#the legendary only seen once lick

[ruinme-please]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚌𝚔

𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾

[miss-anachronism]

for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!

Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.

I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)

He isn’t sure what to think, really.

They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.

Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.

He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.

It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.

Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.

All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.

Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?

And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.

Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.

But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.

It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.

“Valen?”

He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.

“Lost in thought?”

“You could say that.”

He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”

Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”

He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…

And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.

And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.

Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.

Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.

He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.

[beatinginavoid]

The Mountain

Part 3 of 6. Part 1, Part 2

— — —

Don’t climb the mountain.

The townsfolk that lived at the foot of the mountain often made new signs and repainted old ones. All of the signs warned about the mountain, told people to beware, or blatantly said to turn around and go back.

There were rumours that the townsfolk were trying to protect Bigfoot or some other sasquatch-like being that lived up there somewhere.

This made the town an odd little hotspot for certain types of tourists, and even some film crews.

The latest traveller to the town, dressed in earthy tones, had also been drawn there to try and catch a glimpse of something legendary. The verbal warnings were brushed off. The signs were seen but ignored. Equipment was packed and ready.

“Nothing will stop me from taking this chance!” they resolutely declared.

So what happened when they climbed the mountain?

— — —

The trail up the mountain was very faint but still visible. It was obvious that at some point in the past it had been a well travelled track, worn into the mountain by innumerable feet. Then the mountain had been declared off limits, for safety reasons you had been told.

Safety reasons. Pfft. You don’t believe it, no matter how many times it was parroted to you.

It was just some local thing. It wasn’t actually illegal or anything, so here you were, trudging your way up on the track that nature had been doing its best to reclaim. Good thing your pants were sturdy, some of these plants had an attitude. You pick off a bit that got overly attached and flick it away.

There was something about hiking along a tough path or up a mountain that gave you this great sense of freedom and accomplishment. The air also seems sweeter in these places. It’s a freedom and sense of life that the big cities could never convey to you.

Leg muscles begin to burn at the steeper ascents, but you keep on. Your breathing is faster, heavier, and your heart picks up its pace, slowly getting more aggressive at banging on its cage bars. You push forward – there’s plenty of mountain left to climb and you haven’t even broken out any equipment yet.

About two-thirds of the way up was a cave. The entrance was something of an arch and didn’t face the sun whatsoever, so the whole thing was dark and covered in shadows. It offers a cool place to rest and you decide to take advantage, sitting down and breaking out a drink and snack.

Once you finish, you carefully wrap up and pack away the rubbish. No sense in spoiling the scenery, even if no one would trek up here and see it. Something echoes from deeper in the cave. Tiny little clicks and clacks of stone and the odd skittering noise of critters.

There are probably bats roosting in this cave that might have been disturbed by your pit stop. Once you leave they will settle back down. You stand up and dust off your clothes.

A low rumble echoes down from the dark depths. A cave-in? More clicks and clacks could be heard in slow intervals. They were getting progressively louder. Did you stumble onto the den of a bear?

You take a step back carefully, not wanting to trigger whatever animal is slowly stalking toward you. The darkness hiding the unknown creeps you out, and the scare factor activates your adrenal glands. The adrenaline floods your system. Your breathing gets faster and more shallow as your heart begins to race. Another careful step.

A loud growl reverberates off the cave walls. One more step back. Two brightly glowing yellow spots appear for a second before they rush at you. Something grasps your ankle and pulls hard, sending you crashing on your back to the ground. Your shirt rides up to your armpits and your back is scraped up as you’re dragged further into the cave.

Gurgles and growls echoed all around, and there is nothing you can do but go along, captive of this unknown beast. You close your eyes, not that it makes a lick of difference, and open them only when you come to a stop.

A faint light shines through your closed eyelids. All you can hear is your shaky breathing, the odd drip of water, your pounding heart thumping in your chest and head. Foetid air washes over your face and you open your eyes to see a creature you’ve only seen as stone statues perched atop churches and other grand buildings.

A gargoyle. A gargoyle?!

You can’t decide if this is better or worse than a sasquatch. You wonder if trying to reach for your camera is even remotely worth it. The grip disappears from your ankle and you instinctively scramble backwards, eager to put space between you and a creature that shouldn’t exist.

A stalagmite halts your escape. The gargoyle creeps forward slowly, and this time you can see it in all of its creepy glory. Two large fangs jutting skyward from its lower lip reach to slanted, predatory eyes. Small, ineffective wings twitch and flutter as a short tail with a whipcord tip lashes behind it.

A clawed hand reaches out, one sharp tip touching the sole of your shoe. Your foot starts to feel stiff and heavy and, to your horror, your whole foot and ankle appears to be stone. It scrapes across the cave floor horribly.

It pokes your other foot and it becomes dead weight as well, slowing you down as you try to get around the stalagmite. The gargoyle grins wickedly and easily catches up to you. It pounces and you flinch violently, throwing your arms up to cover your face. You feel a poke on a finger of each hand. You watch as your hands slowly petrify from your fingernails to your wrists.

Your hands and feet are now worse than shackles, the weight almost pinning you in place. The gargoyle appears in front of you again and slashes at your chest, rending your clothes into shreds and exposing the whole front of your torso. You gasp harshly.

The gargoyle pushes you flat on your back and your breath hitches. You look down, but you still see unmarked flesh, not a fleck of stone emanating from the clawed hand holding you down. The beast grins and gives a disturbing growly laugh.

Its hand moves up and down as your heart beats powerfully in fear. It moves the hand, tracing around the pumping muscle keeping you alive. The skin within the traced area turns hard and grey. You take in a sharp breath and there’s an odd feeling as that part of your chest doesn’t move with the rest.

Another tap of a claw and the stone portion of skin disintegrates, exposing muscles and bones. Your brain is screaming at you to move away however you can, but your body isn’t obeying, frozen in place. The claw traces the edges of the missing skin and the newly exposed part petrifies. Another poke and a good chunk of your sternum, part of your left ribs, and all of the muscles in between are suddenly gone. None of it hurt.

There, in plain view, is the sac that protects your heart, along with the edge of your left lung. Your heart is quickly pulsing and you can’t help but stare in fear and wonder. The tip of a claw pokes through the top of the sac and glides down. Both of its hands then ever so delicately peel away the sac, leaving your racing pump fully visible.

Each beat looks, and feels, very forceful. It squeezes, expands, and contracts as if it is trying to punch out an opponent, swiftly and aggressively dancing within your chest cavity. It’s amazing to think this one muscle is so vital to your life, and now you can see it working hard, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of your captor.

A slate grey hand reaches out, clawed digits delicately curling around your heart. The organ is lifted up, the apex now pointing to the ceiling. Your breathing is fast, shallow, and still shaky, your life literally in the monster’s hands.

Your heart pounds harder, faster, doing its best to work around the grip impairing it. It feels unlike any sensation you’ve ever felt before. You start feeling lightheaded as your pump fights against gravity and the blood wanting to follow it, the ventricles unable to fully fill.

A claw tip gives the apex the lightest touch. The pulsing tip of your heart takes on the now familiar grey and heaviness that means petrification. The apex is as still as stone while the rest of the muscle continues to move rhythmically.

The gargoyle gently places your heart back where it belongs and pokes the stony apex. The petrification spreads. So far it doesn’t seem to be impeding any function, but you know that won’t last. A forked tongue slithers from its maw and licks over the ventricles, atrium, and aorta.

It’s one of the strangest ticklish sensations you’ve ever felt.

The tongue wraps around your aorta and gently squeezes, just enough for you to feel it as the blood rushes by. Another tap, more growing stone, and this time you can feel the result. Your stone hands try and fail to reach up to your chest as it suddenly feels tight, a sharp ache zinging from the pump.

Another tap, more stone. Your ventricles bulge with every cardiac cycle as part of them are completely incapable of moving. The muscle is working harder to push out the blood, but you somehow know that it’s failing at the task.

A gleeful grin precedes another tap, another spike of pain. Almost half of the vulnerable organ is rock solid. Each beat causes the top half to violently flail with every distended thump, though the heavy part keeps it firmly in place.

The pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping for every breath as your heart strains under the load. Another tap makes you whimper, the pain increasing. The atrium and flesh halves of the ventricles balloon out with every fast contraction, straining to the maximum to get the job done.

It feels as if an elephant is sitting on your chest, crushing everything under an enormous weight.

Another tap, then another. You are beyond dizzy, your vision fading in and out of blurriness. Your chest is nothing but a sea of pain, poured into a bottle far too small to hold the volume of liquid. You gasp and wheeze, only one third of your heart functioning.

The part that is still flesh continues to pound erratically for several seconds until it stops, fluttering in place.

Your vision turns black and it feels like your throat has closed, no air getting through. Consciousness fades as your heart quivers in v-fib.

The gargoyle chuckles and petrifies the rest of the shuddering pump, releasing your aorta. It grips the statue that your heart has become, every blood vessel seemingly carved with the utmost care by a true professional, and rips it from your chest.

It carries its prize to a section of the cave where dozens of heart statues are displayed on a carved out shelf. It places the newest statue in line and grins proudly, forked tongue licking its lips.

Don’t climb the mountain. 

— — —

3 parts down, 3 to go. I'm having fun finding various supernatural ways for things to end. I hope any readers out there are having just as much fun reading about it!

