and allowed trust to form between her and her fellow circus artists.

That was until the summer of 1923. One of her closest companions had taken her out to the woods just outside of where they had set up the tent. He wasn’t feeling so well but they always explored on the first night and Ginny wasn’t about to let a little stomach ache stop their fun. Of course, she would never regret anything else in her whole life other than that night. It was his first time changing, as he’d only been bitten a couple of days before. Ginny was lucky he did not eat her alive and rather just bit her and ran, leaving her stumbling back to the camp.

Nothing happened, for a month. Ginny did not make mention of what happened and her friend, well he had never returned. For a while, she had thought that maybe she had merely imagined what had happened to her. Of course, that was until her stomach started hurting, her hands began sweating, and her body felt like it had been run over. The night of the next full moon, she dragged herself to the woods just in time and changed for the first time.

When she awoke, she was miles from the circus. Naked, and having no idea how to get back or what had happened to her, Ginny stumbled into the nearest town. After buying clothes, Ginny found out that the circus was close by and instantly returned to get her things, panicked, and returned to New York city. She could not trust her own self now and so pushed away those she cared about. Besides, it wasn’t like she knew anyone else who turned into a wolf at the full moon. The only other person had abandoned her and she was left to fend for herself. Like usual.

She spent two years traveling around New York, working on cars to keep herself busy, and trying hard to focus her energy on anything other than the full moon each month. Those two years were the most miserable of her life. She spent most of her time drinking or tinkering, finding solace only underneath a car hood. Until 1925, Ginny was not living her life. She was just getting by.

The liminal space was a blessing. She entered by car, merely test driving a car for a very rich client. Ginny still uses the car when she can, and it sits out back of her shop in case someone wanted to admire her prized possession. However, one minute she was driving among trees and the next, as she turned the corner, she saw the skyline of Manhattan grow. She’d almost slammed into a tree at the shock but managed to stop the car, get out, absolutely terrified at the fact that some of the buildings had grown hundreds of feet.

Tessa showed up not hours later and before Ginny knew what had happened, she was sucked into training. Tess was like a big sister to her, and even though training was hard, it was rewarding. She finally opened her own shop after finishing her training early, and although she is still closed off to most of the world, at least she doesn’t quite feel like she’s so out of place. Ginny found her family; found her pack. She was maybe even happy again.

She became Gin, and has not looked back since.

t e l l  m e,  a r e  w e  a  p r o d u c t  o f  w h o  w e  u s e d  t o  b e?

+ Logical: Gin has always been able to see the straight path. She often does not follow her heart and is known to always suggest the most practical solution. Her dreams are not too big, not too small. Her hopes are never too high. She keeps her head down low but knows that she will always find a solution that makes sense.

+ Adventurous: The only time she is not logical is when she allows herself to travel. Nature has always been her friend, especially now that she is a werewolf, and she loves hiking, exploring, and finding new places to be in the world. That’s why she loves the city; it is not quite nature but it is as unpredictable, in her opinion. Gin always hopes to try new things.

+ Confident: Maybe her confidence comes from her ability to be logical, but Gin knows that she has the tools she needs to succeed. After years of not being confident, of relying on others, Gin decided that the only person she could really rely on is herself. Gin knows that she can pull through, so long as she thinks that she can.

- Abrasive: Sometimes, she doesn’t quite mean to be so rude. But oftentimes, her curtness comes off hard. She doesn’t like people. Gin has only had bad experiences with them in the past and so her abrasive nature has come from those rough experiences.

- Stubborn: Gin is unable to step down from her point of view. It’s a horrible trait, and even she hates it sometimes, but she often puts herself in fights with others if they don’t believe in the exact same ideas. She is unmovable; a mountain.

- Detached: After losing so much, Gin has cut herself off from the rest of the world. She spends most of her days either with Tess or in her shop, unable to think about even making friends in fear of getting hurt again. Gin doesn’t know if she will ever be able to feel completely alive again but maybe one day she will plug back in to the world. For now, though, she remains as far away from everyone as she can.

[netherwar-rpg-blog]

Welcome to the Wardens, Sav! Your application for THE SORCERER has been accepted with a Adetomiwa Edun FC.

The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!

O O C - I N F O

Name: Savanah or Sav

Age: 20

Timezone: Pacific Standard

Activity Level: I am also apart of two other rps and work twenty hours a week right now. During the semester I go to school full time. However, I use writing as a stress reliever and almost guarantee that I’ll be on through a rotation every few days to do replies and the like. I would love to be as active as I can because I seriously love everything about the idea of this rp.

Extra: I do not necessarily have any triggers and am pretty game for most any plots, the darker the better. However, I do have anxiety and can occasionally be on and off because of it while I try to balance out RL things. When this happens, though it is rare, I will definitely keep both admins and writing partners in the loop.

S K E L E T O N - I N F O

T H E - B A S I C S

Skeleton Title: THE SORCERER

Name: Adebayo (‘he who was happy’) Adisa (‘the lucid one’); formerly surnamed: Ajanlekoko (‘the Dog is chasing the Wolf’)

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Class: Priest

Faceclaim: Adetomiwa Edun, please. I feel like his appearance  would be a great contrast to the darkness of the character and make him very unassuming while other characters should be leery of him.

C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S

Nationality: Narfeni, particularly of the Dorubish people

Appearance: Adetomiwa Edun

When Adebayo stands it’s so people can see his eyes from beneath the hood of his habit, the only color in an otherwise darkened facial expression. He wants people to know that he is not a force to be reckoned with, despite his apparent joyful demeanor. His chest is broad and stance steady, a solid stone in the midst of the chaos raging in his head. When he stands he plants his feet, knees bent slightly as though compensating for a sway in the land no one else can feel. His hands are broad, palms wide and fingers strong, calloused by the work done with his father as a boy, before the family would move to Varthal. The bridge of his nose is tapered, delicate where the heaviness of his cheekbones and  brow are not. It is why anyone speaking to him is drawn into his face, for it is open and friendly yet holds a quiet madness brewing beneath.

