#lor-ch

[nix-lw]

Lorch Day 31: Magic

I made a little two-tailed wolf adopt base and made my friends’ starters~ I’ve met so many new amazing friends since joining LW and I want to say thank you for making my life a little bit more magical.  Thank you so much. @wayfarer-kate @maggotjuicebox-lw @maya-lw @quichelewoof @outpost-lw @ruinous-robes @pancakelewoof @runes-creatures @witchyyweasel 

[quichelewoof]

Awoo! Spring is coming! Murkwood is thriving with the energy of spring and the swamps bloom to life. The chorus of frogs fill the air as flowers blossom out across the bogs, marshes and pits. Water voles run along the riversides, bird song returns as they migrate back to the warmer weather and bats shake off their hibernation to fill the evening skies. From catkins budding on the willows to the crimson buds of wych elms, the wetlands burst with colour.

And with spring comes tying up loose ends and organising our spaces. There’s so much to do before launch comes round! Finishing den lore we’ve put off. Saving wolf profiles for launch. Crafting customs for our starters. Deciding our future breeding projects. Drawing page breaks and shop fronts or scenes from our lore. That’s why with the help of Kate and MaggotJuiceBox, we’re hosting Lorch! A month long creative challenge revolving around Lorwolf with a spring twist. Every day during March, anyone who wants to participate in this challenge creates either a drawing, writing or any other creative task involving their wolves or Lorwolf in general and post it online. We’ve put together 31 days of prompts to get the creative juices going. (See above.) Not liking some of the prompts? Here's a word bank you can replace any of the days with:

Transition - Rejuvenation - Sprout - Flora - Growth - Dew - Forest - Fountain - Home - Tidy - Breathe - Expand - Hope - Freedom - Voyage - Wonder - Energy - Alchemy - Delight - Acceptance

Rules:

You can post your submissions on Tumblr, in the Lorwolf’s Discord Lorch Channel under contest/challenges, or Lorch forum.

All creative tasks are counted, however irl activities like baking, knitting, woodwork, and clay-making do require an irl photo.

For written pieces: The minimum word count is 200 words. (The exception is poetry, but you must spend at least 20 minutes on your poem.)

All creative tasks must be created by you specifically for this event.

Prizes:

Prizes will be given as a code to use at launch!

Creative Task Ideas:

Aside from drawing and writing, there’s plenty of other ways to join in on Lorch. Creative Tasks can include cross-stitching, paper-folding, creating a tune, paper mosaics, crochet, scrap-booking, ceramics, cake decorating, making tea blends and jewellery. As long as it can be tied in to the prompts and Lorwolf, your den, lore or wolves, it’s a great task to do.

Don't forget to tag your submissions with #Lor-ch or tag @quichelewoof​ if posting on Tumblr, so others can find your wonderful creations and they can be tallied towards your prizes.

[nemalifowl]

Lorch day 14: Acceptance!

[pancakelewoof]

Their first meeting.

Soot lives with her younger sister, Ash, deep within the forest. While her sister is often busy with mercenary work, Soot tends to their home and the small crops they grow with the help of their trusty companions.

Soot (bottom left) is initially stricken by Ashcloud's superficial similarities to her sister; from her carnation eyes to her dusty coat and the curious aura the hints at more beneath her fur (and even their names are so similar?), Soot finds herself drawn to the kit.

Ashcloud, on the other hand, is immediately smitten by the jocol. She is finally able to find peace of mind in her charming (and often witty) company.

[desnik-lw]

Lorch 10: Dawn

I'm excited about this one! Why simply have a halo when the whole face can be shadowy and sparkly and mysterious, too?

[img id] A white, long-legged maned wolf on a gray background. The wolf is drawn in a clean cel-shaded style. Drawn on top of the wolf in pencil and white digital lines are a sharp shadow that obscures most of the wolf's face, paired with an intricate halo of light that clips into and out of the wolf, like a parhelion. [/id]

[noses-in-winter]

I saw some really good humanized art of Charl!e from Sm!ling Fr!ends and I'm sorry everyone but I MUST sexualize him, I have no choice

[thesassypadawan]

Repent (Don X FemReader)

Summary: Your pastor takes notice of your new sinful tattoo and gives you but one option for repentance.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Pastor/Religion kink, hint of a breeding one, womb tattoo, implied age gap, and… Don’s big, girthy dick.

Notes: Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

- “Please, stop by the sanctuary before the party starts.  I would like to speak with you…privately.”  The pastor’s calm, even voice rang throughout your mind; his request hanging heavy on it.

- You would be lying if you didn’t admit that you found the older gentleman handsome.  The way his blue eyes sparkle when he’s speaking passionately, how his smile lights up a room.  And his mustache; the very thought of it, all it could possibly do sends a small thrill run down your spine.  Causes a warmth rise into your cheeks, settle in your…

- Grazing your palm over your lower stomach, you quietly slip through the old oak doors.  Vision taking a moment to adjust to the dimly lit, candle filled space.  Before you silently and stealthily walk up the aisle, towards the alter…and him.

- Gaze sweeps, takes in the sight of your outfit.  “Don’t you make a lovely little angel,” he chuckles softly.  Resting his large hand gently on your arm, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.  “Like you dropped down straight from heaven.”  Lips curling slightly at the corners in amusement or perhaps…

- “Th-thank you, sir,” you reply meekly.  Trying to hide how flustered you were becoming.  How your heartbeat quickens when he trails his fingers, traces over and along where your womb resides.  “But I’m…I’m sure you d-didn’t ask me here to just talk about my cost-costume.”

- “Clever girl.”  Moving in closer, towering above you.  “I noticed something interesting earlier today; a very intricate, heart shape tattoo that you apparently have.”  Don presses his prominent bulge against your side, grinding subtly.  “The one right here…”

- Nails sink in as he squeezes, kneads your sensitive skin through the sheer fabric.  “It’s supposed to represent a ‘curse’, isn’t it?”  Before his hand descends further; digits ghosting, cupping your plump mound.  “One for extreme fertility.”

- “I…I…”  You stutter, stumble with your words.  Body trembling, humming from his taboo touch.  The fires of hell burning hot, bright in your blasphemous core.  “I…can explain…”

- Slouching slightly; warm breath fans, wiry hairs tickle.  “It’s a sin to dabble in the occult…”  Teeth graze, tongue licks your earlobe in a long stripe.  “Perhaps I can help you repent…”

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

- Desperate moan bubbles up from your throat as you wriggle, writhe.  Back arching, nails scratching lightly at the worn wood of the alter floor.  Pressure building, propelling you towards the edge once more.  “Please, I…I…”

- Weakly you clamp your plush thighs around Don's head, hips rolling forward.  Impaling yourself further, divine nectar spilling onto his skilled tongue.  “For-forgive me, my lor-lord…”

- Sticky digits grip, spread you open before him.  Flesh tender, an angry red; brushed, scrapped.  Stinging when the cool, faintly scented air kisses your burns…when he lets a fat glob of spit of drip, seep into the fresh cuts.  “He'll forgive you, my little imp…”

- Slick covered lips map their way up your vulnerable form.  Sucking, nipping…biting; leaving an array of dark purple splotches in their wake.  Groaning at the sound of your pathetic mewls and squeaks.  “Look past your rash decision…” 

- Hands tighten their hold; hitching, wrapping your stubby legs partially around his thick middle.  Bulbous tip prodding, smearing pre on your swollen folds.  Mixing and mingling with your juices, creating an unholy concoction.  “Absolve you of your follies…”

- Fingers trace over and along the inked lines.  “But not until you give yourself entirely to me…”  Squeeze, knead your soft paunch.  “Pledge that each child you bare from this perfect womb will be mine…”

- “Yes, I swear,” you whisper, vow.  Tears of pleasure, pain…of joy, sorrow streaming freely.  “My mind, soul, body.”  While you gaze up into the lifeless, stony eyes of the mother.  “Everything that I am is wholly yours.”