[trulybetty]

It's too early for this...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader (no use of Y/N & no physical descriptions) Word Count: 996 Warnings: 18+ this is just pure smut - barely read through and posted Summary: do we even need one? click here for the post that launched a thousand thots this morning

A/N: so, @secretelephanttattoo tagged me, amongst others, on this reblog of this early morning thot from @intheorangebedroom and at 5am, after reading that I was not going back to sleep. This is just smut, I don't even know if it's any good - it likely won't ever appear on any master list, so catch it while it's around lol (cc: @rhoorl, @legendary-pink-dot, @for-a-longlongtime & @goodwithcheese because you've been bringing the Frankie thots and I'm just a good fluffy girl who has been corrup- *cackles* even I can't keep a straight face at that bold-faced lie)

Bruised Knees

Your knees still stung from where you’d dropped to the floor the moment the door had shut behind you and Frankie. They’d be bruised tomorrow morning. The tip he’d thrown the driver of the taxi had been a testament to the almost pornographic sounds the two of you had made in the back seat. 

You were pretty sure your panties were on that poor man’s backseat floor too. 

However, your thoughts now were too encompassed with the man before you to worry about any possible embarrassment. Frankie’s back was against the door, your hands running up his thighs you looked up and in the dim moonlight that lit the hallway, you locked eyes as you reached for his belt buckle. 

In a very practiced move, you had both the belt off of him and his jeans undone in record time. The only sounds filling the small space were your combined laboured breathing and hurried hands trying to free him from the confines of the boxer briefs he was cursing for choosing to wear.

The moment he was free you sucked in your breath, it was a wide-eyed sight no matter how many times you’d seen it. Already hard, it sprung from its confines thick and glistening with precum. You couldn't resist the urge to run your thumb over the head and his hips bucked forward in response.

Squeezing his thighs, you brought his attention back to you, locking eyes once more you licked your lips and ignoring the harshness of the floor on your knees you parted your lips and took his tip into your mouth.

The moan he let out broke the quietness as you teased him with your tongue, but it was no match for the guttural groan that came when your mouth slid further down his length. Your eyes still on him you didn't miss the way his lips parted and his breathing grew heavier.

The taste of him on your tongue was enough to entice you to take him further and you hummed around him in appreciation of the stretch your mouth made to accommodate him, the vibration sent shivers through his body. With both hands on his thighs to keep you steady, your tongue flat, further he went until you felt him hit the roof of your mouth.

You paused, breathing through your nose to compose yourself, his hand reached out for your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. You groaned around him as your hands snaked up to his hips for support. Further slick with your saliva he slid deeper still, stretching your mouth even more and you took him until you felt him hit the back of your throat.

Your mouth begged for more of him, while your throat felt like it was going to give out at any moment. You felt your eyes stung at the sensation and didn't realize you'd let out a tear until you felt Frankie brush it away.

Running his hand over your hair to settle at the back of your neck again, he pulled out, spit glistening over the half-length of him you'd managed to take in as he readjusted. His other hand you brought to your mouth, a kiss to the centre of his palm, before your tongue ran up the length of his middle finger where you wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked it in, letting it go with a wet pop.

Lust shone in his dark brown eyes as you brought your hand to your mouth and ran your tongue over your palm. You attempted to take hold of him in one hand, your fingers barely touching as they circled him, your spit helping the twist and pull as you readied yourself to take him back into your mouth.

He was big, but not so big that you couldn't handle it. Gagging at the tip you relaxed before taking him further this time until he hit the back of your throat again, your hand continuing to massage the base of his cock.

He groaned his approval, but you didn’t have time to savour the sound as he thrust into you, your head bobbing up and down as he fed you his length. Whimpering as the tip of him hit the back of your throat you tried to relax, taking what he offered you as you breathed through your nose.

Frankie's hand at the back of your neck tightened as he bucked into you, his grunts and growls syncing with the wet sounds you made as he thrust in and out of you. The sensation of him on your tongue was almost too much, the way he shuddered and moaned above you.

He began to thrust faster, harder, his cock hitting against the back of your throat, threatening to make you gag with each press. You kept up with each push, your fingers digging into his thighs as he moved more quickly and fiercely. By morning, your knees wouldn't be the only parts of your body that would be bruised.

He pushed deeper into you one last time before his grip on the back of your neck tightened and his breathing came out in harsh pants as he came onto your tongue with a guttural groan that made your core tighten looking for its own release.

You swallowed around him, licking him clean as he slipped from your lips.

“Fuck.” He whispered, his head falling back against the door as he took a moment to catch his breath, his hand coming up to run over his face. 

Your eyes flicked up to watch him, his breathing was laboured, chest rising and falling as fast as you thought yours was. It was a brief moment of calm before Frankie dropped to the floor on his knees, and before you could react, your body was on the floor, Frankie over you, his lips on yours and your hands wrapped in the hair at the nape of his neck.

[marta-bee]

Rereading The Hobbit chapter "Roast Mutton," I'm struck by a) how funny it is, and b) how hard it would be to capture that humor in video form.

Bilbo and the dwarves are getting their first taste of camping which isn't really agreeing with them. It's raining and they can't even get a fire started. One of their ponies got spooked and ended up in the river, ruining most of their food stores. They're cold and generally miserable. And then they see a campfire through the trees and send Bilbo off to investigate.

Which is when things get really fun. And, in fairness, the fun goes on for quite a bit. I'm afraid I enjoyed this scene too much not to share it in all its glory; you can skip down to the row of asterisks below the cut if you don't need to read 2,000-ish words of Tolkien hamming it up.

So, naturally, he got right up to the fire - for fire it was - without disturbing anyone. And this is what he saw. Three very large persons sitting round a very large fire of beech-logs. They were toasting mutton on long spits of wood, and licking the gravy off their fingers. There was a fine toothsome smell. Also there was a barrel of good drink at hand, and they were drinking out of jugs. But they were trolls. Obviously trolls. Even Bilbo, in spite of his sheltered life, could see that from the great heavy faces of them, and heir size, and the shape of their legs, not to mention their language, which was not drawing-room fashion at all, at all.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrer," said one of the trolls.

"Never a blinking bit of manflesh have we had for long enough," said a second. "What the 'ell William was a-thinkin' of to bring us into these parts at all, beats me - and the drink runnin' short, what's more," he said jogging the elbow of William, who was taking a pull at his jug.

William choked. "Shut yer mouth!" he said as soon as he could. "Yer can't expect folk to stop here for ever just to be et by you and Bert. You've et a village and a half between yer, since we come down from the mountains. How much more d'yer want? And time's been up our way, when yer'd have said 'thank yer Bill' for a nice bit o' fat valley mutton like what this is." He took a long bite off a sheep's leg he was toasting, and wiped his lips on his sleeve.

Yes, I am afraid trolls do behave like that, even those with only one head each. After hearing all this Bilbo ought to have done something at once. Either he should have gone back quietly and warned his friends that there were three fair-sized trolls at hand in a nasty mood, quite likely to try toasted dwarf, or even pony, for a change; or else he should have done a bit of good quick burgling. A really first-class and legendary burglar would at this point have picked the trolls' pockets - it is nearly always worthwhile if you can manage it - pinched the very mutton off the spite, purloined the beer, and walked off without their noticing him. Others more practical but with less professional pride would perhaps have stuck a dagger into each of them before they observed it. Then the night could have been spent cheerily.

Bilbo knew it. He had read of a good many things he had never seen or done. He was very much alarmed, as well as disgusted; he wished himself a hundred miles away, and yet - and yet somehow he could not go straight back to Thorin and Company empty-handed.

So he stood and hesitated in the shadows. Of the various burglarious proceedings he had heard of picking the trolls' pockets seemed the least difficult, so at last he crept behind a tree just behind William.

Bert and Tom went off to the barrel. William was having another drink. Then Bilbo plucked up courage and put his little hand in William's enormous pocket. There was a purse in it, as big as a bag to Bilbo. "Ha!" thought him warming to his new work as he lifted it carefully out, "this is a beginning!"

It was! Trolls' purses are the mischief, and this was no exception. 'Ere, 'oo are you?" it squeaked, as it left the pocket; and William turned round at once and grabbed Bilbo by the neck, before he could duck behind the tree.

"Blimey, Bert, look what I've copped!" said William.

"What is it?" said the others coming up.

"Lumme, if I know! What are yer?"

"Bilbo Baggins, a burr-- a hobbit," said poor Bilbo, shaking all over, and wondering how to make owl-noises before they throttled him."

"A burrahobbit?" said they a bit startled. Trolls are slow in the uptake, and mighty suspicious about anything new to them.

"What's a burrahobbit got to do with my pocket, anyways?" said William.

"And can yer cook 'em?" said Tom.

"Yer can try," said Bert, picking up a skewer.

"He wouldn't make above a mouthful," said William, who had already had a fine supper, "not when he was skinned and boned."

"P'raps there are more like him round about, and we might make a pie," said Bert. "Here you, are there any more of your sort a-sneakin' in these here woods, yer nasty little rabbit," said he looking at the hobbit's furry feet and he picked him up by the toes and shook him.

"Yes, lots," said Bilbo, before he remembered not to give his friends away. "No, none at all, not one," he said immediately afterwards.

"What d'yer mean?" said Bert, holding him right away up, by the hair this time.

"What I say," said Bilbo gasping. "and please don't cook me, kind sirs! I am a good cook myself, and cook better than I cook, if you see what I mean. I'll cook beautifully for you, a perfectly beautiful breakfast for you, if only you won't have me for supper."

"Poor little blighter," said William. He had already had as much supper as he could hold; also he had had lots of beer. "Poor little blighter! Let him go!"

"Not till he says what he means by lots and none at all," said Bert. "I don't want to have me throat cut in me sleep. Hold his toes in the fire till he talks!"

"I won't have it," said William. "I caught him anyway."

"You're a fat fool, William," said Bert, "as I've said afore this evening."

"And you're a lout!"

"And I won't take that from you, Bill Huggins," says Bert, and puts his fist in William's eye.