A scar graces the curve of his left eyebrow and stretches down into the hairline at his temple, a puckered pink arc from a hook that caught him across the face. Small little scars and callouses line his palms , though moreso on his left,  and make his hands rough to the touch, unpleasant for someone in the business of healing as he is, or is believed to be. His feet look much the same, though the only time you’d see them is if you snuck up on him during meditation or in the bath.

The Sorcerer’s dress wars with his profession, at once a clash of two cultures. He holds onto the roots of his loud, brash, boisterous people in the threading and pattern work of his clothing, making his robes and other essentials as subtly ornate as he can. Adebayo craves color but as a Priest it was stripped from him during his studies, replaced by the dull whites and greys of his faction. Now, while he travels with the Wardens, Adebayo steeps himself in the richness of reds, blues, and purples when he can and contents himself with browns and black and their hidden subtleties when he cannot.

Personality:

➛ Articulate: Being raised by a merchant family, even if they lived off the sea, gave Adebayo a vast appreciation for his studies. His mother, in between having him help his father, taught him his letters and how to read and write them, as well as simple arithmetic. She was training him to take over the business even when there was a hint of something different about him.  This early appreciation for learning served him well in the Citadel of Light, allowing him to raise to the top of his classes and become known as one of the most dedicated and powerful of the disciples.

➛Faithful: Adebayo’s faith is deeply rooted in the derision he began to feel for his people’s Oracles after the death of his sister at their hand. Moving to Varthal and witnessing the power, the true power that the Priests of the Holy Light possesses, gives him the ability to stray from this one tenant of his people’s deep-seated influence. This and the allure that the whispers offer him when he thinks about his little sister…

➛Steadfast: Despite some of the doubts that will always be at war in Adebayo’s mind, once he makes a decision he will stick to it. His is an unmoveable presence and offers strength and consolation to those who may be doubting their path or faith. In times such as these, it is this trait that Ade uses more now than ever.

➛Brash: Much like his people, Adebayo is loud and arrogant. He thinks he knows what is right and will assert himself in the middle of a discussion or argument to state his own opinions even if no one wants to hear them. Often when he’s in the heat of an argument, his articulate responses completely abandon him. He speaks without thinking and allows his emotions to overtake him. This can occasionally lean in his favor but the majority of the time it only results in people wanting to punch him.

➛Hotheaded: His father always said that they should have named him after the fires rather than the happiness they saw on his face as a babe. Growing up, Adebayo had no concept that to channel one’s anger was something that was acceptable. It was only through the Citadel that Ade began to understand  he could harness his temper and his powers in the same breath, fearing that if he did not they would bar him from his studies. However, suppressing these angry outbursts only results in fierce debates, heated arguments, or explosive acts of epic proportions.

➛Secretive: Adebayo learned early on at the Citadel that if he wanted to achieve his true goals behind harnessing the Shadow element he would need to do so where no prying eyes could see. This mindset has bled into his life alongside the Wardens, a part of him for so long that it is almost impossible for him to turn off. Unless you are someone, like the Healer, whom he feels he can trust implicitly then he will hide pieces of himself from you even if he means no harm by it. He doesn’t like any one person to hold all of his cards, preferring to scatter them to the wind and see where they may fall.

C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D

History:

Adebayo Ajanlekoko was the first-born son of his family, born into the life of a seafaring and trading that his father and his father’s father had all been a part of. He was meant to carry on that tradition, but there was another plan for him, one that no longer involved his family. He grew up on the Exotic Islands helping his mother raise his younger brother and, then, when the time came, his little sister. Zoya was his pride and his happiness, the thing that made him want to get up in the mornings, the one person he could count on to cheer him up when he was sad. However, she would not be with him long.

Little Zoya would catch the eye of their tribe’s Oracle when she was but five years old, barely old enough to begin her letters, and his parents, so overjoyed that their little girl was special, allowed her to begin her training. They would come to regret that choice. It was not long before the Ajanlekoko family stopped receiving word about young Zoya’s progress, something that had not occurred before then. Adebayo’s father grew worried, fearing that something tragic had happened to his little girl, his only girl. He was right.

They would never tell Ade or his family what had gone wrong when she’d been sent to study with the Saejish people but the grief and anger that consumed the young boy knew no better. It did not care whatever the cause, he did not need to know, but this is where the underlying tensions and mistrust began to fester and grow. By the time Adebayo and his family left the Islands - when he was merely twelve years of age - Ade no longer believed in the sanctity of his people’s covenants with the Balance. If the Balance could allow them to kill his baby sister, what else would it be capable of?

Settling into Varthal was not an uneasy task, for the Varthali were open and accepting of the little boy with dark skin and heavy features. Rather, It would be  their culture and the shock that came with it that proved to be Adebayo’s most difficult adjustment. He did what he knew for that first year, working hard and learning the trade alongside his father, but it was not until the eve of his thirteenth year that he would understand the truth to the power brewing beneath his skin.

The activity that swarmed in the town square in the small southern Varthali village where he lived the day the High Mother and Father arrived is something that Adebayo would marvel at for the next fifteen odd years. When his mother inquired about the fanfare and excitement, she was told that the Holy Light had come to choose its disciples. Adebayo felt dread enter into his stomach then for he knew the thing that had been growing inside of him was no ordinary thing, but it was this, this holy power. And he did not want it. He had no need for it. Ade had become disillusioned by the actions of his past and the sorrow memories of his sister brought to his mind. Yet, the Light could no so easily be hidden. It found him in the market and when High Mother Carlenná smiled down at him in the town square, Adebayo knew he had no choice but to go.