- “Amen…”  Your new husband,  co-creator of your future forbiden fruits mutters reverently, solemnly.  Thrusting forward; tearing, ruining…molding you into his own resplendent  image, his own earthbound angel.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @speaknow-sw, @mathesonlvr, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @ann4zw, @xhunnybeeex, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @t03soup

[writingwhimsey]

Married to The Enemy- Shingen Ch. 54

Chapter 54

“Alright, time to call it quits or we’ll end up being late,” Kenji declared as the guys finished the last game.

“Probably a good thing. Lor…Shingen looks like he’s about ready to explode.” Sasuke said, stopping himself from referring to Shingen by his title. It was harder to adapt back to the modern day than he had originally thought.

Shingen frowned at Sasuke, not because of the almost slip. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with a man being concerned about his wife.”

“There’s not.” Sasuke replied. “I just think you haven’t been enjoying this day as much since you’ve been so worried.”

“Yeah, I’d have to agree with Sasuke here.” Kenji replied. “But I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” The way Kenji spoke, Shingen could tell he had some idea, but didn’t seem to want to share it for whatever reason.

The three men were cleaning up and then heading out, making the walk to Mrs. Shiba’s house. When they walked in, Shingen’s nose was instantly hit with a delicious aroma. “Wow, you guys showed up a little early.” Shoko greeted them.

“By the smell of things, I’d say we’re right on time.” Kenji teased his wife. “Besides, this is the time we agreed on.”

“Yes, but I know how you usually are when it comes to games.” Shoko teased right back, poking him playfully in the ribs. “You can’t tear yourself away from them and I usually have to turn it off.”

“Yeah, well someone else was pretty anxious.” Kenji said, pointing to Shingen with his eyes.

“He was checking his phone every few seconds.” Sasuke added.

Shingen felt his face flushing slightly. He was getting ready to ask where Ava was, when she came out of the kitchen. She had a big smile on her face as she bounded over to him. 

Shingen felt himself smiling as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close for a hug. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.” He said.

Ava pulled back to smile up at him. “I’m just happy to see you.” She answered.

“Glad to see that newlywed bliss really is working out for you two.” Sasuke said, giving them both a small smile and a thumbs up.

“I don’t know why she’s acting like this.” Shoko teased. “Girl spent most of our girl time napping.”

Shingen looked at Ava with concern in his eyes. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek. “Did you really sleep that long again?” He asked.

“Yeah…but I’m fine, I promise.” She said, smiling up at him.

Shingen looked into Ava’s green eyes. He could tell she was still tired, but there was also a spark in her eyes. Something telling him that she was…excited about something. Before he could ask her about it however, Oba-san was coming out of the kitchen.

“Are you all going to just stand there, or are we having dinner? The girls and I didn’t spend all this time cooking a delicious meal to not enjoy it.” 

“And don’t forget the special dessert either.” Shoko added, winking at Ava.

Ava smiled. “Right.” She was then taking Shingen’s hand. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Shingen smiled at her. Though he was worried, he could tell he was in a good mood. Though he had to wonder what that wink from Shoko meant about a special dessert. He knew Shoko usually teased Ava about their bedroom habits…but this didn’t seem like those other times. He would hopefully be finding out soon enough.

The group made their way into the kitchen to sit down. Shingen thought the food looked and smelled delicious. Since coming to the modern day with Ava, he hadn’t really met a dish he hadn’t liked. Though the sweets had been his favorites and always would be his favorite no matter the era.

Conversation flowed, everyone chatting as they ate. Shingen couldn’t help but to notice an excited, anticipatory energy coming off of Ava. He also couldn’t help but to notice the conspiratorial smiles shared between the three women. Clearly Ava had something big planned and her grandmother and Shoko were in on the secret.

Shingen leaned over to Ava and whispered in her ear. “What are you hiding, my angel?” He asked.

Ava shivered at his closeness, but then pouted at him…an adorable pout as far as Shingen was concerned. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” She said, not even trying to deny it.

“So you are hiding something?”

“Not hiding…just waiting for the right moment.” Ava replied. She then kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “I promise, it will be worth the wait.”

“Hey, get a room, newlyweds.” Shoko teased. 

“Don’t make us have to splash you guys with cold water.” Kenji added.

“I don’t think it would throw them off at all.” Sasuke said, thinking about how they were in Echigo…and they’d only gotten closer since then. Poor Yukimura was going to overheat and die of secondhand embarrassment around these two when they got back.

Ava’s cheeks flushed cutely and she glared at them all.

“I don’t blame them at all.” Oba-san said. “If I were married to such a strapping man, I would constantly be getting lost in my own little world with him.”

“Oba-san…” Ava said, her cheeks only getting redder.

The dinner went on for a while until the food was gone. The ladies were then declaring it was time for tea and dessert. Shoko and Oba-san had gotten up to get the tea and sweets ready, while Ava reached for Shingen’s hand. 

“Come with me.” She told him, a big happy smile on her face.

Shingen smiled at her and stood up to follow her. She led him outside.

“Where are those two going?” Sasuke asked.

“Ava just has a little surprise for Shingen.” Shoko answered grinned. “We’ll be able to go out and join them in a few minutes.”

“Is she…” Kenji asked looking at his wife.

Shoko nodded. “Yup.”

“I knew it. From what he was saying about her being so tired.” Kenji said, grinning. 

“New what?” Sasuke asked.

“You’ll find out in a little bit.” Mrs. Shiba answered. “Now come on, let’s get the dinner plates cleaned up and the leftovers put away while they have their moment.”

Outside…

Ava led Shingen out to the backyard seating area they had been at before. There was a small box sitting on the table. “What’s this?” Shingen asked.

Ava grinned. “A very special dessert I made just for you.” She answered.

“A special dessert just for me?” Shingen asked. “And made by my lovely goddess’s own two hands?” He was reaching for her hands and placing kisses on both of them.

Ava grinned. “Come on, open it up.” She said, clearly excited about this.

“As you wish, my angel.” Shingen replied. He released her hands and flipped open the lid of the cake box. Inside was a small found cake. On top of the cake, the word “Papa” was written and then a picture of a bear below it. Shingen had learned that in the modern day, sometimes people communicated using the combination of words and pictures. “Papa…bear?”

Ava nodded. “Yes…that would be you.”

Shingen recalled Ava telling him that he was like a papa bear before…but this seemed different. “I…” It then hit him. His gray eyes widening. “Are…are you saying…”

Ava grinned and nodded again. “Yes. Papa Bear.” She answered. She then pointed to herself. “Mama Bear.” Then she rested a hand over her belly. “And baby bear.”