Then there was a gorgeous row. Bilbo had just enough wits left, when Bert dropped him on the ground, to scramble out of the way of their feet, before they were fighting like dogs, and calling one another all sorts of perfectly true and applicable names in very loud voices. Soon they were locked in one another's arms and rolling nearly into the fire kicking and thumping, while Tom whacked at them both with a branch to bring them to their senses -and that of course only made them madder than ever. That would have been the time for Bilbo to have left. But his poor little feet had been very squashed in Bert's big paw; and he had no breath in his body, and his head was going round; so there he lay for a while panting, just outside the circle of firelight.

Right in the middle of the fight up came Balin. The dwarves had heard noises from a distance, and after waiting or some time for Bilbo to come back, or to hoot like an owl, they started off one by one to creep towards the light as quietly as they could. No sooner did Tom see Balin come into the light than he gave an awful howl. Trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked). Bert and Bill stopped fighting immediately, and "a sack, Tom, quick!" they said, before Balin, who was wondering where in all this commotion Bilbo was, knew what was happening, a sack was over his head and he was down.

"There's more to come yet," said Tom, "or I'm mighty mistook. Lots and none at all, it is," said he. "No burrahobbits, but lots of these here dwarves. That's about the shape of it!"

"I reckon you're right," said Bert, "and we'd best get out of the light."

And so they did. With sacks in their hands, that they used for carrying off mutton and other plunder, they waited in the shadows. As each dwarf came up and looked at the fire, and the spilled jugs, and the gnawed mutton, in surprise, pop! Went a nasty smelly sack over hi shead, and he was down. Soon Dwalin lay by Balin, and Fili and Kili together, and Dori and Nori and Ori all in a heap, and Oin and Gloin and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur piled uncomfortably near the fire.

"That'll teach 'em," said Tom; for Bifur and Bombur had given a lot of trouble, and fought like mad, as dwarves will when cornered.

Thorin came last - and he was not caught unawares. He came expecting mischief, and didn't need to see his friends' legs sticking out of sacks to tell him that things were not all well. He stood outside in the shadows some way off, and said: "What's all this trouble? Who has been knocking my people about?"

"It's trolls!" said Bilbo from behind a tree. They had forgotten all about him. "They're hiding in the bushes with sacks," said he.

"O! are they?" said Thorin, and he jumped forward to the fire, before they could leap on him. He caught up a big branch all on fire at one end; and Bert got that end in his eye before he could step aside. That put him out of the battle for a bit. Bilbo did his best. He caught hold of Tom's legs - as well as he could, it was thick as a young tree-trunk - but he was sent spinning into the top of some bushes, when Tom kicked the sparks up in Thorin's face.

Tom got the branch in his teeth for that, and lost one of the front ones. It made him howl, I can tell you. But just at that moment William came up behind and popped a sack right over Thorin's head and down to his toes. And so the fight ended. A nice pickle they were all in now: all neatly tied up in sacks, with three angry trolls (and two with burns and bashes to remember) sitting by them, arguing whether they should roast them slowly, or mince them fine and boil them, or just sit on them one by one and squash them into jelly: and Bilbo up in a bush, with his clothes and his skin torn, not daring to move for fear they should hear him.

It was just then that Gandalf came back. But no one saw him. The trolls had just decided to roast the dwarves now and eat them later – that was Bert's idea, and after a lot of argument they had all agreed to it.

"No good roasting 'em now, it'd take all night," said a voice. Bert thought it was William's.

"Don't start the argument all over again, Bill," he said, "or it will take all night."

"Who's a-arguing?" said William, who thought it was Bert that had spoken.

"You are," said Bert.

"You're a liar," said William; and so the argument beg all over again. In the end they decided to mince them fine and boil them. So they got a black pot, and they took out their knives.

"No good boiling 'em! We ain't got no water, and it's a long way to the well and all," said a voice. Bert and Wiliam thought it was Tom's.

"Shut up!" said they, "or we'll never have done. And yer can fetch the water yerself, if yer say any more."

"Shut up yerself!" said Tom, who thought it was William's voice. "Who's arguing but you. I'd like to know."

"You're a booby," said William.

"Booby yerself!" said Tom.

And so the argument begun all over again, and went on hotter than ever, until at last they decided to sit on the sacks one by one and squash them, and boil them next time.

"Who shall we sit on first?" said the voice.

"Better sit on the last fellow first," said Bert, whose eye had been damaged by Thorin. He thought Tom was talking.

"Don't talk to yerself!" said Tom. "But if you wants to sit on the last one, sit on him. Which is he?"

"The one with the yellow stockings," said Bert.

"Nonsense, the one with the grey stockings," said a voice like William's.

"I made sure it was yellow," said Bert.

"Yellow it was," said William.

"Then why did yer say it was grey for?" said Bert.

"I never did. Tom said it."

"That I never did!" said Tom. "It was you."

"Two to one, so shut yer mouth!" said Bert.

"Who are you a-talkin' to?" said William.

"Now stop it!" said Tom and Bert together. "That night's getting' on, and dawn comes early. Let's get on with it!"

"Dawn takes you all, and be stone to you!" said a voice that sounded like William's. But it wasn't. For just at that moment the light came over the hill, and there was a mighty twitter in the branches. William never spoke for he stood turned to stone as he stooped; and Bert and Tom were stuck like rocks as they looked at him. And there they stand to this day, all alone, unless the birds perch on them; for trolls, as you probably know, must be underground before dawn, or they go back to the stuff of the mountains they are made of, and never move again. That is what had happened to Bert and Tom and William.

**********

Peter Jackson gives us his own version

... but it's much more heroic. There's a bit of fun back and forth at the beginning, but there's no personified pocket giving Bilbo away, no bumbling fun of the dwarves turning up one by one and caught offguard. None of Gandalf's chuckle-worthy puppeteering. It actually works much better for th kind of story I think PJ's trying to tell, and I'm not criticizing him for it. Because the humor is so verbal, it's so tied in word-play, and I'm really struggling to imagine it translating well into a full visual storyteling. It's made to be read, or perhaps have it read to you, funny voices and all.

That said, if you've not read the books, I do believe you're missing out an Experience here. I'd forgotten how much I love this bit until I reread it myself.

*************

On a more serious note, I do love how seriously Tolkien takes the risk of provisions running short, accidents complicating things and all that. He survived the trench warfare of WWI, and one of the things that most fascinates me about that period was you were as likely to die from just the waste and utter stupidity of war as from a bullet or mustard-gas. It's fitting that the company's first real challenge isn't an orc army or spying crows out of Dunland carrying news back to Saruman; it was simply "mighty little left for supper, and less for breakfast."

I'm also struck by how the dwarves turn up one by one and in small groups in the book. There's a parallel there between their arrival at Bag End, and later at Beorn's house. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but it happens often enough it seems intentional.

And just because I can, have Jirt himself singing Sam's "Troll Song" from Lord of the Rings. Good morning!

[dailydemonspotlight]

sorry, have you done Neko Shogun? always wondered if that one was just, made up

Neko Shogun - Day 38 (Request)

Race: Enigma

Alignment: Light-Neutral

May 14, 2024

Once upon a time, there was only one cat mascot of the SMT series. The time before Persona 5- the time of Neko Shogun. One of the most popular (and infamous) demons in the series is this warrior cat, whose appearances started all the way back in 1995 in the first Devil Summoner. Since then, this cat has been a recurring demon throughout several games in the series, specifically being spotlighted in the Persona games. Where it came about from, though, is not from folklore, nor did it originate from legendary stories as its lore in the series would leave you to believe. No, Neko Shogun is none of those things. It is a pun.

Now, this will need a bit of context- during the Jiajing dynasty, there was a general who was incredibly popular, to the point of being seen as a god- a man named Mao Bowen, read sometimes as Mao Shangshu. During a war wherein China conquered Vietnam, he was hailed as a hero and held on a pedestal that almost seemed to make him like a god amongst men. Unfortunately, I can't find many sources on this, as I can't speak Chinese? Frustratingly, the SMT wiki commonly doesn't cite its sources, and the wild goose chase this sent me on has only led to many poorly google translated articles regarding this man, so I might have my story mixed up here.

What makes this even worse is that those articles paint a completely different story, but I'm getting ahead of myself. According to the SMT wiki, due to Mao's name being pronounced very similarly to the chinese word for cat, when the chinese people decided to build a temple in his honor, the temple was misnamed into one reading "Temple of General Cat." Now then, what was that about different stories? When you input the word that the wiki uses as the name of the temple, 貓將軍, it grants you a result of a wikipedia page, one that is completely different. According to the page, albeit roughly translated from chinese, the word 貓將軍 actually means "General Cat," and was used to refer to a folkloric figure in Taiwan.

According to this article, General Cat was a mischief-causing monster responsible for ruining many a day of the villagers in Yilan Town, a Taiwanese city during the Chinese/Vietnamese conflict. After people began to become fed up with the little pest, it came down with an ultimatum that they accepted- they would make a temple for it. So this is where the name of 'Temple of General Cat' comes from, right? I think so? The story surrounding this ferocious feline is hard to grasp for someone like me who can't read a lick of simplified Chinese, but as far as I can tell, this seems to be the actual origin of Neko Shogun- a mix of a pun and a taiwanese monster. Where did the factoid on the SMT wiki come from, then, though? I have no idea! Again, frustratingly, it doesn't cite ANY sources most of the time, so it might just genuinely be made the hell up!

My frustration aside, though, the Neko Shogun, interestingly, isn't entirely made up by the Megaten series- I would highly recommend looking further into it and correcting me if you speak Chinese, as my knowledge of this story is heavily barred by my monolingualism. Overall, I don't really know how to feel about this demon, and my opinion has been somewhat soured by my experience with researching it, but damn do I love its design. Neko Shogun, predictably, shows as a shogun, the red fan a typically used weapon by Samurai at the time. It's a cat samurai! And I love it for that.