Highwing was as different from Varthal as the Islands were from the ice and snow of Norvik. The activity and buzz of the capital of Morellin was a shock from the quiet existence he had lived for the majority of his life. Adebayo knew that, despite his growing interest in his studies, the interesting people, the kindness of his teachers, he could not let go of the past unless he was forced to. He requested an audience with the High Mother and Father and explained, as he stood there with his head bowed and arms folded in the dull grey habit he was forced to wear, that he wished to be stripped of his family name, for it reminded him too much of the pains and anguish of his past. The Mother smiled upon him and surnamed him Adisa, the lucid one. He would never know if that smile foretold the way his life would be shaped from that moment on.

Adebayo, freed from the shackles of his past, pledged himself gratefully to his studies. Soon he rose through the ranks, his eagerness, power, and growing skill marking him as potentially one of the most skilled among the new disciples. However, his fascination did not lie solely in the healing properties of the Light but drew him into the allure of the Shadow element. His teachers cautioned him to learn it and use it sparingly but Adebayo continued his studies, despite their words, for there was something there that pushed him forward, a propulsion that soon became an obsession for understanding what a Priest could do with the information he learned as the Shadow’s student.

It was not long into the rigor of his studies that his secretive actions began to take a toll. Adebayo began to hear the voices, whispers that snaked along the streets of Highwing and permeated the  very walls of the Citadel. They spoke to him of many things, great things, and, even, promised him the ability to finally understand the circumstances behind little Zoya’s death. He worked harder then than ever, ignoring the concerned looks and well-meant warnings. If he could bring back his Zoya, if he could learn the  truth, the thing that haunted his waking dreams and was the fodder for his nightmares, Adebayo would continue his work until it drove him mad.

Reason for joining the Wardens:

Adebayo became paranoid in his actions, concerned that his experiments with Shadow would be discovered by the Citadel and he would be forced to give up the sole thing driving him or, even worse, be stripped of his station as Priest of the Holy Light and cast into exile, a pawn under the thumb of those who wished to stifle his power. When word reached him that a new faction, one dedicated to understanding the Netherworld and its powers, had been created by none other than Vanáriel Vaewren herself, the great Priestess and Hand of the Light, Adebayo knew that would be his salvation. Stealing away in the dead of night, Ade tracked the Hand to her camp in Miwor Town, claiming a loyalty to her that he only felt in the vaguest sense of the word. If she offered him the opportunity to continue his work, possibly even further his power with the addition of the information discovered about the Netherworld, then he would be more than happy to pretend. He was, after all, a dedicated student.

R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E

There have always been tales and songs of the walking dead. As your character huddles around a limp and fading campfire, they glimpse ghostly shapes through the forest’s trees. What do they do as the undead approach?

His mother had always warned him against playing with dead things. The fish that washed up on the shore, the birds, fallen from their nests, all of them were taken from this world by the Balance for a reason, she used to say. As a boy Adebayo had taken this to heart but, now, now he merely laughed at the superstitions of an old Island woman. He had loved her, in many ways he still continued to in his heart of hearts, but he had forsaken his past when he had changed his name, taken on the true mantle he had been born to carry. Death was no longer something he feared. He harnessed it, learned from it.

It made him a stronger man. It brought him that one step closer to Zoya, precious Zoya.

Ade had glimpsed the shadows as evening fell, the light of his fire keeping them at bay as he went about his business. They were merely curious, he knew, of the man who walked so calmly in a land held in the claws of death. He could hear them, the whispers that fed the Shadow louder in their presence, slithering in and out of his mind’s eye as smoothly as rushing water.. He had know they would be coming. He was not afraid. Adebayo set up camp as he normally would, calmed his horse when she spooked at the sounds coming from the treeline, and bedded down for the night, all the while keeping the whisperings at the back of his mind. In these recent months, Ade had grown accustomed to their chatter, their hissing, but the closer they became to him and his quickly dwindling fire the harder they became to ignore. They may only be curious of him but, he knew, the undead were fickle. Their whims could change as easily as the direction of the wind before the first signs of a storm.  

His dagger was clutched in his left hand, curled beneath his blankets. He was not an agile man, his body too broad, but he was strong and his arms held power enough to keep them at bay if need be. But, Ade did not want to harm them. The Shadow whispered to him, beseeched him not to, not unless it needed them. So, he would not, not until the moment they became useful to him.

“I hear you, my friends,” he whispered into the night. The ghastly shadows moved closer, only a shambles pace away from the edge of his fire now. “I understand your pain, your curiosity. I will not hurt you. I merely wish to understand you.” The gurgling, hissing mumbles and groans grew louder and he smiled into the darkness, teeth flashing from the sliver of moon peeking from beneath the blanket of clouds that crossed the sky.

“I understand you. I wish to help you. Come closer, do not be afraid. The Shadow calls to you, it can help you. It can save you, too, my friends. Oh, it is more glorious than anything you will ever know. All you must do is reach out, and I will meet you.”

The dagger flashed in the light. The whispers grew quite. The Shadow was sated and Ade was content, body humming with power as his mind drifted off into a fitful sleep filled with his demons..  