“This…is the most wonderful news!” Shingen declared. He wrapped his arms around Ava and pulled her in close. He peppered her face in kisses and spun her around, a huge smile on his face and his heart feeling full to bursting.

Ava giggled as she hugged him back. “I knew you’d be excited.” She said.

Shingen stopped spinning after a moment more and set Ava back on her feet, but still held her close. “You’re sure?” He asked.

Ava nodded. “Yeah…Shoko was the one who pieced it together. When I fell asleep. I explained how tired I’ve been lately and she said the last time she was that tired was when she was pregnant. So she bought me a pregnancy test from the drug store. They aren’t one hundred percent accurate, but they’re like ninety-nine percent accurate. They’re honestly not usually wrong…plus also the timing makes sense.”

Shingen couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He felt tears stinging his eyes in all honesty. Just a few months ago, he had been a condemned man. He’d been set to die denying himself the things he’d always wanted. Then this angel showed up in his life and brought him back to life. Here she was, making another one of his dreams come true.

Shingen felt Ava’s fingertips brush the corner of his eye. “Shingen…”

He smiled at her. “I never knew I could be this happy.” He told her. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. “Thank you, Ava. You really are my angel.”

Ava smiled up at him. She was then taking his hand and placing it over her stomach. “Thank you, Shingen. We made this little one together.”

Shingen returned her smile. “Yes.” He was giving her another kiss. “I love you, Ava.” He was then kneeling down in front of her and leaning in to place a kiss on her belly. “And I love you, too little one.”

Ava let out a cute squealing noise. “We love you, too.”

Shingen rose back to his feet and pulled Ava into his arms once more.He began to pepper her face in kisses. “You’ve made me so happy. I just…I love you so much.” He told her. He just couldn’t help himself right now. He wanted to shower her with all of the love he could feel overflowing from his heart.

Ava giggled happily from the affection being showered upon her. “I love…you, too.” She replied. “I’m…happy, too.”

“You two might wanna cut that out.” Shoko’s voice interrupted them. 

“That is how you guys got here in the first place.” Oba-san teased.

Shingen stopped his barrage of kisses, but still held Ava close. Shingen eyed the others. It was clear that Oba-san had know. He could tell by the look on Kenji’s face that he knew as well. Or at least this is what he had been suspecting when Shingen was telling him about how tired Ava had been.

“It appears I am the only one clueless.” Sasuke said.

Shingen looked at Ava and smiled. “Would you like to tell him, my angel?”

Ava grinned. “Sure.” She then looked over at Sasuke. “We’re having a baby!”

Sasuke’s eyes widened behind his glasses, but then a small smile appeared on his face. “Congratulations, you two. You’re going to be wonderful parents.”

“Alright! Now that Ava has revealed the big news, we can celebrate!” Shoko declared.

The evening went on, everyone congratulating Shingen and Ava. Shingen couldn’t help but to keep his arms around Ava for the rest of the night. He always wanted to hold her anyways, but right now…he just couldn’t contain the love he held for her. He had given up on this kind of love and happiness and yet, Ava came and gave him every bit of the love and happiness he had always longed for. He felt like the luckiest man in all of time.

Taglist: @limonzu @zulablaise @oda-princess @kisara-16 @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @selenacosmic

@bjorkshire-pudding @eventinelysplayground

[pengychan]

[Baldur's Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 1

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur's Gate. Some inside help from 'the devil they know' would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

Do I want to see Karlach free at last? Yes. Do I want Wyll to be free from his pact? Also yes. But do I want to put Raphael through Some Shit? Absolutely. That's it, really, that's my recipe here.

***

Much like Hell itself, Raphael had rules and principles. Although he had long since memorized all of them, he still had them all carefully written down in a book he always kept at hand. They added up to precisely six-hundred and sixty-six paragraphs; some may find it a bit on the nose, but he always thought it fitting. It kept to the hellish theme, and he always found having a theme to be extremely important. Almost as important as keeping to the rules of the game. 

And the first rule of that game was written large enough to take up the entire page, in red ink, underlined several times for good measure. 

DO NOT LET MEPHISTOPHELES CATCH YOU.

But archdevil Mephistopheles had him, and was not letting go. How he got to him was a question he could not answer; last thing Raphael recalled was being felled in his own home by those treacherous, double-crossing vermin, wielding the hammer he’d taken such pains to craft and which he’d offered them at a more than fair price. He’d blacked out, felt his life slipping away… and then he’d opened his eyes again in the grip of Mephistopheles, who was none too pleased to see him.

“Did you think I would not see? Did you think I would not know what you were trying to do?”

The voice came from around him, within him, everywhere, the rumbling of a volcano and the howling of the icy winds of Cania. Dangling helplessly from the archdevil’s grip, blood blinding him and choking him and dripping from more wounds to count, Raphael had a distinct feeling he wouldn't recover from that slip up. But he could yet try, he had to: this was not supposed to be his final act. So he coughed up the blood clogging his throat, and tried to speak. His voice came out hoarser than he’d have liked, but it would have to do. 

“My liege Lor--”

The grip around his leg tightened, and words turned into a wordless scream as broken shards of bone shrieked against one another. Raphael convulsed, choking and screaming, wings beating uselessly - or trying to, with one wing barely hanging onto his body through scraps of muscle. Then Mephistopheles reached up, and tore it off entirely himself. Steaming blood rushed forth, and Raphael screamed again. 

“My Lord--” he managed, but more steaming blood was filling his mouth, and he could only cough, shattered ribs turning his coughs into a symphony of pain. 

“Your liege lord, yes. Yet you’d try to take the Crown for yourself, and use it against me.”

“I would have-- gifted it to you--”

A roar, and Raphael knew the lie had been a mistake.

“You think you can lie to me? To the father of lies?”

The grip around his mangled leg was gone and he fell, down toward Mephistopheles' maw, towards teeth as long as his arm and made to crush, to annihilate. He tried to slow his fall, to teleport somewhere else - anywhere else - but his powers eluded him, and the only thing to stop his fall was Mephistopheles himself. With a laugh, he caught him with a hand around the waist mere inches from his teeth. He clenched his fist, snapping his spine and crushing something that may have been vital, once, when it was working. Raphael could barely let out a strangled noise.

“I will devour you, and you deserve nothing less. But I will not make it this quick, for your treachery and for the shame you brought to my court. My blood, bested by mortals!”

Raphael instinctively grasped the hand clenched around him; his claws wouldn't even break his sire’s skin. He still tried to pry that grip open, blinking blood away to meet the rubies of malice that were Mephistopheles’ eyes.

“Father,” he choked out. “Please.”

A laugh, low and rumbling. “How he begs, the halfbreed. Sweeter words than any of the tripe you ever uttered. Let me hear more,” he said, and tore off the other wing.

***

“You know, love, just once I’d like to see you not stopping to read every single book we find in every single crate abandoned in the middle of the woods. Or… to open every single crate we find abandoned in caves in the middle of the woods, come to think of it. All these crates have no business being in caves in the middle of the woods. That’s how a mimic is going to get you someday.”

Astarion’s long-suffering sigh made Durge - a silly placeholder name Gale had come up with in jest at the campfire a while ago, yet it had grown on them - smile faintly, but they did not look up from the book. It looked old, pretty close to crumbling to dust, but they could tell the cover had been quite elaborate once. Squinting in the light of the torch, they could barely make out the worn-out title. 