All in all, while the lore is confusing, I really do enjoy Neko Shogun as a whole. His design is cute, and that's all you really need at the end of the day! 8/10. Please cite your sources, SMT wiki.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey clan was wondering if you could do a fic or hcs about reader finding out Larry is a missingno because they used to live in Kanto?

Yesssss I honestly love that Missingno!Larry theory to the moon and back

.....

Being born and raised in Kanto, you were caught up on the many myths and legends shared around the region. You've done a lot of research on the Pokémon associated with them, believing all the tales to be true.

But while most libraries and websites displayed stories of the legendary bird trio and the feline genetic experiments...there was one particular Pokémon seldom mentioned by even the oldest Kantonians.

One that was so bizarre and otherworldly that it could hardly be described as a Pokémon at all.

That was Missingno.

It piqued your interest, although it took a good while to find people who witnessed this creature...and even longer to find anyone willing to share what it looked like, as no photos of it existed anywhere.

But the responses weren't what you expected, as they claimed to have seen different forms of it.

One person said it resembled one of the ghosts seen in the Pokémon Tower, while a few theorized it was a haunted Aerodactyl or Kabutops skeleton seeking revenge against poachers.

The only thing these accounts had in common was the alleged location of Missingno: along the eastern coastline of Cinnabar Island.

And so you set off on a quest to find it, with your Lapras assisting you in the search as it surfed along the coast.

After some time, you finally encountered Missingno's true form.

It could only be described as incomprehensible--a clump of computerlike glitches forming the shape of a backwards "L".

You didn't even know how a thing like this could exist. But it was real, and you made sure your pokedex scanned it, revealing its number was "000" and some other unusual information about it. Such as it being a Normal/Bird type.

Not flying..but bird.

At the time you were too anxious to catch it, fearing that the stories of it corrupting people and Pokémon were true, and that it could wipe out all the progress you made on the dex. Even Lapras was terrified, as it nearly threw you off its back upon seeing the creature, so you sailed back to shore with the data entry secured.

That was all the evidence you needed.

You've helped the puzzled scientists with studies of this creature a great deal with what you've gathered, although they got ambitious about capturing it themselves and enlisted your aid in tracking it down, calling it "Project: Missingno".

You initially objected to that; they never confirmed it as being a Pokémon, so trying to catch and control something they didn't quite understand yet seemed like a terrible idea...

But to satiate your own curiosity, you led their expedition team to Cinnabar weeks later, following the exact same path that took you straight to Missingno's habitat.

Yet it was nowhere to be found, much to your confusion. Nothing but sand remained.

Maybe somebody else caught it.

Regardless, Project: Missingno was terminated right there and then, and the town's interest in it died down rather quickly. Even the scientists who once obsessed over finding it suddenly dismissed your evidence as "glitches", saying your pokedex was corrupted and needed a reboot.

They were sure quick to scorn you when yesterday they praised you for making a "historic" discovery.

But you knew for a fact Missingno was real. You believed in it.

If it truly was a Pokémon..then perhaps more of its kind were out there in the wild. They might be simply hidden away.

Yet even after you visiting a few other regions, they had extremely scarce information on it..oftentimes none at all.

You began to think it was only a legend meant to stay in Kanto.

Then you took a trip to Paldea to study the Treasures of Ruin and got the most surprising lead..

..............

"Where are you taking--?! Oh...y-you just wanted to eat here, huh?"

"Zarrr!" Licking her chops, your Cyclizar smiled as she stopped short in front of a nice restaurant within Medali City. It was labeled "Treasure Eatery".

"Fancy name." You mused, stepping off her back and walking up to the menu posted outside, reading over what this place had to offer. "I guess we afford some "fine-dining", huh girl?"

Smiling, you patted her head, and in turn she grinned and licked your cheek. "Hahaha, that tickles." You snickered. "C'mon. I think this is the place that can alter your tera type with a quick meal, too."

Surprisingly enough, you've become well-acquainted with Paldea's many customs and Pokémon--among them being the Cyclizar you found. She helped you get across the vast region and out of many sticky situations with the unusually aggressive Tauros herds.

You noticed that the flying taxi cabs carried by groups of Squawkabillies was the main source of transportation, but the idea of riding a motorcycle dragon-type seemed astronomically cooler.

In a way, it reminded you of the bikes you always rode in Kanto.

Once you both entered the Treasure Eatery, you patiently waited behind who appeared to be an academy student ordering something to eat.

But after the host hollered out their order to the chef-

A battle court unexpectedly appeared in the dining section.

You and Cyclizar jumped back in shock, becoming even more confused at what the host declared:

"Congratulations! You've passed the Gym Test! Are you ready to challenge the Exceptional Everyman himself, Gym Leader Larry?"

'Huh? A gym battle...is here??' You were bewildered.

Last time you checked, the gym building was back outside: a tall, bright, and white structure with the logo plastered on the front. But then you remembered that you're not in Kanto anymore, and Paldea probably had its own gym customs.

Ordering a "secret menu item", however, did seem quite odd for a gym test...

Shrugging, you headed further in, securing a spot where the court was in perfect view. You passed by Larry who, sure enough, looked much like any ordinary business man. He was rigid in his movements, and monotone in his voice, even as you overheard him praise the challenger for passing his test.

Everything about him was plain and simple.

Regardless, you were eager to see the battle. So you ordered Cyclizar a dish of grilled fish, while you ate your own meal and watched the fight go down

Larry first sent out a Komala, who was swiftly struck down by the challenger's fighting type, before he sent Dundunsparce out next.

Although it put up more of a fight than the last Pokémon, it went down just as quickly. Yet Larry didn't seem all that concerned with losing, even as the staff and patrons tried getting him riled up, demanding something more exciting.

However, you immediately noticed something quite...off about him that made you do a double-take.

When he tossed out his final Pokémon, a Staraptor, his throw seemed unusually aggressive this time around. And it may have just been your imagination...but you swore on your life you saw a familiar pattern of glitches flickering around him, and his head becoming entirely detached from his body for a split-second.

Only then did you see his emotionless expression briefly change to one of panic, almost physically recoiling at the pain. Though it was quickly masked as he made eye contact with you, before refocusing on the match and terastalizing Staraptor.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but you knew exactly what you saw, as your Cyclizar began hissing and snarling in distress...much like what your Lapras did that fateful day.

It's obvious that she realized the same thing as you..

That Larry's physical body had become unstable, as if he were a living glitch masquerading as something else...

Just like it did.

[legendaryprofessorwisteria]

Hey Prof! Aster here with your weekly 'Raidons and Other DragonsTM' report, this week's report is gonna be long

(Also, to the anon who's gran has the zygarde and is a menace to poachers— I wholeheartedly invite you both to Galar if you and your gran don't already live here. She will have a field day, I promise.)

Anyways

Good news! I got my dangerous legendary liscence, which means the Raidons can stay with me legally for as long as they'd like! It also gave me access to a pokemon I had caught many years ago, but could only have brief interactions with. More on them later.

The Dratini pod has gotten the affectionate nickname of the "Spaghetti Squad", and they each are named after noodles. Three are shiny, and they're the most scared of the bunch— but they've really taken to Koraidon. Koraidon in turn sees them as their babies, it's really cute. I.. might also be seen as one of their babies, as I am currently having my hair licked. Not that I mind, it's pretty normal dragon type behavior.

I got to see the battle form of Koraidon a few days ago, as I was overseeing some sparring between my team members. It's very impressive! The big guy still lost to my Dragapult though, but they're both on good terms. I haven't seen much of Miraidon yet, it's a very shy pokémon. I won't rush them, they'll battle when they're ready.

Now, onto that other pokémon.

When I was little, I got lost in the woods, and found an injured pokémon. I helped it, and went on my way. I didn't know what it was, not until years later until the day of when I got my first pokémon.

I used to go to a trainer school— used to as they actually expelled me over this. It was dumb, but oh well. We were sent into a forested area within school grounds to catch mostly-docile pokémon. I.. wasn't the most liked kid there, as I was a shy kid compared to other people. I was struggling, when one of the more popular kids in my grade came up to me— having already caught a larvitar. I thought I couldn't battle, until it showed up.

The roar shook the trees, and I think I scared everyone half to death. Then the big guy just.. went into my pokeball. Which promptly got confiscated.

That pokémon was an Eternatus. My first pokémon was a bloody Eternatus (A bloody huge one at that). Of course I didn't know the caliber of this until the league arrived. I got a dreepy afterwards, but I could occasionally visit my large friend. Hence why I now live in hammerlocke.

So... I now have them back. EVO is their name, and honestly it's a bit relieving? I also noticed that after I got them back, my eyes changed color to a sunset-y pink from green. Weird, right?

Anyways, here's your dragon storytime. Hope you liked it :)

- Aster

P.S.— Did you know that technically, Eternabeam— Eternatus' signature move— is stronger than Roar of Time? I was told this after getting EVO's pokeball back. Dunno why though... O_O

Hello Aster, it's wonderful to hear from you! Seems like a really fun week you're having.

It's delightful that you got a Dangerous License! The 'Raidons will likely be classed as Dangerous despite their chill temperaments. They're quite fun Pokemon, but rather strong and fully capable of destruction. Also, those licenses are really useful - even aside from personal connections! It's always nice to be classified as capable with Pokemon like that.

And those Dratini sound adorable! Might I ask how many of them there are? Dratini are so cute. The shinies were probably the most notable targets of the poachers, which is probably why they're so scared...poor little things. It's so cute that Koraidon is caring for them! The care of a bigger, stronger Dragon-type will probably help them a lot.

Koraidon, as I understand it, is quite strong! Yours will probably become quite the handful once it becomes more confident and competent in battle. But it will take both of them a while, most likely, and you almost definitely know that better than I do.