[autumn-flick]

The Anointment ~ Chapter Two

Warnings;

Brief nudity, slight cursing

He was glad his father was dead… he honestly was. Nine full months without that damn fleabag coming inside his room at ungodly hours of the morning and waking him up to go running or training or to just… stop sleeping and being lazy. Now, with Liria as Alpha, she didn’t mind him sleeping all the way ‘till the sun was at the highest point in the sky. Then he could sleep an hour or two more, just because he was comfortable in his bed and other wolves were too unimportant to deal with, sleep was better. Sleep was way better. And sleep helped him heal, his leg was mostly healed up… well, no, it was completely healed up. He just like to fake a limp so he could sleep - though it wasn’t working so well after a few months. He still needed sleep! Hell, last night he stayed up till the moon was highest in the sky, why? Because he had been going through his father’s possessions (only just managed to get to it) - trying to find the things he wanted to keep for himself, and just to let you in on a little secret, El was a hoarder and would be a gold digger if he was allowed to mingle with the people outside of the castle… or royal household… but he loved shiny and expensive things and his father had a lot of those things, so… El took them and stashed them away in his room. But, the point was, he had stayed up later than he intended to and he had something to do the next day, yet he couldn’t remember what it was, so he had just removed all of his clothing and fell asleep in the dark, silken sheets and slept until… “Hey, hey, Reyhg… you need to wake up.” He groaned, rubbing his face into the pillows as his arms flexed and his body tensed for a couple of seconds, “Why?” He mumbled in his groggy state, he wanted to fall back asleep, but the chill that ran over his bare buttocks and back made him grope around for the silk sheet that normal rested over his lower back, turns out it was on the back of his calves and he groaned, rolling over a tad before grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to his shoulders, making another noise that sounded akin to a groan. “Because, you are going to Alpha Yelondae’s pups’ anointment.” The voice spoke to him as feet pattered around the room  to supposedly gather things for him to wear. El grimaced under the sheet as his orange eyes revealed himself, the young man groaned rubbed his face with long, bony fingers. His pale skin stood out strangly against the silken covers and the darkened room, but his hair blended in well with the pillow he rested his head upon, his curls spilled over as they were wild and unruly, the length almost reached his shoulders…. And for awhile now, Liria had been bugging him about getting his hair cut shorter. And he thought he would do it… for the babies he didn’t want them freaking out about his hair or pulling on it, as he was to hold one of them in approval… or something, he forgot about what these appointments were about. But it was early (or so he thought) in the morning, he shouldn’t have to think. “What time is it…?” El groaned as he managed to sit up in bed, making sure his private parts were covered properly as he looked over to the… staff person, not servant… servants were unpaid. Staff people were paid, it was like El’s personal nanny. Though he did wish it had been a female, and if it had, his sheet wouldn’t be lying so flat against his lap… so, there were pros and cons to having a male nanny. “It’s time for you to wake up.” This male had a certain sass to his voice that made El’s face scrunch up just slightly, mumbling something under his breath - he then moved to lay back down when a t-shirt was thrown at his face, as well as a pair of black pants, “Get dress, Reyhg, you have a hair appointment.” The sassy man said as he walked the length of the room with the grace of a swan, stopping by the door to observe the sixteen year old with narrowed eyes, “I expect you to be there in five minutes.” Then, the flamboyant male nanny turned away with a toss of his dark blonde hair and strolled away with his chin in the air. Leaving El to gawk a bit at his exit, wondering why the hell Liria thought getting that guy was good idea. The young male sighed, rolling his eyes a tad before he stood up from his bed, strolling over to the window while at the same time, pulling his pants on. Which resulted in a less than graceful struggle across his room, but, he was alone, he didn’t care if he looked like a chicken flapping their wings helplessly as they tried to get off the ground. Once he got his jeans over his skinny legs, he picked the belt off of the chair it was hanging off of and looped it through the jeans and buckled it as he stared out the now open window into the city-like structure they had behind the castle. It was stupid to have the castle in front of the city, but the Light Pack… they arranged battles, that is how it had always… always been. Though there hadn’t been a battle for over fifty decades, El knew that his father had been greatly disappointed when he tried to launch an attack, but it had been canceled by something… El couldn’t remember what it was, but he was grateful that his father hadn’t managed to start something and not be able to finish it - leaving the city and Liria to handle it. He was grateful for his adoptive mother, he honestly was, she was so calm and peaceful… he was curious about her, why was she so calm when she was supposed to be evil? El tilted his head a bit, light muscles coiling under his skin as he raised his hand to tug it through the wild curls, though he only got half way before he winced and pulled his hand away, sometimes, he honestly hated the curls at times. Maybe once he got his hair cut, he would feel better about them. “Reyhgaur, you need to be at your hair appointment, young mister!” El flinched as he turned himself around to see the male nanny glaring in the doorway, sizing the young man up which immediately made the skinny boy feel nervous as he quickly pulled the black shirt over his thin frame, crossing his arms once it was covering his incredibly pale skin, “Alright, I’m going.” El didn’t like this man, he gave the young boy the creeps - only because El wasn’t too keen to be around men after what his father had done to him. Branded him with the name Reyhgaur after his death, trained him for submission, tried to put fear and darkness into him. And… it honestly worked, he was afraid - no, wary, he was wary of most men, at least those that had age over him… he was weird, he knew that, but he would never say it outloud… Once Reyhgaur left his