Mother of Flames, it read. Interesting. Something about dragonborns, perhaps?

“It’s a good thing, then,” they muttered, opening the book, “that my immortal lover is here to protect me from mimics with his amazing perception.”

“Mph. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“... Since when?”

“Well, fine, it is absolutely working. Don’t get too smug about it.”

“When do I ever,” Durge replied, smugly. Considering that they had defeated a Netherbrain only a few short months earlier, they felt they had gained themself the right to be smug. 

“You’re worse than Gale, both with books and the absolutely unwarranted smugness. See if I let you in my bedroll today,” Astarion muttered, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it. Even when absolutely nothing beyond mutual holding happened, Astarion had grown to enjoy the almost feverish warmth of the dragonborn’s skin against his. “Anyway, this place is as damp as it gets. If we’re to camp here for the day, I’ll get a fire started.”

Outside the cave, dawn was breaking. As they could only travel at night, Durge often took advantage of it to stand a little in the sun before retreating back to camp with Astarion, but this time they were too taken by the book - which was not at all about dragonborns after all. It was rather short, chronicling the life of a minor human lord in the last days of the Calimshan empire. But the man’s name had been lost to history - and soon enough, the focus shifted on his wife.

… As the collapsing empire was torn in city states following the Year of Clutching Dusk, the Tethyrian clan went to war to claim its independence, and the lord lent his sword. Alone in their small fort, his wife was tormented by visions of her husband’s violent demise in war, one dream of blood after the other. Driven half-mad with terror, desperate to avert this fate, she turned to occult means and soon enough, she summoned not just any devil, but an archdevil.

Durge lifted a scaly eyebrow, and turned a yellowed page as delicately as they could manage. They could already tell this tale was going to be a sorry one; nothing good ever came from dealing with devils, after all - with archdevils least of all. 

They were not wrong. 

The archdevil promised the woman he’d ensure her husband would survive the war and return home unscathed - ‘But,’ he told her, ‘your firstborn child will be mine.’

The desperation of faithful love, the human folly of believing you can outwit a devil! The unfortunate woman signed the deal believing it would be null and void; for her husband was past his prime, and believed to be barren, as both his doomed first marriage and their own union had been childless.

She signed her name, lost to the ages, thinking there would never be any firstborn to give, and she was lost. For what the archdevil’s careful wording hid was the true nature of his demand: that he beget his spawn on her. Bound by contract, fearful for her husband’s life, she could not avert that fate.

Ah, of course. Very archdevil, that. The distinct feeling that the story would end in tragedy was now a certainty: no human woman ever survived the birth of a cambion… and this tale was no exception.

On the very same day the lord returned unscathed from war, the devilish spawn came forth into our world in blood and flames. The unfortunate man returned to a dying wife and a horned monstrosity shrieking on the charred, bloody mattress. He drew his blade to kill it, but his wife stayed his hand with the last of her strength. Whether it was for fear of what may become of him should he harm the child of an archdevil, or out of misplaced affection for her ill-begotten offspring, no one knows. All that is known is that she died shortly thereafter, leaving a broken body in the arms of a broken man.

Both their names have been forgotten, but she would be remembered for a time in Tethyr as the Mother of Flames. As for the devil’s spawn, what became of it is also lost to time. Some said it was killed, or locked away in a dungeon, or sent someplace far away; others yet believe his most unholy father came to claim it when it came of age, and took it to the Hells with him. Perhaps only the archdevil who sired the creature knows whether any of these claims are true, or if the entire sorry tale is nothing but legend, seeping into ancient Tethyrian history.

“... There was a depressing ending, right? You get that look when it’s a depressing ending.”

Durge looked up to see the camp was pretty much ready, the fire crackling and food out, along with a bottle of blood for Astarion. Only one bedroll out, incidentally. They nodded, putting the book away. “Quite. Thank you for setting camp - I’ll dismantle it come evening.”

A grin. “Oh, I hope you’ll do a lot more than dismantle the camp,” Astarion said, all smoothness and charm, the bottle of blood already in hand; Durge mentally estimated that the odds of Astarion actually falling asleep on them the second they were in the bedroll were in the vicinity of eight out of ten. 

Of course, they were correct.

Once they were settled, Astarion asleep against their chest, Durge spent some time looking into the fire. Perhaps the book had affected more than they thought, because soon enough they were thinking back of their brief visit to Avernus, in the House of Hope… and about Raphael. 

He was a devil who played games with mortal souls, so it wasn’t like Durge was particularly pained by the way things had turned out. On the other hand, he had dealt with them as fairly as a devil could be expected to, and they did steal from his home. It could not be helped - only a fool would have let him have the Crown for himself - but it was not something Durge had enjoyed, either. That Raphael would not appreciate being double-crossed was a given. It just had to be done.

They’d thought they had killed him then, in the House of Hope. Later, when they’d seen him in the Orb of Infernal Envisioning - broken and bloody, dangling above the maw of Mephistopheles - they’d assumed the archdevil would finish him any moment, and averted their gaze. 

Except that when they returned a week later, to buy supplies before they set off with Astarion for what he’d dubbed with some pomp their ‘quest for daylight’, they had looked again... and they had seen the same thing. Raphael, reduced to a broken and bloody mess, dangling above Mephistopheles’ maw like not a moment had passed. They’d asked Helsik whether the orb showed current events, the past, or the future; she had looked back and shrugged.

“The Orb shows you what is fitting for you to see,” she had said, and that was that. 

And that, Love, was that. 

The rhyme Raphael had been so fond of surfaced from the back of Durge’s mind just as they were about to fall asleep. But they were tired, Astarion’s body against them a pleasant weight, and sleep claimed them before they could spare the devil another thought.

They used to be scared of falling asleep, but not anymore. With the Urge gone, their dreams were no longer of blood and guts and screams. Nothing more than the occasional nightmare, either way, and no nightmare would come that night. When they fell asleep now, they did not dream of blood. 

But they did dream of fire.

***

Raphael did not know how long he’d been there. 

Time in Cania flew at Mephistopheles’ pleasure, and his pleasure was a fickle thing. It could have been days, or months, or years since he’d awakened in his father’s grip. He did not know. All he knew was that sooner or later, the game would end and so would he. At this point, many would think it a mercy.

After tearing off his wings, he’d snapped his horns like twigs between thumb and forefinger. Something else had been torn from him, something intangible and yet fundamental, leaving behind only his weakened human form. A form that was now in only scraps of clothing and kneeling in a cell, shackled to the ceiling, a scold's bridle strapped to his head holding a spike through his tongue. His last weapon, made silent.

The wardens outside his cell were, however, far from silent. 

“Lord Mephistopheles is going to devour him at last, I hear.”

“Tonight?”

“-- at the feast, as an example--”

“-- can’t wait--”

“-- cambion like us, but he thought he was all that--”

Down came the claw, Raphael enough, and he could have laughed if not for the pain any movement brought him. He dropped his head instead, listening to the fading voice of wardens and the clinking of his own chains. It spoke volumes of how powerless he was now, that no magic was required to keep him shackled: only old, rusted chains. One last insult before the grand finale, and not the kind of finale he’d envisioned.