And that is...quite the story! EVO seems like quite the interesting Pokemon! And it sounds like you attended a bit of a stupid Trainer's School. I would think most schools are smart enough not to expel a student over an accidental catch, but unfortunately Eternatus have quite the negative stereotypes associated with them, through little or no fault of their own.

That said, it's not every day that one hears the story of someone catching a Legendary as their first Pokemon, particularly one as powerful as Eternatus! What a catch! And for it to stay in that ball, it probably wanted - or at least, didn't not want - to be caught by you. It sounds absolutely wonderful that you got them back, and it seems like they'll be a wonderful Pokemon to you if they remembered you this long. And as to your eyes...some Legendaries, particularly Originals or merely powerful individuals, have strange effects on people, especially those who are particularly suceptible. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise if the change was because of that.

As to your PS...yeah, Eternatus are scary strong. In their Eternamax form - which, lucky for all of us, has only been seen once - they have the highest stats of any Pokemon, including Shards of Arceus! As much as EVO will probably do well with you, be cautious of that power. Eternatus are nothing to mess around with!

[mythbustersfacts]

[Camera pans across the workshop, where Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman are setting up some experiments. The MythBusters theme music plays in the background.]

Adam: [looking at the camera] Welcome to MythBusters! Today, we're tackling a myth that hits close to home. We're testing the legendary strength of our very own Grant Imahara's bones.

Jamie: [nodding thoughtfully] Yeah, we've all seen Grant walk away from some pretty gnarly incidents without a scratch. But are his bones really stronger than average?

Adam: I've heard of this myth! Lets start by smashing Grant's legs with a sledgehammer and see what happens.

Adam hands a sledgehammer to each member of the team.

Adam: "Alright, everyone take a swing at his left leg first. Let's see if we can break it."

They raise their weapons, aiming for different angles on Grant's leg.

With a primal scream, they simultaneously bring the hammers down upon his limb. There's a sickening crunch as metal meets bone, followed by an eerie silence. When the dust settles, they reveal that Grant's leg remains intact despite significant damage. Blood pours freely from multiple lacerations, but he shows no signs of pain or weakness.

Grant chuckles darkly and leans forward, licking the blood off his lips. "Is that all you've got?" he taunts.

Enraged by his resilience, they decide to up the ante. They gather several heavy objects scattered around the set and pile them onto Grant's prone body, trapping his arms and legs beneath the weight. Then, they stand back and wait expectantly.

After several agonizing seconds, nothing happens. No cracking, no breaking, not even a creak. Frustrated beyond belief, they remove the debris only to find that Grant has somehow managed to free himself while they were distracted. He stands tall once more, unscathed and unfazed.

Jamie: This is impossible! How can anyone be this strong?

With a sinister laugh, Grant steps closer to them. "I told you, my friends… I am not ordinary."

Before they can react, he lunges forward and grabs Jamie by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. "Now, shall we continue our little experiment?" he growls menacingly.

Horrified yet transfixed, the rest of the team can only watch as Grant begins to twist and contort poor Jamie's body in ways that shouldn't be possible. Slowly but surely, cracks form in his vertebrae until finally, with a sickening snap, Jamie collapses lifeless to the floor.

For a moment, there is complete silence. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Adam rushes forward and tackles Grant to the ground. They roll around wildly, flailing and scratching at each other like rabid animals. Eventually, Adam manages to pin Grant down long enough to deliver a series of brutal blows to his face and ribcage.

Blood gushes from Grant's mouth and nose as he gasps for air, barely able to speak. Through tear-filled eyes, he whispers hoarsely: "My secret... is... vampirism..." And then, just as suddenly as it began, the fight subsides. Adam releases his grip and stares down at his defeated opponent in shock.

The camera pulls back slowly, revealing the gruesome aftermath of the battle. Bodies lie strewn about the workshop, torn apart and covered in blood. The once-proud Mythbusters logo now hangs crookedly above the scene, its edges charred black from explosions and fires. A single word echoes through the silent void: "VAMPIREMICS".

[sunshine-scented]

Okay this might sound weird but forbidden love trope with sun Wukong, macaque and redson, to be more specific maybe the readers family doesn't trust the monkey bois becuz of their past and for the redson maybe a family fued if you don't mind! Thanks~

Mhnn it's not weird at all ♡. It's adorable on how you think puhuhu~

❀ Got a secret, can you keep it? ❀

: Forbidden love life

: Sun wukong, Macaque, Red son x gn! Reader

: Fluff and a bit suggestive on Macaque's part, though, I don't think you'll mind~♡

Sun wukong

Your parents despise the monkey King with a burning passion

Even though he's know to be a heroic idol to many, that doesn't mean that he's a relatively good person

By that they mean that even if he's heroic, that doesn't change the fact that he's a childish mischievous trickster, completely irresponsible and just a nuisance

They don't want to tell you any stories about him for they fear that you'll idolize and be just like him

So imagine his shock when you confronted that you literally had no idea of him on one of your nightly dates

Utter silence, which was concerning cause this is WUKONG!

And then he won't stop babling about how amazing he is, like dude, stfu

Night dates were to be expected for the both of you

While he's disappointed that he can't show off that yes, you are dating the legendary monkey King: great sage equal to heaven

He doesn't want to lose you either

Never

So he'll gladly do so if it means that he could see you smile and laugh at his dumb jokes

However, that's only if you're living on the same house as your parents

If you have your own house, then it's like a normal relationship (although, I don't know how normal a relationship is with a monkey humanoid but go off)

Once your parents come visit you, he's banned for being near because you don't want the two of you to get caught

Which sucks cause he's literally clingy as hell

So when they finally leave for a TWO DAY STAY he cries and whines about how being away from you was, and u quote, "worse than living on a furnace for 9000 years"

"Oh? So you're saying that you'd like to revisit that memory?"

"I- WHEN DID I EVER SAY THAT???"

Six eared Macaque

To your parents, he's seen as a self centered and egotistical bastard who only wants to make people do the things he wants

But they aren't as worried like with Monkey King cause he's presumed dead

Though ever since that there's now word about how he's seen on the streets and defeated a shadow demon of some sort

Your parents are literally on high alert right now

When he knew about that he isn't really welcomed on your family, it kind of hurt a bit but he brushed it off literally right after

I mean come on, who needs those extras when he could have the main course ♡

And plus he could easily skidaddle into the shadows once necessary, plus, it's cute on how to try to lie your way out of your parents when they ask who you were talking too

Very smug about it as well and literally won't stop bringing it on topic when he gets the chance

Also likes to use this whole forbidden love thing as entertainment

When you're on family gatherings, you could feel a head lay on your lap below the table, and met with cheeky eyes staring right at you with a finger on his lips

It was fine until you start to feel hands all over your legs and soft purring vibrating through them

As much as you wanna coo on how touchy he was being for not seeing you in only 10 minutes, you had to stay still or your family will catch on

This continued on and was durable

Until he started to nibble all over you

Even so as to pulling your non dominant hand below the table and nibble on that as well, with little licks from here and there

This man was just begging for attention, and it was getting harder to compose yourself

When that whole, torturous, ordeal was over. You scolded him for almost getting you two caught

But then he just shut you up with a kiss and forced you down the bed to cuddle (what did you think he was gonna do? Kikiki)

Red son

Everyone knows of what the Demon Bull King's family did to the streets and almost tried to concur the world so it's no surprise their so hyper aware on them as well

Red's also a tad disappointed that he can't show off to your parents but that didn't matter, as long as you're there then he's happy

In a way, you guys have this Romeo and Juliet type of relationship

You sneak out to visit and go on dates with him, late night conversations and maybe just laying below a tree in each other's arms while he complains about how annoying his friends are

Turns out they were the ones who forced him to confess first and it's really made you laugh while his face blew up in red

He really likes to hold you in his arms in very calm and just moments where your presence is enough to still the whole world

Your parents often wonder why you keep staying up late and getting more exhausted by the morning, but you just excused on saying you're doing projects

Didn't really satisfy them that much cause you were just constantly on your phone smiling and often ushered them outside of the room when it was night time

But before they could even ask, you once again brushed the dirt under the carpet and led them outside of your room again

Letting out a sigh in relief, you excitedly turn to your phone and checked your messages

"How would you feel if we went to get some ice cream tonight?"

"That would be wonderful ♡"

Meanwhile, he's now grinning and immediately starts to walk towards your house, bouquet in hand

I apologize if this wasn't to your liking, some issues were present so I wasn't really in the mood for love :((

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[comphy-and-cozy]

happy 500! love love love your jt writings 💗 can I pls request #56 with him? tysm

hi love! thank you so much ☺️ I combined this with another request from anon for #118 bc they fit so perfectly together 💕

finishing up my 500 followers celly

Prompts: #56 “Just marry me already” / #118 “This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you”

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f)

Word Count: 717

Warnings: Alcohol use, one (1) suggestive comment, otherwise just some really sweet simp-t Compher

While you had a vague idea of what to expect from JT’s day with the Cup, you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into.

Right from the start, the bar was set high, with Val’s legendary homemade chocolate chip pancakes served right out of Stan himself. Getting to see JT with his family and friends, and the fans of Northbrook coming out to celebrate not just the Colorado Avalanche, but him, filled your heart with so much love and admiration, proud not even close to doing the feeling in your gut justice.

You’d just recovered from the post-Cup win bender that you and JT had been on in the few days following the win, needing a break from alcohol after several days of non-stop drinking and celebrating. But today is a new day, and your liver is feeling refreshed, just in time for the Comphers to take on Chicago.

You’re at a bar in one of the final stops of the night. Beer and champagne are flowing steadily, the music is loud, and Stanley is shining. JT is the star of the show, never straying far from his prize, but he’s also never far from you.