room, he walked down long hallways, thankful for long legs and long strides so he was quick to leave the male nanny behind, he wanted to be along for the hair cut. And it was to be when he was a human… cutting a wolf’s mane was hard, especially for someone who had a sensitive scalp and skin. Though when he got there, he saw that Liria was standing there and talking to the barber, in forming him that she wanted the hair to be cut shorter - like, way shorter than it was now. “Is this a mutiny I sense?” El joked lightly as he walked inside of the room and over to the Alpha, bowing his head just slightly and looking up to the barber, who was female. Soft hands, calming voice and most certainly not a man, he was glad the Alpha took heed of his wariness. Oh yeah, not barber, stylist… he preferred the word barber, but, whatever. The woman, black hair, dark skin and kind eyes, she smiled warmly at the male and motioned to the seat, “Yes it is, Reyhgaur, your mother says she want is short, what do you think?” She asked as she slowly started to bunch his hair up, showing off the rather sharp cheekbones he often kept hidden, but he assumed with the new haircut, he would be showing them off a lot more now - and he didn’t exactly know how he felt about that. “Shorter, I guess, but… not short enough to where you can’t see my curls.” El finally decided after a couple of seconds of silence, a light smile warmed his face as the woman smiled back, “Perfect!” The woman chirped, then she got to work on the boy’s mess of curls. It took an hour and thirty minutes, but once she was finished with him, she turned him back around to face the mirror to see what had once been a shoulder length mop, was now a well contained, loose curls around his head - resting over his ears with slight bangs that swept to the side, the new him… a smile pulled over his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, finding his fingers slid much easier through it, he really liked the new look. “Thank you, Eryn, I really like it.” El smiled as he slipped from the chair and brushed his hands down his pants, his hands were sweating because there was a pretty girl and he did not want to embarrass himself, which he probably was by now… just staring at her even after she had said “you’re welcome”. “Uh… would you like to hang out s-some time?” He stuttered, trying to hide the color in his cheeks as he looked down at the ground, feeling even more warmth in his face as she chuckled a bit awkwardly, and he then rushed to save her, “D-don’t feel like y-you have to because I am prince… j-just…” “Hun, you’re a bit too young for me, maybe in a couple years, we’ll see.” She chuckled, not at all afraid of the young prince, more amused at his blush and stutter. Liria had left the room a while ago, figuring her ‘son’ would be fine on his own… she needed to do something. She had to finish the spell… “Intertwine their fates, bring peace to the land - how ever you see fit.” The deep red hybrid whispered to the air as her arms cross in a dance above her head as read smoke danced from her fingertips, laced with gold. She repeated the movements with her arms a couple of times as the smoke gathered above her to form a shape and slowly became solid - then, it settled itself into Liria’s hands, presenting itself as a necklace with a trillion shaped ruby in the middle. The auburn wolf smiled slowly as she held it in her paws, “Very well.” ~~A Couple Hours Later~~ “Oh, Reyhg, just, let me fixed this curl.” Liria said as she reached for his hair, wanting to adjust his hair, she was almost as tall as him, standing at five foot, six inches, and him standing at five, eight, she nearly managed to snag his curls, to which he responded by moving his head away and chuckling, “Mom, no.” Yes, he still called her ‘mom’, he kinda had to… just because he didn’t want her to know… It would break her, he was sure of it. His adoptive mother pulled her hands back and frowned, making the young male chuckle as he crossed his arms, then lowered himself on bent legs so she could reach his hair and fix it, “That’s my boy.” Liria said affectionately as she fixed his hair to her liking and patted his cheek. “Your father would hate us for what we are doing.” Liria said after her smile had slipped from her pale face, yellow eyes gazing at the ground with a sigh falling from her mouth - she shook her head. It had been awhile since his death, they didn’t talk about El’s father much, or at all, just subtle mentions of him and what he wanted to do with future plans for the pack, El never felt any regret or remorse… he knew that was the one dark part of him, but he had no idea of how to rid himself of it… “He’s rolling in his ashes, mom, he’ll get over it in a thousand years.” El hummed as he stood straight and shoved his hands in his pockets, she chuckled before wrapping an arm around him. “I know he will.” Donned in white, light greys and golds, the Alpha and her son left the castle along with a couple of elder shamans (well, not exactly shamans, more like priests they stole from a church) for blessing upon the children, guards followed at a distance without saying a word. “I don’t understand why we have horses and they get elk.” El muttered to himself as he stroked along his horse’s shoulder, a large, heavy set and muscular, friesian stallion… called Utyca. It was an odd name, but, Uncle Eddie named the friesian. Horses were great, he honestly thought that they were, but, elks… come on. If he had the choice to ride a horse or an elk? He’d pick an elk, why? Because he was a boy and he enjoyed running around on overgrown deer. Or, he figured he would, but he has never ridden an elk before. Maybe they were deer? Well, all he knew is they had huge antlers and often stood around five foot at the shoulder. They sounded like intense battle creatures, but, he figured he would never know. El made a soft noise under his breath as he pulled himself atop of Utyca, all of the horses had pure white tack with decorative gold tassels and designs, the manes were braided as well as the tail and their beautiful hides were shining in the sun. Must’ve taken weeks to get the damn horse to shine, and it was all for pups that wouldn’t even remember this day. Well, he just had to tolerate it for today, probably sit in the back and just observe what was going on, he didn’t actually think to mingle with the Light Pack, which he would think that half the kingdom would be there for the pups anointment. Anointment being the old shaman, blind as hell and didn’t even know the genders of the pups - but because of the visions that the gods gave him, he was going to