Here in Mephistar, he was the mouse who’d thought he could outfox the cat.

When the door of his cell opened, he didn’t look up at first. He only closed his eyes and wondered if he’d be able to hold it together when the moment came - if he could at least go to his destruction with some remnants of dignity intact. It took him a few moments to realize something was not quite right, that the steps did not sound like those of a warden. They were too light, too careful, too secretive. He blinked his eyes open when someone grasped his chin and tilted his face up. 

It was indeed not a warden. Before him was a human woman with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a nose that had clearly been broken and healed badly. Either someone was playing an odd trick on him, or this was one of his lord father’s Eternal Debtors. 

“I need you to listen. There isn’t much time,” the woman said, paying no mind to his obvious confusion. “Are you listening? Do you understand me?”

Too taken aback to protest at being spoken to in such a way by anyone’s Eternal Debtor - and held back from doing so by the inconvenient spike through his tongue either way - Raphael found himself nodding. The woman let go of his chin, and quickly put something at one of his fingers. Raphael turned to see a small unassuming ring shimmer for a moment around his finger before becoming invisible - but it was still there. He could still feel the cool metal band even though his hands had gone mostly numb, the cuffs biting deep into his wrists. 

“There is some power in this ring. Not much, but just enough. When you use it, it will allow you to switch places with somebody who’s wearing the matching one. Don’t use it now. Listen to me,” the Eternal Debtor added, and crouched in front of him. Dark brown eyes found his own, and held. “Mephistopheles cannot know you escaped until you’re well away from Mephistar. He and his entire court must think he devoured you, so you need to use this ring at the right moment, as you fall into his maw. He will devour someone all right, and will think it’s you. It’s the only way out of here. Am I clear?”

Raphael had no idea what in the nine Hells was going on, and he was too savvy not to guess that if someone was truly looking to save him, there would be a debt for him to repay afterwards. Nobody - not in Cania, not in Avernus, not in any of the Hells - would simply help someone without gaining something else in exchange. Who would want him alive, and out of there? What had they promised this Eternal Debtor, and what would they expect of him?

Vexing questions, but as had been the case with the many mortals who had taken his deals, the prospect of salvation was too enticing to pause too long and consider other consequences. He really did not like that reversal of roles, but he found the prospect of being devoured by Mephistopheles even less alluring. If he survived it, he could find a way to make things work out in his favor. If he was devoured… well, his story would end there with a less than impressive final act. 

The freedom of choosing the only option left. 

He used that line often. Ironic. He’d never hated irony more.

Unable to voice any of his thoughts, Raphael looked back at the human and nodded. She stared back at him in silence for a few moments, almost as if looking for something on his face , but it didn’t last long. She finally pulled back, and stood. 

“Use it too soon, and they’ll notice the trick. Wait too long, and you’re as good as dead. No pressure, but you absolutely must get the timing right.”

Raphael glared, hoping to convey his thoughts - tell me something I don’t know - through his eyes alone, but she was already turning to the door of the cell. She checked to ensure the route was clear, looked back at him one last time and then she was gone, closing the door quietly behind her. She left him with far more questions than answers, and the first sliver of hope he’d had since he’d been taken down in his own house.

***

“Hope you don’t mind traveling at night too much, Halsin.”

“Oh, not at all. Nature shows a particular side of its beauty at night. Softer, more--”

“Gods, is there a way to shut you up about nature for five minutes?”

“There is indeed a way to shut me up about anything for more than five minutes, Astarion. You know it very well. Made use of it, even.”

“I’d threaten to do it again, if I didn’t know you’d love it.”

“How could I not? Nature made your body into a masterpiece.”

“... You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

As much as Durge had missed traveling with all their companions - what a surprise it had been, getting to see all of them again the previous night! - they found they’d particularly missed Halsin’s company. Accepting his invitation to accompany him back at the Last Light Inn, to see the cursed lands healed, had taken no thought at all. When those two were not bickering, and when all three of them were not making extensive use of their bedrolls, they talked about their other companions and how well they were doing for themselves. 

Durge had little doubt that Gale would do well once the orb was out of his chest, or that Shadowheart would be perfectly capable of looking after herself as she began her journey to learn, once again, who she was meant to be. They were not surprised, either, to know Lae’zel was leading the githyanki to battle against the lich queen as fiercely as ever. 

But Wyll and Karlach… they were a surprise, and the most pleasant one they could imagine. Durge had hoped they would do all right together, even in Avernus, but not knowing it for sure ate at them sometimes. Seeing them whole and well, and even hopeful they could find a way to fix Karlach’s heart to the point she could leave Avernus again - and permanently - had relieved them beyond words.

If there was indeed a way for that heart to be fixed, they were certain they’d find it, as they were certain that whatever devil Mizora wanted Wyll to kill wouldn’t be a challenge. And if it was… well, Durge would be more than happy to lend a hand.

They had killed a devil once before already, anyway.

***

When wardens took Raphael to his father’s grand hall that evening, they didn’t bother to keep him in chains. He was weak, stuck in his human form, and powerless; his legs and spine were broken, as were several of his ribs, and he suspected at least one lung had been punctured.

The chains would give at least the semblance of a devil who could yet put up a fight, be any sort of threat, and his esteemed father clearly saw fit not to give him even that. Let him be dragged, broken and helpless, the rags still clinging to his frame doing nothing to hide his wounds. The only thing they left on was the scold’s bridle, the spike through his tongue. At least his words, Raphael told himself with something close enough to real conviction, were something Mephistopheles feared enough to keep at bay.

The hall was crowded, celebrations loud as always, but the crowd fell silent the instant Raphael was pushed onto the floor, before the pit where his father stood, ever looming and shrouded in flames. Rumbling laughter, and the massive hand was around him again, holding, squeezing, turning his ribs into shards of agony as it lifted him up in the air. An example for all to see. 

“Behold,” archdevil Mephistopheles announced to gales of laughter, “Raphael, the cambion who thought he’d rule the Hells.”

Unable to breathe, knowing full well that he may break if he allowed himself to look down at the jeering faces or at his own father’s eyes, Raphael closed his eyes against the pain and waited. He focused, he had to focus. Not a moment too soon, and not a moment too late. It was his only chance to survive, given that the ring did what it was supposed to.

It may as well have been a jab at his expenses, a worthless trinket to make him think he could save himself after all, get his hopes up for nothing. It was something he may appreciate, and quite a lot, when not done at his expenses.

“All you ever had I gave you, ungrateful wretch, and yet you wanted what is mine,” Mephistopheles thundered. Like wanting more was not at the core of every devil, like hungering for anything beyond their reach was not in their very nature, including his own. Like he, in his place, would not have done the same, coveted the same things. “A waste of my seed if there ever was one. I shall waste no more words on you. Let everyone see what becomes of those who set their sights too high.”

Raphael was lifted up in the air, and he finally opened his eyes. Beneath him, his father’s maw opened up like an abyss, all jagged teeth and churning flame. His hand opened, and Raphael fell. Through the sheer terror of it all, he forced his mind to keep working.

Wait. Wait. Wait. 

He almost waited too long, and landed on Mephistopheles’ tongue with a groan, every broken bone in his body crying out in protest. Still, he forced himself to move; a mere instant before the teeth snapped shut above him, he lifted up his hand. The ring shimmered and that, Love, was that. 