Eventually, you get roped into doing a Cup Chug, as he’s dubbed it, groaning slightly as you watch him crack open a can of Bud Light and pour it inside the bowl.

“On your knees, baby,” he winks, earning a sharp, ‘Joseph!’ from his mother.

With a laugh, you follow his instructions, kneeling on the ground in front of him; in any other context, this would be quite suggestive, if not for the 35 pound trophy sitting beside you. JT picks up the Cup, pressing it to your lips and tilting it slowly so you can chug the beer sloshing inside. Cheers and chants surround you, fueling you on despite the way the carbonation burns your throat.

JT pulls away, and you swallow the last gulp, grinning up at him.

“God, you’re perfect.”

You wink. “I know I am.”

You’re licking the excess beer off your lips, standing up to your feet when he blurts out, “Just marry me already.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, pausing to stare at him. “J —”

“I’m serious.”

With a giggle, you brush him off. “Okay, JT.”

“I’m serious!”

“You’re drunk,” you say pointedly, “and running on energy from this insanely incredible daydream of a day.”

JT moves to stand in front of you and look you in the eye. His hands slide down your arms until they reach yours, holding them in his own. You watch in shock as he kneels, getting down on one knee. “This isn’t adrenaline. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears fill your eyes as the moment rushes to you, all at once, emotions flooding you so quickly that you barely even hear him when he reaches in his pocket to reveal the ring box and say, “Will you marry me?”

The question is hardy out of JT’s mouth before you’re jumping into his arms, tears streaming down your face as you sob “Yes!” into his shoulder. His arms wrap themselves tightly around you, a celebratory embrace like he does to his teammates after a goal, except much, much better.

“I love you, J.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

He’s grinning when he pulls away, the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face — and he’s had a lot to smile about lately. He takes the ring from the box, a beautiful diamond, and slides it onto your finger: a perfect fit.

You stare at it, overwhelmed with emotion and elation, and you lurch forward to kiss him if only to communicate everything you can’t find the words for. He’s smiling against your lips as he kisses back, accepting your silent I love you, I love you, I love you.

It’s only then that you realize that there are other people around — a lot of other people around — and you pull away from him to realize the entire crowd has surrounded you, cheering loudly. All of it is entirely unreal, celebrating your boyfriend — fiancé’s — day with the Stanley Cup, and now a brand new sparkling diamond glinting on your finger.

Needless to say, JT’s day with the Cup was one for the books.

[onceupona-chaos]

Cassian and Azriel's reactions to the Archeron sisters

Everything will be supported by the text. English is not my first language, so sorry for any possible mistakes. Be kind and respectful!

I will begin this post with the scene that was the starting point of my thoughts.

The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink.

Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket.

Very often Azriel and Cassian show the same reaction to the sisters (in this case, they go still). The scene above is a perfect example of that and of how SJM is always very faithful to the differences between the couples: there's a difference of personality, which will be the one I'll focus here, and of "romantic status". Differently from Nessian, Elain and Azriel were in love with different people when they met each other. We don't know what was their first impression of each other yet, but with this in mind and considering their personalities, makes sense that they needed to get close first, trust each other, and then develop feelings (SJM writes slow burns after all).

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

In their very first meet, the males were paying attention to each Archeron, but the way they were focusing on them is different. Look at the wording:

sizing up, warrior, opponent;

attention, polite smile;

While Cassian and Nesta "size each other up like opponents" and are loud/rough in terms of personality, Azriel and Elain are both quieter and acting like peacemakers. Here, please remember Feyre noticing how their personalities are similar:

Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.

Basically while Cassian is always provoking Nesta, Azriel puts Elain at ease, because there's a difference of personality. It makes perfect sense that one of them is "enemies-to-lovers" and the other is "friends-to-lovers". Let's go back to the first scene:

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn Nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. “Ready for some flying, Nes?” “Don’t call me that.” The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

Even though Cassian and Azriel's first instinct is the same (they go still), how they proceed is again different (Azriel extends his hand like a gentleman and Cassian is all cocky grins).

Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. (...) “I told you to come to training,” Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” (...) “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Just like Cassian, Azriel offered a blade to an Archeron sister so she could defend herself. Again, let's look at the wording:

Cassian pressed the one of his knives;

Azriel pressed the hilt of the legendary blade;

And again, Cassian: cocky, provokes Nesta; Azriel: softly, gently, puts Elain at ease. Of course, in the TT scene there's much more imagery (Light and Dark/ Death and the Fawn/ the fact that TT is not just one of Azriel's blades), but still both males have the same reaction when Nesta and Elain are about to face danger: they need to be able to defend themselves, so the males provide a blade.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

They were speaking, Azriel with some urgency, but Cassian didn’t hear him, heard nothing but the roaring in his head before he said to no one in particular, “I’m going after them.”

They also have the same reaction when the sisters are in danger. As I said before: their first reaction is very similar or even the same in some cases. The major difference here is that we have Cassian's PoV and not Azriel's, but the similarities are so clear:

Unspoken debate = said to no one in particular

I'm getting her back = I'm going after them

Firstly it seems the males are lost in thoughts, so concern about the females, and then they declare they're going to rescue them.

“Do you know,” Cassian drawled to her, “that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?” Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him, still outraged—but hinted with incredulity.

“What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him.

It is also very interesting to notice how Cassian and Azriel are the ones that can intervene when the females are "experiencing" their powers. It's like Nesta and Elain use them as some kind of anchor - they both are "lost" in their powers, but can focus on Cassian and Azriel. If Cassian can help Nesta do a scrying, it's Azriel who listen and gets that Elain is a Seer.

Now one of my favorite parallels:

“Are you … happy?” Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “I’m getting there.” A halfhearted answer. (Cassian, ACOFAS)

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. (Azriel, ACOSF)

Exact same wording. In ACOFAS, Cassian was struggling with his situation with Nesta, and in ACSF it's Azriel who is suffering because of his situation with Elain.

Speaking of ACOFAS, let me highlight this moment:

Nightmares about the moment when Cassian was near death and Nesta was sprawled over him, shielding him from that killing blow, and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

I just find very interesting how the two biggest moments between the couples are brought up here. SJM could had just said Elain killed the king with TT, but she chose to associate that moment with Azriel (she does that very often). Anyway, moving on...

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Cassian and Azriel looked to Rhys, who merely sipped from his own wine.

Here, we have the males reacting to the females getting involve with the Trove (Azriel stiffened/ Cassian growled); then Amren speaks with Cassian about Nesta, and with Azriel about Elain; then both males look to Rhysand

And of course (I'll be brief because there are lots of posts about these lines):

Stupid, stupid, stupid— He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his—

It was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what her skin tasted like (...) Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

In both bonus chapters, Cassian and Azriel "don't care" about the possible problems and struggles, all they care about is the female before them. Not only the wording is the same, but in both cases the couples almost kiss.

That's the formula right there.

(Her scent) It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head.

Her arousal drifted up to him and his eyes nearly roll back into his head at sweet scent.

Basically the way these two are affected by the Archeron sisters is practically the same in both bonus chapters. Speaking of that:

I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.

Cassian in the next morning was still affected by what happened in Wings & Embers, and Azriel - three days later - was still affected by what happened in his bonus chapter. Not only that: these are the only direct references to the bonus chapters in the actual books. The major difference here is that SJM wrote Elain as Azriel's secret, so only the readers that have access to the bonus chapter know why he couldn't even smile (very similar to "Cassian only snarled"). Naturally there's a difference of personality, too: Cassian snarling, totally pissed off/ Azriel more aloof, stone-faced.

It's very clear the direction SJM is going.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you to @lost-immortality​ for commissioning this Death God Sans x Reader (plus a special guest~) piece! This was a joy to write!

The Mouth of the Underworld was legendary, to say the least.

It made sense that you’d want to see it, even just one time. When you entered and left the Underworld, it was through Sans’ ability to instantly bring himself anywhere he wanted, not via the Gates that separated the mortal world from that of the dead. Sans had been somewhat confused as to why you wanted to visit it (“not much to see, my love, it’s just a cave.”) but he’d been willing to take you. 

He was... concerned, however. If that was the right word for it. Because of what was guarding the Gates.

Cerberus.

Sans had raised the issue that it may not be a good idea to come to the Gates while the legendarily foul-tempered hellhound was present. He mentioned that Cerberus, while at the place he had unfailingly guarded for thousands of years, tended to become aggressive and overzealous; dangerous to be around, even for deities who normally had nothing to fear. Cerberus didn’t quite strike as much fear into the hearts of Gods and mortals as Sans... but that wasn’t a particularly high bar to cross- and it didn’t mean the creature was exactly beloved either. 

He was the reason Souls without Sans’ permission never made it out of the depths.

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I know you’re nervous but there’s no danger. I’m certain I’ll be safe if you’re with me, Sans...”

“you aren’t subtle. i know you’re trying to manipulate me.”

“It’s working.”

“yes, it is.” He stood from his desk, cloak manifesting from the silver brooches at his shoulders and flowing down his back like wine from a goblet. “we should go now, if we want to arrive before mortal sunset.”

...

It was an absolutely beautiful cavern. A cathedral-like white cave, pillars and signs of worship carved into the stone, sun beaming in from the cavern mouth... great ancient boughs of wisteria wound up the walls and ceiling, hanging thick grapelike bunches of violet and lilac flowers that filled the air with a sweet floral scent and carpeted the ground in soft purplish petals.

... And there he was. Cerberus... asleep as far as you could tell (thank the stars). Far, FAR larger than you’d expected- big enough to be mistaken for some kind of titan or hydra, enough to easily swallow unfortunate men whole. A looming skeletal dog; three great crowned heads, skulls bearing terrifying sword-teeth, the length of his body decorated with scars from years of defending the mouth to freedom. He was laying with his body blocking the mouth of the cave... you briefly wondered how many people had this silhouetted image as the last thing they saw before being violently sent back to the depths of the Underworld.