choose an heir for the pack, no influence from anyone! He was also mute, so… The Dark Pack’s Shaman was actually a high ranking military officer that was in his mid-fifties and done his job as a guard or fought in an army or something like that, also, if you couldn’t tell - El doesn’t really pay attention to his classes. Oh, he knew Liria would shape him up, however, after all, he was next in line to be king. Provided no-one assassinated him. And it wasn’t really kingship, or whatever… even though you actually did hold all the power. You could even order an execution on some random person, but, probably until he is thirty, he’d have some kind of military official making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. That or Liria would be watching over him, which he preferred her, she was more kind and motherly, someone that he would listen to if convinced properly. The Light and the Dark only lived about five miles away from each other, so, with the horses at a smooth canter, it didn’t take too long for them to arrive. And when they did, they were greeted by the guards at the edge of the territory, now, El is going to explain how the Light and Dark were different, besides one being evil and one being good in each others senses. The dark pack had a huge, huge population - because, over the decades, there has been a mass amount of coupling and not many wars, therefore, their population grew and they learned the ways of the humans. They learned how to build, how to make stuff. Of course they stole supplies from the humans, and over the years, the kingdom grew into a huge ass city… The ‘castle’ was built right on the edge of a deep ravine - the city was built behind the cattle, which was also surrounded by a wall. The Light pack was much more simple, log cabins or tepees. There was a mountain… or a large rock formation, that the royal family, servants and others would live. They didn’t have any fences, but had guards stationed around the entire camp… area. The Light pack had around seven hundred wolves and counting. The Dark pack had two thousand and counting. So, if there was ever an attack, determined by the number of people - the Dark pack would surely win, but numbers do not always determine who will win the fight, strategy and tactic, not just brute force. El would one day, try to tell the military that, he would rearrange the ranks, position to less wolves on the military ranks. He teach them strategy and not just kill anything in sight. Those were brutes and he did not want brutes in his army. “El, look sharp!” Liria hissed as they got through the guards - pulling her horse over to his, she was quick to pass something into the young man’s hands, “Give it to the pup they choose to be alpha.” El looked down at the red velvet box and ran his thumb over it, it was some kind of jewelry, he knew that. But what for? Were they supposed to bring gifts? Was he going to say this was from Liria and not him? Eh… oh well, he didn’t care. The young man shrugged to himself, standing up in the stirrups, he placed the box in his pocket and then sat down once more as they headed to the royal cave mountain. ~ It had been two hours since they arrived, the anointment hadn’t happened yet and El was getting rather flustered, he wanted to leave, he was sure he had better things to do! And all the while, he had stayed from the pups as everyone ogled them under the close eye of their mother and multiple guards, most of them had moved on to the food and… well, just to pass the time, he figured he’d give the four a peek. They were all two months of age, eye’s open, fluffy and whimpering and whining as they were kept in a pen, separated from each other, but close enough to be heard and seen. “Hello, prince Reyhgaur.” A familiar voice spoke, making him raise his head up, a soft smile toyed with his face as he bowed before the mother and the Alpha. “Yelondae, I am glad you took my advice.” He said softly, raising his head, seeing how beautiful the mother was as she was dressed in a beautiful gown of light blue, white and gold. A beautiful headset covered her and only seemed to bring out her violet eyes even more. “I did.” She nodded, Yelondae, though clothed in a dress, was in her hybrid form, probably so her pups would recognize her easier. “Would you like to meet them?” She asked him, making El a little bit nervous, but he nodded. He made sure to keep his shoulders low, his posture relaxed, knowing how protective and dangerous a new mother could be. She took him to the first born, a light grey male with white accents, tan softly coated the edges of his fur - his eyes were a light blue that peered up with curiosity. He was ridiculously adorable, a smile falling to El’s face, “Hey, little guy - what’s his name?” “Helcuron.” Yelondae responded, then ushering him to the next one, second born son, fourth child. He was the smallest and had a mix of dark grey and light brown fur, dark accents covered him - he had dark green eyes that blinked open for a second, then closed once more as he fell back to his sleep. “Geryarl.” Next one was a slender female, medium grey with tan accents and a white nose, she too had dark green eyes like her brother. “Telousa.” The last one was a dark brown female, tan accents with tan linding her back and ears, she had dark blue-green eyes that stared up at her mother and the strange man, she stood up slowly and walked over to them, whining slightly for her momma, who reached down and stroked her ear, “Trystellia.” Elgahbar slowly smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet covered box, “Here, this is for her, Trystellia.” El then opened it to present the necklace that his adoptive mother had encased. Completely and totally forgetting that it was supposed to be for the future alpha… it just felt like it belonged to the little female. Yelondae smiled and accepted the box, taking out the necklace and at once, putting it around Trystellia’s neck, the pup sniffed at it for a second before ignoring it and continuing to whine for attention from her mother, “Thank you, Reyhgaur… it means a lot.” Her thanks was cut short, however, when a guard walked up and quietly told her that it was time for the anointment. Which was El’s que to leave, he smiled a bit and bowed in respect before taking off to join everyone else. The pups were held by the servants in the house, wiggling frantically and calling for their momma as the shaman stepped up to each of them, waved his hand in front of them and then stepped back. He raised his hand and pointed to Telousa. Declaring her as the new Alpha. And only then, did El realise what he had done.