***

“Ah, here you are, my little brat. I’m almost happy to see you. Your unfortunate replacement was getting so very tedious, I couldn’t have kept entertaining him for much longer. He was getting really stupid ideas about the ring I gave him.”

Raphael was almost adorable, really, looking up at them with wide eyes from the middle of Haarlep’s bed. A very large bed, which had seen plenty of use since their return to Cania following Raphael’s downfall. Very often while Haarlep wore Raphael’s likeness, as they were doing right now. Come to think of it, he’d probably felt that, in whatever dungeon he’d been in. 

Ah well. At least it must have been a pleasant distraction from… everything else, really. 

“Not that I wouldn’t love to indulge you, but we have little time as is,” Haarlep spoke again, and reached to undo the straps of the scold’s bridle around Raphael’s head. They pulled it away as gently as they could manage, but removing a spike from one’s tongue had to be rather painful, going by the groan that left Raphael. 

And by the mouthful of blood he promptly spat on Haarleps nice sheets. Pretty rude, that, but nothing that couldn’t be cleaned up once they got Raphael out of there. Sooner rather than later.

“Haarlep,” Raphael rasped. It was likely the first thing he was able to say in months, and Haarlep couldn’t say they weren’t flattered. Or maybe he’d just said ‘help’. Hard to tell, with a hole in his tongue and all the blood in his mouth. “What-- where--?”

“Still in Mephistar, but not for long. Be a darling and sleep, why don’t you? You’ll make everything soooo much easier,” Haarlep replied, and pressed a hand over Raphael’s eyes. He tensed, but only for a moment: it took that short a time to make him fall into a slumber. He didn’t look peaceful in it, not the way he would after sharing a bed with them in less pressing circumstances, but it would have to do.

“Did it work? Is he here?”

Ah, that voice. Haarlep turned, and nodded at the human - an Eternal Debtor, one of the many - standing in the doorway. “It went without a single hitch, I’d say. Don’t you want to come in and say goodbye? After all, it’s been a while since you last--”

“I was in this to spite Mephistopheles, not out of any concern for him,” she cut him off. “Just get him out of the Hells and leave him someplace he may find a healer. I have done enough.”

“Fine, fine. If he wakes, should I tell him--”

“No. Not one word,” she snapped, and was gone before Haarlep could say anything. Ah, those bursts of temper. Highly unusual from an Eternal Debtor, yet so annoyingly familiar.

The incubus shrugged, and looked down at Raphael. The tatters that had once been his clothes would do nothing to protect him from the biting cold outside Mephistopheles’ palace, so they resorted to taking the sheets from their bed and wrapping them around him. Once satisfied his former master wouldn’t be turned into an icicle the moment they were outside, Haarlep picked him up - a hiss of pain, but he did not awaken - before walking to the window. 

Across the windswept courtyard, there was a window that should have been left unlatched specifically for them. It led, Haarlep knew, to the room holding Mephistopheles’ outer portals. From there, they just had to pick one to get Raphael in the material plane. From that moment on his survival would be up to him, and to whatever mortals he encountered. 

It wasn’t much, but it gave him better odds than going down the gullet of an archdevil at least.

Haarlep opened the window, adjusted their grip on Raphael’s body, and took flight.

***

[On to Chapter 2]

[summahsunlight]

The Light of a Thousand Stars, Ch.7

Rating: T

Word Count: 1810

Pairing: Poe/Skywalker!OC

Summary: Commander Dameron and Black Squadron’s continued search for Lor San Tekka brings them closer and closer to danger and exposing the First Order as a sinister threat. A new pilot on the team threatens their tight dynamic and although Poe is trying to desperately keep them together, he knows that at some point Evelyn and Kaleb are going to have to go their separate ways–to find their father and bring him back to the Resistance. Sequel to We Belong to the Stars.

Next chapter! I have about seven more chapters drafted, just working my way through editing them :)

Kaleb watched in horror as blood seeped across Evelyn's once pristine white shirt, as her lightsaber fell from her grasp--landing on the rocky floor with a resounding thud. 

Evelyn slumped against the canyon wall, all she could hear was a steady roar in her ears and the desert seemed to fade away around her. Kaleb had grabbed her by the shoulders and was staring straight into her eyes, but while she could see his lips moving--she couldn't make out a word that was said to her. Is this what dying feels like? 

Something bright flashed in her eyes and she definitely thought this must be what dying feet like, until C-3PO came into her line of sight, and she realized it was his golden plates reflecting in the hot sun. Kaleb yanked something from his hand and then shoved the droid aside. Her shirt was lifted roughly and the roaring got louder her ears, a steady beat of drums, as if they were chanting you're dying, you're dying, you're dying. 

No. You're not; not today, Evelyn. It's not your��time yet.

All at once she could hear everything again, the drum beats stopped, the rushing of blood in her ears--gone--instead it was filled with Kaleb yelling at C-3PO about taking too long to get down the canyon with the medkit--and she couldn't hear the voice in her head anymore. Evelyn let out a strangled sob, startling her brother, "Daddy!"

There was no response; at least not from Luke. "He's not here, Evie," Kaleb said, quietly. "Sit down, let the bacta spray work its magic."

He was here! He was! He was talking to me!

Kaleb didn't seem to hear her, instead he helped her sit as comfortably as she could on the rocky floor, waiting for the bacta spray he'd applied to her wound to work. Once that happened, he'd wrapped the wound in some bandages. For now, they both needed to rest. C-3PO shuffled anxiously near by, the sound of his gears the only thing in the canyon besides the wind.

Evelyn sat there, tears running down pale cheeks as the universe came into focus again. Was Luke's voice the result of delirium from blood loss? Her inner most desire to hear her father's voice one last time before she died?

"Should I go contact the Resistance for medical assistance?" C-3PO asked, breaking the unnerving silence.

"No, not yet. They spray should heal the wound enough that Evie can get back to the ship on her own," Kaleb replied.

"You just don't want Aunt Leia to get mad at you," Evelyn countered, hoarsely.

"She's gonna get mad when we get back. I'm just stalling."

"Maybe you'll get lucky; maybe Poe will get to you first."

Kaleb chuckled, softly. "Treatment is working, Threepio--she's joking around. Give us a few more moments and then we'll head back to the ship."

C-3PO looked between the two siblings. "We are not going to keep going to the Jedi Temple?"

Evelyn felt a pit in her stomach, an emotional pain running so deep that not even bacta was going to help ease it. "Why bother? This whole thing was a giant trap, set up by the Knights of Ren to kill us. I don't think Daddy was ever here, Threepio--at least not recently." 

Her brother's calloused fingers reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Kaleb looked up towards the ruins. "It wouldn't hurt to look around a bit; who knows, Evie, maybe we'll find something interesting."

"Interesting? A Knight of Ren trying to kill us wasn't interesting enough?"

"No; more of nuisance." 

She sighed, heavily, closing her eyes. "Just give me a few more minutes."

He didn't argue, and just whispered, "Alright."

Again it was quiet, the only sound the wind and C-3PO's nervous pacing. Evelyn would have preferred to sit there for hours, but she knew they didn't have the luxury. It wasn't going to take the First Order long to learn that the knight was dead and that he'd failed in his mission to kill Evelyn and Kaleb. If they were going to explore the Temple, they were going to have to do it now and do it quickly.