...

One of his heads, the middle one, opened a socket. Not asleep anymore. You flinched back- Sans placed a steadying touch on your shoulder, no doubt used to people fearing the Guardian. Cerberus had lights in his deep void eyesockets, like his master; observant and sharp as they rolled to land on you. How many Souls had he seen come and go? A single breath from one head sent up a cloud of petals.

Something new... 

... As if the central head had whispered to the others, the other two lifted and glared across the cave at you... you were safe with Sans, right? Right. You backed into him even more and he moved his hand to your forearm. Part of you wanted to ask a thousand questions, is this normal, are we fine? but the other parts of you didn’t dare speak in case it agitated the monster.

... Cerberus fully raised all three heads, dragged his clawed feet underneath him, he’s standing? The sound of bone scraping against rock filled the seemingly endless chamber, petals tumbled down from his shoulders and off his back, he must’ve been there for years... he turned...

...

... And leapt toward you. 

You were certain for a moment that he intended to crush you under one humongous paw but, to your shock, as he moved through the air he shrank. When he jumped he was a beast with teeth as big as your head...

... And when he landed in a light shower of petals, just before you, he was merely the height of a lion, his shoulder perhaps at your waist height. The guardian of the gates stood before you...

... Then barked, play bowed, and rolled onto his back.

...

You immediately gasped, dropping onto your knees out of Sans’ hold, rubbing the exposed ribcage like you were ruffling fur. Cerberus’ first head stuck out a glowing blue tongue, and the middle one barked again, skeletal tail thudding against the ground fast enough to resemble a heartbeat.

“Oh my goodness, you’re just... so fearsome, aren’t you?” You cooed, scratching his ribs. “The stories were right, I’m terrified! Are you the scariest beast in all three realms? Yes you are, yes you are...”

Cerberus eventually rolled back over again, jumping up, pushing his middle head against your face- you couldn’t help but laugh, enthusiastically petting him, and the first head insistently pressed against you too to the point where you would’ve gotten bowled over if you hadn’t quickly readjusted your footing to dole out attention to both.

... Sans chuckled. You were hardly paying attention to him. The third head, apparently a little calmer than the other two fussing you, lifted to greet Sans at your side.

“first you steal my heart,” Sans said, giving Cerberus’ greeting head a small, affectionate scratch on the jaw. “then a place in my bed. and now you steal my hellhound... honestly, when are you going to let me rest?”

“Never.” You wrapped your arms around the two close heads. “This is my puppy now, I’ll fight for him.”

“no need. you seem to be his favourite.”

As if to confirm Sans’ observation, you were gifted the blessing of a very gross lick on the side of your face by the head that’d just returned from greeting his master. 

... You soon realised a predicament- something that was, perhaps, the greatest tragedy that could befall you. It made your heart drop. You turned, looking up at your betrothed, rubbing one of the insistent noses that pressed against your cheek. 

“Sans. You can curse people, right?”

... He raised a curious brow. “... yes.”

“Find whichever horrible monster decided I could only have two arms, and give them the worst curse you have.” Two arms, three heads... injustice. “They need to suffer unendingly for their cruelty.”

“i’ll see to getting that done for you, love.” He teased. “until then... cerberus is one being, so i’m sure he won’t mind your predicament. he seems happy to receive the attention, regardless of the head.”

“You’re really going to look at this adorable creature and tell me you don’t want to pet every head at once?”

Sans laughed, seemingly unable to help himself, a beautiful dark sound. You weren’t sure if it was your adamancy to bestow love on Cerberus, or your declaration that he was ‘adorable’ that apparently entertained him so much... but it always felt nice to make Sans laugh.

“... Hey. Now that I think about it... looks big and scary, is feared through both heaven and earth, but is secretly adorable and gentle... you two are more alike than I thought you’d be!”

“come now. you can’t be saying things like that.” He smirked. “i have a reputation to uphold.”

You held Cerberus’ most affectionate head, the first, and pressed a kiss to his skeletal muzzle as revenge for his gross lick.

“... I know you said he comes and goes from the palace as he pleases... but I really hope he follows us. Otherwise I’m going to have to come here every single day.”

... You were half joking, in your dedication to return to see your new dog. But luckily for you, you didn’t need to make the journey- Cerberus, the ‘untamable’ monstrous hound, wouldn’t leave your side for a moment and loyally followed you and Sans all the way back to the palace, barking and wagging his tail the whole time.

...

Well. Now that made two ancient underworld-dwelling skeletal godmonsters that developed an instantaneous affection for you. Maybe you had a knack?

[princess-of-riviaa]

Wicked Rose

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Rosa Malvada (OFC)

Summary: Geralt is sent on a mission that sends him to the doorstep of vampire Rosa Malvada. Steamy smut insues.

Warning(s): dirty talk, biting kink, SMUT, blood, both characters are very dominant

Word Count: 3092

There were countless reasons to enjoy an immortal life. The power was intoxicating--there was no greater feeling than knowing you were the greatest threat in any given room. The access to knowledge that stretched across every part of the realm, the secrets that stayed trapped within country borders--all of it there for you to revel in. But the greatest thing of all, the thing that brought satisfaction even in the darkest of nights, was being the kind of monster everyone believed vampires to be.

A regular vampire proved to be a challenging opponent, even for a skilled warrior. The Higher Vampires were impossible to kill. With their wit and strength, they ran circles around mortal men. Not even the legendary witchers could end them; only a Higher Vampire could kill one of his brethren, which had only happened twice in all of history. And Rosa Malvada, Princess of the Higher Vampires, was the most feared and powerful of her entire clan.

Geralt of Rivia, the most famous witcher along the west coast, had been stalking her for three days now. He’d been careful, calculating every movement before he made it. It was cute, actually, how much effort he put into being stealthy. Little did he know Rosa had noted his presence within the first twenty minutes of his days-long hunt. She’d considered draining the blood from his body and burying him in some forgotten part of the woods. Who was he to think that a centuries-old Higher Vampire--a princess of their clan--wouldn’t note his presence? How dare he think she would fall into his trap! But she’d been curious. She’d never seen a witcher hunt, and it had been appealing enough that she’d played the part of a happily oblivious vampire, letting him follow her from town to town, never letting him realize that she was drawing him ever closer to her nest.

The night of the full moon, Geralt had decided to make his attack. He’d been smart enough to drink one of those witcher elixirs he kept on his body--a wise precaution she had to give him credit for. But even that magical potion couldn’t take her down. Not before she found out why he’d been hunting her. Not before she’d have her way with him.

His boots were near-silent as he strode through the abandoned halls of an ancient castle along the coast of Temeria. It had been Rosa’s home since an ancient royal family had decided to abandon it due to the rumors of an evil vampire lurking in the halls at night--a rumor that had proved true, since Rosa had been sloppy enough to leave behind a mess of the guards’ bodies she’d drunk from. The family had been so scared they left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The belongings they’d left behind were now part of Rosa’s trove.

Geralt pulled out two swords from his back, careful to make his movements as silent as possible. His ears perked up at every breath of the wind. That witcher elixir had heightened his senses, Rosa realized, and if she wasn’t careful, her game of cat and mouse would come to an end much too soon. She watched from the shadows as he stopped at the end of a hallway. He looked like a mountain in all that black armor--a mountain she wanted to climb. The sight of him was distracting--

Until he cocked his head, a predator finally spotting his prey.

“The shadows won’t hide you from me.” He spoke in a whisper, but Rosa heard him perfectly, as if he’d whispered the words in her ear. Rosa stood in a corner of darkness, and with thirty feet of distance between them, she thought it would have been harder for him to spot her. She was impressed.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” she purred in response, moving through the shadows so he could catch a glimpse of her blood-red eyes.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he admitted as he turned to face her. That perfect face was paler than usual, enough so the veins under the surface of his skin were visible. And those eyes--darker than the shadows that now cloaked Rosa. He was the pure embodiment of death.

Rosa had never wanted a man more.

“Then what are you doing here?” She forced her tone to remain clipped, despite the desire starting to pool between her thighs.

“A descendant of the family who once lived here,” he began. “He’s paid me to return a lost family crest to him.”

Over her dead body. “Everything within these walls belongs to me. If they wanted some family crest, their ancestors should have brought it with them before they fled this place.”

“I’ve been paid to finish the job,” he insisted.

“Whatever amount they’ve promised you, I’ll double it.” She had more than enough gold to spare. Make enough calculated kills, drink from the right kind of people, and inheriting chests of gold becomes as easy as breathing.

“Come out of the dark. Maybe I’ll consider your offer.”

“Drop those blades,” she compromised, “and I’ll go anywhere you want, Witcher.”

Metal clinked against stone, a riotous sound amongst the silence of the dead castle. Geralt’s hands went slack at his sides. It was a mirage. An act of relaxed calm hiding a hunter about to pounce.

Rosa was precise with her movements, careful to never move within his reach even as she evaded the cover of darkness. His eyes slid along her body so sensually that her body burned everywhere he looked. It was almost enough to get her to step towards him. Almost. She lifted her chin higher, confident in the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts that he now took in. Blood-red hair curled down her back, stark against the white dress she wore.

He sniffed audibly before muttering, “I didn’t know vampires could be aroused by anything other than blood.”

He could smell the lust dripping between her thighs. It only made her want him more, somehow.

She retorted, “I didn’t realize witchers could be so attractive.”

Silence filled the air as they stared at each other, both resisting the urge to close the distance between them and take what they both were craving.

“Afraid to want a monster, Witcher?” she taunted.

A warning growl was the only response he gave.