[mredwinsmith]

Coaching Peaks and Valleys Pt 2

Phoenix. 2012 US OPEN. Colorado Springs, Colorado.

The last time I was in Colorado my college career ended in the semifinals; the two tendons running from the bottom of my shin to the top of my left foot felt like shooting pool with a rope. I should’ve known better. A day into the tournament, there was a four-way tie for second with Riot, Phoenix, Showdown, and Molly Brown all at 2-1. Scandal was 3-0 after having upset Riot in the opening round 10-6. Following rounds 4 and 5 on day two, Scandal was way out in front at 5-0, while Riot and Phoenix were 4-1 and Showdown was 3-2. During the first set of games in round 6, lightning halted play and after a lengthy delay the first foursome had their games called and decided: making Riot 5-1, and Scandal 6-0.

Phoenix vs Showdown and Ozone vs. Safari had to wait until the next morning to decide their 6th round. Now, four teams have to make up round 6 at 9:30 in the morning, whereas four other teams wait to finish the last round and the last round, is staggered with games at noon and 1:30. The semis is scheduled for 4:30. Riot at 5-1 is waiting to play Ozone (1-4). Scandal at 6-0 is waiting to play Phoenix at 1:30. As Scandal sleeps in, Phoenix arrives to make up the 6th round with a 4-1 record. We have Showdown and Riot in front of us and are guaranteed the semis as forthcoming games and overall records have that mostly decided. Only Showdown could possibly tie Molly Brown for fourth, but they’d have to lose to Aerosol who are 0-6.

Open up the lines vs Showdown, I say. Let’s self-sub or work in pods half to half and use Showdown like practice dummies and forget about the outcome. It’s a free game. Likewise with Scandal – throw every play in the playbook at them and every defensive ploy we can throw at them as well and disregard the outcome. Open the lines and play 3-3-1 and pull rollers every point. Or play them both close for a half and then open the lines up for the second halves. After all, we have a roster of 25 plus who have traveled 6,000 miles and they all want playing time. Following these two games we have at least one, and maybe one more to play for real-real. If we go 0-2 to finish pool play, we get Scandal again in the semis rather than Riot, and I see playing Scandal back to back as a plus more-so than having to play Riot who are so far in our heads the is game already over.

Meeting with the captains that morning, collectively they weren’t impressed. I guess it was like Aesop’s fable The Wolf and The Ass: they wanted to kill and not cure, that’s what they were there for, and it was put to me quite bluntly: we don’t lose to f-ing Showdown.

Flash forward to Nationals in Sarasota months later: Sunday morning 5 am and as I’m steering the rental van out of the driveway, others are just getting in after their night out as also-rans in Siesta Key. I’m returning the van to Tampa and from there driving a rental car to Orlando – to meet my family at Disney, for Halloween, where my son will get lost. One passenger in the van is one of the aforementioned future Callahan winners, the other is missing the final day to attend her grandmother’s funeral. I’m quietly waiting for the conversation and only my groggy inner chatter is talking, actually singing – wake up, wake up you sleepyhead, and trying to break down what went wrong, hoping never to see Mr. Big’s 19th Hole or the Daiquiri Deck ever again, but later, at the mercy of the Disney machine and waiting for a table at a restaurant in the Animal Kingdom Lodge, I’d regret dismissing Mr. Big’s and would almost welcome a watered down daiquiri.

Though by then I was on my own and recapping my last six hours and trying to explain why I first drove to Tampa, why no one else could return the van, why I lingered at the airport until I was certain their flights were on time. Why? Why? Why? There’s no name for it. You can’t explain it. It’s what we do. As tired as I was and with nothing to inoculate me against the Disney freak show, I only repeated myself: “It’s about the Constant Huddle and seeing it through.” And for a second, I expected Rafiki to appear and tap me on the shoulder with his walking stick and nod with approval and pride, but it was only the waitress, her eyes pinwheels not unlike a Manson girl, explaining it will be another forty-five minutes, and I may as well have been speaking another language. Which I was.

Back in the van and sensing the finality of it all, it doesn’t take my passengers long to speak up. Unlike the ride down days before, no one is dialing out with earbuds. This was the first time in four seasons we didn’t make quarters. And this is the biting issue, as if it were a birthright to ascend.

At this early hour with barely any sleep, it’s difficult to not be blunt and not point fingers. “Mention the wind, mention adjustments, and you can walk to Tampa.” Nervous laughter, but they understand. Our postseason circle hijacked by no-shows and coy indifference, they know that this is as good as it gets. Steering with one hand and holding a pin that could pop the beauty of the constant huddle if I let it, I leave it alone because with Tampa looming ahead of us, it’s this moment that makes all the investment worth it and makes the constant huddle so precious, and writing this here and now I think about all those airports, all those hotel rooms, all those rental cars and vans, all those road trips, all those discussions suspended over the open road, I think about driving back from Team USA practice in April of 2005 and getting lost in Augusta looking for James Brown’s statue, the same weekend my man DQ attended the Beth Coltman Memorial Tourney at Cape Henlopen, Pony’s first tryout, and with his car broken down – he just gives it to the guy there at Snookies Auto Sales and figured out a ride back to the city later – because this is what we do – and it was, of course, DQ who called me on that first day of March back in 2014 and asked me if I’d heard, and then I buckled and braced myself against the kitchen table, because more-so than UNCW, UCSC, UCSB, Fury, Riot, Bravo, Ring, Phoenix, Sockeye, etc, it is.

Carleton – love ‘em or hate ‘em – that transcends the idea of the constant huddle and takes it to a whole other level and I of course cannot help but think about those Carleton players setting out their cleats, their jerseys, their socks, the things they carried to a tournament they never made it to, and how that huddle remains suspended over the open road, and how fortunate you are to squeeze the juice out of this sport and ride the peaks and valleys for as long as you can.

“Mention the wind, mention adjustments, and you walk to Tampa. You showed up and played ultimate and when it was time for something else, you didn’t show up. And few things are worse than not showing up.” They stare at I-75 rolling past us. What they didn’t know and what they could not have known were the numbers. Minus Fury and Riot, the numbers I needed to see were already in. Phoenix went 4-3 and in 7 games played scored 89 points, finishing 13th overall and 8th in total points scored. Fury would be the only team to go through without a loss and of the other fifteen teams, only two stayed above double digits in ALL of their losses: Traffic with five losses and 8 games played; and Phoenix with three losses. We scored points, but somewhere the system was fractured, callow. Breathing holes weren’t enough. In pool play it went like this:

Opening round vs. Nightlock: 4-1. 6-2. 9-3. 11-5. 14-7. 14-13. We score on our second try for 14-7. We don’t see the disc on the next point, and then give up 5 straight breaks before finishing the game on our O’s second try for 15-13. Second round vs Showdown and the D2 vs D3 matchup. Our D has possession one time for 7 all downwind, but gives their O the upwinder for half. Our D has possession for 9 all downwind and again gives up the goal upwind. We break for 10 all. Showdown holds for 10-11. Despite our O’s shortcomings and the eventual finger-pointing, the O did what they had to do when they had to do it: they scored upwind in one possession to even the score at 11 all. We had the disc one time to break downwind for 12-11, but no dice. After that, we scored one time on six tries and Showdown scored three times on six tries, breaking for the game upwind on their third try and we lose to f-ing Showdown.