Kaleb helped her to her feet when she was ready, and led the way down to into the Temple. Evelyn could hear C-3PO behind her, giving them a history lesson and suddenly, she was a kid again--forced to listen to Ben give the same history lessons because her mother ordered them to listen--to make Ben feel welcome on Yavin. All three of them--Poe, Kaleb, Evelyn--had hated listening to those speeches Ben would give. Maybe if they had been nicer to Ben all those years ago, at least pretended to be interested in the same things, made him feel like he belonged on Yavin--then maybe, he wouldn't have fallen to the dark side.

"You know he sent that knight," Kaleb said, picking up on her thoughts. 

"We don't know that for certain," Evelyn countered.

"He's the master of the Knights of Ren--of course he sent that knight to kill us."

"I don't want to argue about this."

"I'm not arguing; the sooner you realize that Ben died that night--the better."

Evelyn shoved past him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She heard C-3PO ask Kaleb if it was something he had said, but Kaleb muttered that he was the one that made her angry. His belief that their cousin had died the night of the massacre had always rubbed her the wrong way. While the rest of the galaxy believed it to be true, their family held it close to their breast that Ben was still alive, that he was Kylo Ren--however, only Leia and Evelyn believed that there was still good left in Ben. Weeks after her mother had been buried and her father had disappeared, Evelyn had gone after Ben. If she could convince him to come back, to return to their family and to the light--then maybe Luke would come back too, maybe the galaxy wouldn't be falling apart around her...

...instead Evelyn had barely escaped with her own life. Kaleb had lashed out at her when she returned to the Capital. She had never seen him so angry at her--just another example of what a disappointment you are to him. To make matters worse, her uncle was just as angry--even Poe was furious with her for doing something so reckless.

Leia had been the only one that understood. And while everyone else was yelling at her for putting her life at risk, Leia was softly rubbing her back while she cried, flung out over her bed. Her aunt told her that she believed there was good in Ben yet--together they would figure out a way to get Ben to return to the light.

Stepping deeper into the Temple, her emotions overwhelming her--Evelyn put as much distance between herself and Kaleb as she could

--------

Poe could sense her approaching. 

It was hot, he was one of the only ones out on the flight pad working on his fighter. The arms of his flight suit were tied around his waist, and as Suralinda moved towards him, Poe took the hem of his tank top and wiped the sweat from his brow.

BB-8 whistled a low warning; Poe smiled, wearily, and pat his droid on top of his domed head. "Don't worry," he murmured, "I haven't forgotten about Evelyn."

"Even your droid thinks I'm out to steal you away from the Jedi Princess?" Sura asked, when she got closer. 

"He doesn't understand; he's just looking out for her," Poe replied with a shrug.

"I don't know what everyone's problem is--if they all claim to know you so well--they know she's been the only girl for you."

"Wasn't always that way; I turned her down when she asked me to join the Resistance."

Sura pursed her lips and leaned against his x-wing. Being a janitor around the base did have some perks--she heard all the gossip and rumors. She'd heard all about how Poe had broken up with Evelyn to remain in the Navy--how he hadn't spoken to her in five years before showing up on D'Qar. She heard all about Evelyn's spicy romance with Jas Dane, the spy who floated in and out of base with intel--and she heard that Poe got so jealous when her ex had shown up that he started an all out brawl at a party. "And they haven't obviously known you as long as I have--because you were in love with that girl even at the Academy."

Poe knew it was true; Sura had been with him when he bought a pair of earrings for Evelyn for her sixteenth birthday. She had teased him, told him that no men bought a girl earrings if he didn't have feelings for her--Poe denied it then, because Evelyn was only 16 and they had been friends forever. "It will blow over--something else will catch their attention and they'll gossip about that for weeks."

She chuckled. "Just like the Academy."

He smiled. "Just like the Academy."

"Commander Dameron!" someone yelled out across the flight pad to him. Poe glanced up to see a nervous tech rocking back and forth on his heels. "General Organa wants to see you!"

"Gotta go," Poe sighed, wiping his hands on a cloth. 

"See ya around," Sura countered as he walked away, BB-8 behind him.

Poe made his way towards the nervous tech, untying his flight suit and slipping his arms inside the sleeves. BB-8 wondered if they were going to have a new mission. It didn't seem likely, considering they hadn't assigned a replacement on Black Squadron for Evelyn. Then again, Poe thought as the tech explained to him that something had come up and it required Black Squadron's immediate attention, maybe we don't need a replacement for Evie. 

Leia glanced up at him when he strode into the command center. She looked exhausted to him--Kaleb and Evelyn being away from base clearly was keeping her up at night. "We have a situation. I know that Evie isn't back yet--but I need Black Squadron."

He smiled, softly. "We've managed without her before, we can manage again, General."

She nodded, curtly, but she didn't return his smile. "And Ms.Javos?"

"What about her ma'am?"

"Could Black Squadron manage with her was a replacement?"

"They can manage, ma'am." Will they like it? Probably not.

Leia handed him a data card. "Good. You leave in an hour."

Poe glanced at the assignment and he could understand the General's reservations. He had his own--but there was a job to be done, and Black Squadron was going to do it.

[chilly-deserves-the-world]

All PPPH Magolor and Chilly Moments Part 3

Magolor betrays everyone and gets rejected horribly. This is all of volume 5's RTDL chapters.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (you are here)

V5, Ch1 (Dangerous Dinner Part 1, Landia Battle Part 1)

While the gang are fighting Landia, Magolor is showing Chilly footage of Kirby battling.

Chilly realizes that this footage is from a previous battle. In fact, it’s from the battle with Whispy Woods on Popstar.

When Chilly calls Magolor out on this and demands he show what Kirby and co. are doing currently, Magolor, in response, leaves the room saying that he’s tired and is going to take a little nap, which annoys Chilly.

While fighting Landia, the gang do a combination laser attack that misses Landia, however Lanida flies into the attack anyway because it was about to hit Dubior, who they defeated the previous chapter.

Meta Knight realizes that this lines up with Dubior’s words that Landia is this planet’s protective deity.

Meanwhile on the Lor, Chilly is trying to get the video footage to display what’s currently going on. A picture of Magolor and Chilly sharing Magolor’s bed comes up on the computer, which shocks Chilly.

When the display finally works, it shows the outside of the Lor. Chilly sees Magolor outside the ship, floating off to somewhere and wonders where he’s going.

When Kirby is about to land the finishing blow against Landia, Meta Knight interrupts it, even more convinced that Magolor has been deceiving them, and asks Kirby not to strike down Landia until they can be certain of what’s going on.

V5, Ch2 (Dangerous Dinner Part 1, Landia Battle Part 1)

Landia splits into four. At one point the Landias attack Kirby, causing him to spit out Dubior. The Landias catch Dubior. Bandana Dee notices this and stops Dedede’s attack.

Meanwhile on the Lor, Chilly realizes that he’s been locked in. As he tries to look for an exit, he stumbles upon a room titled “Chilly’s merch room”  including a clock, pillows, giant plushies, etc.)

Chilly then walks into a room that contains Magolor’s research on Kirby’s copy abilities and wonders what Magolor is using it for.