Third round vs Traffic: 12-7. 12-15. A five-point lead and quarters bound became suffering an eight-point run and getting bounced from the power pool. Playtime for players rewarded for being good sideline players is suddenly a tie game (insert Chris Rock logic here). At 1-2 and minus 6 in the loss column, point diff was not on our side. Either was psyche. This team was not the same Phoenix team who in 2010 was also 1-2 after the first day. Playing up from the bottom on Friday, that team rolled two for the win after being tied at 13s vs. Safari; rolled two for the win after being tied at 13s vs. Bent; then in the prequarter at 10-7, scored five on seven tries to bounce Molly Brown 15-10; and had Fury 7 even in the quarters (with no observers).

Back at the US Open and we’re down 4-6 to Showdown. Our O gets 5 on the board we run a 3-3-1 for three straight points for half 8-6. 10-7, and then they roll two for 10-9. We trade from here with neither team breaking, but Showdown scores in the hard cap to finish the game and we win 12-11. 23 total points played and we score 12 points on 25 tries in a game that goes to hard cap, and Scandal’s been in the hotel watching Wimbledon (Our first two days consisted of late mornings and Wimbledon and me watching Phoenix work on crossword puzzles and later explain how they were challenging once, until I sat beside KD at 30,000 feet en route to Potlatch and watched him destroy the New York Times crossword – in ballpoint).

Scandal came in seeded fifth among eight teams. The previous season at Nationals they lost to Phoenix in the quarters and then would go on to lose the 5th place game and 7th place games to Showdown and Molly Brown. In our quarterfinal that year, we were kicking the pants off of them until 12-6 when they came zone and our three college handlers blinked. Not so suddenly it’s 14 all and we roll the next two, breaking for the win 16-14. Later that evening at Mr. Big’s all of us reduced to also-rans, a Scandal player when told Phoenix are lining up car bombs, remarked: F Phoenix! Exactly. In 2012, there was no love lost between these two, a post-game circle was unheard of and with a 6-0 record and looking to sweep the pool, Scandal was flexing.

Despite the grind to defeat Showdown, and contrary to the strategy proposed earlier, the call was to beat Scandal and beat them by enough points to win the pull and win the tie with three teams at 6-1. So we’d see Showdown in the semifinal, the team we just tried our hardest to beat by one point. Losing, we’d still see Riot in the semis. Kill or Cure? Down a break at 2-3, we roll two for 4-3. They get back on serve for 5-6. We have the disc one time on D for half 8-7, but they score on their second try keeping the game on serve. At 9 all we earn possession one time with our 3-3-1 for the lead but turn in their red zone and it’s 9-10. On the ensuing point, our O had the disc 4 times for 10 a piece, but they break for the win and at 5-2 we moved on to play Riot in the semis.

Our first match vs Riot on the first day began competitively enough for 3/4s of the game, but with us at 2-0 and them already with a loss, suffering another upset was unlikely in the Riot camp. We hung around for a bit, down two at half, and after rolling 2 for 8-9, had four chances to tie at 9s but those missed chances quickly turned into an 8-12 hole. Final score: 9-12. Before the weather delay, Phoenix defeated Molly Brown 13-9, and Safari 12-7. We won the games we had to win to stay above 500.  After the first two games the third day, we were 1-1 with a difference of 3 points in those two games and 43 total points played. Riot went up 6-0 before we knew the game had started. Our offense was 0 for 10 on six points played. Our defense did manage to gain possession the five times that we did pull, but we never managed a break. After scoring 21 points our previous two games that day, we came away with 4 to Riot’s 15. Riot went on to defeat Scandal in the finals 15-10.

Kill or Cure? When does one or the other set the standard for things to come? And how do you know when to make that call and can you deal with the immediate or long-term backbiting? I can’t say. That’s part of the fun in coaching. You take those risks and you roll the dice. Change the force to backhand at the end of the game, and a sure-handed O just might turf the around reset, on double game point. You don’t know, but you take that risk and you take bigger ones. After the US Open, Phoenix finished the year 17-5 before Nationals; won regionals on two breaks to one; and lost to Scandal at Fusion by one after dropping the break to win, but would Phoenix at 4-3 rather than 5-2 and playing Scandal in the semis and back to back hours apart have been better off over the long haul? Well, it’s like this: The day after the US Open, connecting in Atlanta in the dreadful D concourse, the loudspeaker announced last call for Wilmington, North Carolina. I wouldn’t make it. I was pinned down in a stall with altitude sickness, wiping foam and spittle from my chin. I spent the next five hours on standby and dry heaving before getting the last flight out that day. But I wish I had that weekend back.

“The early Stones were in a constant huddle, dissecting blues songs in front of the speakers and playing them back for each other and then for their few fans. They thought of themselves, not even as a band, really, but as a way of distributing music the radio never played.” Dan Chiasson. New York Times Review of Books. March 10, 2011.

The post Coaching Peaks and Valleys Pt 2 appeared first on Skyd Magazine.

from Skyd Magazine https://ift.tt/2qKOzjM