Back to the fight with Landia. A shadowy figure that is obviously Magolor has placed food out for Kirby as well as an enemy that gives the Leaf ability.

Meta Knight comments on how broken leaf is due to it’s long range attack and invincibility and comments that the person who prepared this must know both Kirby and Landia very well, causing BWD to catch on.

Kirby then defeats Landia and is excited to tell Magolor the news.

Meta Knight says that doesn’t seem necessary and beacons Magolor to come out from his hiding place, calling him the “true invader”.

Magolor comes out holding the crown and praises Meta Knight. He then says that so long as he has the crown hiding his “true intentions” is also no longer “necessary” (using MK’s words lol)

Magolor then puts on the crown, becomes Traitor Magolor and then says that with this he can finally become the overlord of the entire universe!!

V5, Ch 3 (Traitor Magolor, Part 1)

Magolor continues his betrayal speech with “what’s with the weird looks? Fine, let me explain everything”

He says how he lost his fight with Landia and fled to Popstar

He comments on how Kirby listens to rumors, and so he got him to defeat Landia for him.

DDD charges at Magolor in rage, and is quickly blasted with magic.

He then ends the speech by thanking the gang for their help and saying that their reward is…that Magolor will take over Popstar first for them <3

Magolor then calls up Chilly and explains that he will be returning to Popstar so that he can control it.

He then says that since Chilly served him so well, he will specially make him his companion.

Chilly is taken aback by all this (the betrayal and Magolor’s new form) and just asks about Kirby and the others.

After the Halcandrans and Landia help Kirby get back on his feet, they go after Magolor, who sends some Doomers he controls after them, and then brings up his ship (WITH CHILLY STILL LOCKED INSIDE) to fight with.

Kirby recklessly charges forward, desperate to save Chilly. Chilly tries to shout at him to stop him, but to no avail.

V5, Ch4 (Traitor Magolor, Part 2)

As Kirby is desperate to save Chilly, Magolor shoots at him with all the ship parts he found to lure Kirby into the range of the canon on the emblem

As Kirby is about to be blasted, the canon freezes over. It’s, of course, Chilly.

Magolor tells Chilly not to take their (the gang’s) side.

Magolor then proposes that he and Chilly rule the universe together (just the two of them) and says that he’ll give Chilly Popstar.

Chilly naturally refuses, saying that Popstar doesn’t need something like an overlord.

Magolor, in response, shakes, says that he thought Chilly alone could become his friend, cries…

And then blasts at the ship (WITH CHILLY STILL LOCKED INSIDE) in anger and resignation, trying to stop DDD, MK, and BWD from climbing on it. (Chilly is fine)

With some support from Landia lifting the ship and raiding the ship’s kitchen, Kirby and co. do a combination laser attack to finish Magolor off…

But not for long as now Magolor transforms into his soul--err..croissant form--saying that the gang seriously pissed him off.

V5, Ch5 (Magolor’s Second Form)

As the gang are struggling against Magolor’s second form, Chilly goes into Magolor’s copy ability lab to look for enemies.

He finds that Magolor has stored a bunch of enemies Kirby can copy in tubes, so basically he has at least 8 hostages on this ship (aside from Chilly). We see ninja, leaf, whip, wing, mike, ultra sword, flare beam, and snow bowl enemies.

Chilly presses a button on the whippy cage, which beams the enemy to Kirby (and seemingly wakes the whippy up from some sort of sleep).

When whip doesn’t work, Chilly beams Kirby ultra sword, but that still doesn’t work.

Then one of the Landias gives Kirby the Monster Flame enemy and some food.

Kirby then gives an epic speech and uses Monster Flame to defeat Magolor in one shot.

Magolor returns to his normal form as the crown breaks off him and starts falling and crying, saying something to the effect of “...Chilly, Even I…truly…with everyone”, but doesn’t finish his sentence.

Chilly is seen watching Magolor from the Lor as he falls and then eventually disappears and says his name. It’s unknown if he heard Magolor’s last words.

Chilly wonders out loud if Magolor will truly become a friend if/when they meet again, to which Kirby responds that he surely will. Then everyone goes home to Popstar.

Fun fact: No character ever says "Starcutter" (the Japanese equivalent, that is) once in this entire adaptation. The Lor is always referred to as "Lor", "ship", or "spaceship".

[nix-lw]

Lorch Day 9: Rain 

 It might have been a good idea to check the weather forecast before inviting your crush out on a spring picnic. Thankfully, Yrsa didn't mind a little rain.

[quichelewoof]

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

.....Cassandra Woodgrove.....

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

●◉◎◈◎◉● Peaceful | Gracious | Teacher x ●◉◎◈◎◉● “Roads? Who spoke of roads? We go by the moor and the hills, and tread granite and heather as the Druids did before us.” ― Daphne du Maurier

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝ .Appearance. ⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟

When Loria chooses a druid to become one of its many guardians, a druid's fur changes to suit their magic's expertise and Cassandra is no exception. With the vibrant colours of a freshly plucked apple, Cassandra knew her magics calling. Cassandra protects the Fruit Grove in the middle of Darkspine, protecting the world's fruit with her swirling green aura, hiding it from all eyes except her druidic circle. Overseeing the Fruit Grove with bright lime eyes, Cassandra holds an alternate way to unlock Aura in a wolf of her choosing.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝ .Personality. ⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟

Brought up by loving parents, Cassandra grew up to be a calm, peaceful wolf in tune with nature. Unlike most wolfs, Cassandra chose to never hunt and only gathered her food and the bounty that animals would gift to her. Easily able to befriend any natural-born critter, Cassandra is gifted honey from the bees, milk from migrating Bovius and eggs from friendly Nytha.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝ ...History... ⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟

Despite the fact that Cassandra's parents weren't druids, nor her any of her forefathers, once her family had heard that their pup had been chosen as a guardian of Loria, they held a celebration that lasted a day for every year the pup had lived. A festival that comes around every year in her hometown as they cheered on their very own druid, proud of the fact that she was the first of her line to hold druidic magic in her blood. Cassandra is released every year by the Grove to celebrate and reunite with her family, allowing Nylian Glens to look after her Grove.

Despite only meeting the wolf for a day or two at a time, Cassandra has developed quite the crush on Nylian. She only hopes that at the Druidic Dance that comes every decade that he choses her to be his dance partner and daydreams often of getting to know him better.

[nemalifowl]

Lorch day 29: Pastel

[pancakelewoof]

Alice seeks to start her life anew—free of the heartbreak and wistful dreams of a distant love met on the eve of the Nightfire Festival.

Though the wolf she thought would be her life-long mate disappeared, she was left with two darling boys that she has raised with all the love and care she could give them.

Always something of a wandering free-spirit, Alice eventually comes upon Ozzy and his curiously little pack. As she watches the kindhearted wolf care for his charges, a flutter begins to grow in her chest whenever the stoic lupin enters her thoughts. Perhaps if she stays she can finally have the family she has always longed for.

[desnik-lw]

Lorch 8: Dew

For very Lilliputian wolves.

[img id] Digital art of a white, long-legged maned wolf leaping on a gray background. It is done in a clean cel-shaded style. Drawn on top of the wolf in pencil is a hat of comically large, oversized plant leaves. Gigantic dew drops perch on the leaves and drizzle down the wolf's sholder and off the wolf's nose. [/id]