“I’ll pay you to leave empty-handed tonight, to return to the man who paid you and insist that this precious family crest no longer exists.” She took half a step towards him--the only amount of distance she dared to close between them. “I’ll pay you in gold. Or, if there’s another form of payment you’d prefer, I’d happily let you indulge in that too.” The smile that tugged at her lips was flirtatious. It only grew as Geralt’s gaze dropped to her mouth, those darkened pupils missing nothing.

He was silent. A man of few words. That was fine--Rosa would be sure to fill the silence as he filled her tonight.

She spread her arms. An open invitation. All he had to do was take it. “Come on, Geralt. Take what we both want.”

Still, he hesitated.

“Would you prefer it if I beg?” she wondered.

He pounced. Half a second passed before he had her pressed against the wall, her back pressed tightly against his chest. She ground her ass into his hard-on. Oh, fuck. The stories of a witcher’s girth weren’t just stories. One of his hands moved to her hip, grinding her body against his erection, while the other tugged hard enough on her hair to force her to look up and back at him.

“I’d like to hear you beg,” he growled.

Yeah, right. She dug her elbow into his stomach hard enough to make his grip loosen on her. A second later he was the one trapped against the wall. She held onto his wrists with a grip so tight not even a witcher’s strength could get him out.

“Sorry, darling, but I don’t beg for anyone.”

Before he could say anything, she licked up the column of his throat. His witcher heart was slow, but his pulse still made her toes curl. She longed to know what he tasted like, longed to know if he tasted better than he would feel when he was balls-deep inside of her.

The sensation of her tongue on his skin made a low growl elicit from the back of his throat, a sound so intoxicating that Rosa did, for a moment, contemplate begging him to fuck her if she had to. She needed this man inside of her, needed him to mark her up and fuck her so well she couldn’t walk right for a day afterwards.

“You don’t beg?” Geralt's voice was a low timber in her ear, making her shiver with arousal. And then his hand was around her throat while the other one went to the sensitive mound between her legs. “Then you’ve never had a Witcher fuck you.”

A moan fell from her lips before she could stop it. Her body was pure reaction now; there was no more room for her pride to decide what she would do. She was merely a reaction to every move Geralt made. She was at his mercy.

In one flash of movement Geralt picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her off through the castle like game he’d just proudly hunted down. He stopped at what was once the duke’s quarters, but had been Rosa’s quarters for centuries now. The room was filled with piles of clothes, books, and gold. Crimson sheets were thrown about the bed on the far wall, which was where Geralt strode for now. He was gentle as he set her down but the look in his eyes was wild and ravenous. She had no doubt her eyes held the same kind of animalistic hunger.

“Ever fucked a vampire before?” she questioned as she sat up and started untying his breeches.

“No,” was his simple reply, his voice a deep, rumbling baritone that made Rosa’s stomach knot with need.

She pulled down his breeches enough for his cock to spring free and--wow. Whether it was the Witcher mutation or Geralt had been blessed by the gods themselves, Rosa didn’t particularly care. Not as her mouth literally watered at the site of his thick, long cock, already glistening with precum. Dark curls swirled around the base of his shaft. A thin vein ran along the length of his cock from base to tip and she practically moaned. She wrapped her hand around his length, softly caressing the velvet of his sensitive skin as she began to jerk him off. He growled in approval. It wasn’t long before her skilled hand had him bucking his hips, desperate for her to increase her pace so he could cum. But she continued her slow assault on his throbbing cock, enamored by the look on his face as she teased him. Precum continued to fall from his tip. It mixed with her hand to make a sinful squelching noise. That, along with Geralt’s grunts and growls, was the only sound in the room.

Rosa finally pulled her hand away when she decided she’d tortured the Witcher long enough. His eyes were lidded, heavy with lust, but they widened with arousal as he watched her lick up every last drop of the precum on her hand. With a growl that promised her unbecoming, he splayed a large hand on her stomach and pushed her back. He climbed over her as she relaxed against the bed. His right leg instantly moved between her own, his knee finding a home against her aching pussy.

“My turn,” he growled before moving to hover over her heat.

“Wait,” she called out, her body already humming with intense heat. “You really want to get me off?”

The look in his golden eyes was answer enough.

“Then let me drink from you.” Her voice was breathy, too overcome with lust to sound normal anymore.

He paused, and that lust in his eyes was replaced by a look of distrust.

“I won’t drink too much,” she promised. “But for a vampire, drinking a partner’s blood while being intimate with them is better than anything else. It’ll make me cum long before eating me out will.”

“Which vein is best?” Geralt asked in a low, curious voice, but there was still hesitancy written all over his face.

“The closer to the heart, the better,” she admitted. “Anywhere would do, but blood from the heart, or anywhere around it…” She closed her eyes as she thought about the intoxicating taste of blood straight from the heart. It had been a long time since she’d let herself indulge in it, since tasting blood that sweet normally sent vampires into a frenzy. But the memory of that nectar on her lips made her legs clench, it was that good.

“You stop when I tell you to,” Geralt demanded. His tone was stern, but he was giving in. Indulging her.

Her heart began to beat faster at the thought of drinking from him. “And if I don’t?” Rosa wondered, opening her eyes to look at him again.

The answer to her question was written in his eyes. If she didn’t stop, if she gave in to the monster inside of her, he’d kill her.

“As you wish,” she complied.

He reached a hand towards her. For a second she thought he was reaching for her neck, wanting to pull her towards him for a kiss, but his hand stopped between her breasts, at the dress still covering them. A second later and the dress was torn to shreds, her breasts falling free. Her nipples were already hard from arousal and a low sound of approval fell from Geralt as he observed it. His eyes scanned the rest of her body with hunger.

“Your turn,” she demanded, longing to see his body in all of its naked, muscled glory.

He rose to his feet and began undressing, teasing her as he moved slowly. All she had to do was spread her legs and one look at the sight of her glistening folds made him rush his movements. His body was a glorious maze of muscles and scars--a picture perfect warrior. Dark curls that matched the hair around his cock swirled around his chest and trailed a path down his stomach. An ancient kind of power and strength radiated off of him. Gods, did she want this man inside of her.

Geralt gave her only a few seconds to take in his naked form before he was on top of her, his mouth devouring hers. His tongue was hungry and demanding as it pushed past her lips and collided with her own. She moaned into his mouth as he ground her hips against hers, his cock rubbing against her clit and sending electricity through her veins. Her arousal spiked, and suddenly she could feel her fangs coming out, and before Geralt could break the kiss, she bit his bottom lip. They both moaned--him at the sensation of being bit for the first time, surprised that it could be so arousing for the victim; and her because his Witcher blood was the finest wine she’d ever tasted. Her legs clenched around his hips as she swallowed the first drop of his blood.

It was then that he chose to plunge deep into her folds. She released a cry of pleasure that made the walls shake. Her walls squeezed around him as he continued to enter her, his cock going ever deeper and farther inside of her. Geralt muttered something in a language Rosa didn’t recognize, but she got the message clear enough from the tone: he was loving this as much as she was. The pain of his cock splitting her open was a welcome hurt. It turned her on and made her walls clench even tighter around his length, which only made his growls and moans deepen.

“Fuck me, Witcher,” she cried out.

He obliged her. His hips began to move at an exhilarating rate and the sensation of his cock penetrating her at such an inhuman speed threw her over the edge in a matter of moments. She threw her head back as she cried out, her fangs only elongating further as she came around his unrelenting cock.

Even after the waves of ecstasy calmed inside of her, Geralt didn’t stop fucking her. His hands had moved to her hips in a deathly grip. She was sure to have bruises from where he held her.

“Let me drink from you,” she cried out.

Without even stopping his thrusts, he tilted his head to the side, inviting her to suck at his throat. She pulled him closer to her and clamped her mouth around the soft skin of his throat, letting her fangs break the skin slowly. His movements became sloppy as she began to drink from him, as if it were as much a turn on for him as it was for her. She drank mouthful after mouthful of his sweet nectar. Her entire body lit on fire as they attacked each other, her with her mouth, and him with his cock. This was how she wanted to die, she decided--her mouth around his throat, him balls deep inside of her. It was the closest to heaven she’d ever get.

Geralt let out a broken moan as his cock spasmed inside of her. A second later his hot seed poured inside of her, dripping down her legs and onto the bed. Geralt came longer than most men did, which must have been another aspect of the Witcher mutation, but she loved it, reveled in every second of it. And when he was done, he collapsed on top of her. She pulled her mouth back and forced her fangs to retract. Blood dripped down his neck and dried on his shoulder.

“I didn’t realize you had a biting kink,” she murmured minutes later.

“Neither did I.” He was on his back beside her now, his eyes closed and a droopy smile on his face.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” she said, admiring the few of a Witcher fucked out beside her.

He let out a humm of agreement, and then his breaths deepened and slowed. She fell asleep beside him, a smile plastered onto her face. It was the best sleep she’d had in decades.

[3maxren3]

"Hii! Can I get a Diluc x Male Reader, NSFW please!!!"

My first submission, thank you Anon! I love Diluc so this will be nice

NSFW warning, choking, and slight angst.

The clock struck 12:00, which meant it was closing time for the tavern, Diluc was trying to get Kaeya off his seat and out into the rest of the city of Mondstadt.

"Get your ass off of the seat!" Diluc was getting more and more pissed at his indirect brother. "NoOOoOOo-" Kaeya's words were cut off by the sound of the tavern door being slammed in his face.

A deep sigh escaped Diluc's perfect lips. You walked over behind him and hugged him. He held your hands and moved his head towards your own. "How about we walk home tonight?" A smile appeared on his lips, you couldn't help but smile back as you nodded.

As you walked with Diluc, you couldn't help but appreciate how beautiful Mondstadt looked at night. Diluc told you stories about the legendary traveler that saved Mondstadt from Stormterror and his own personal adventures with said traveler.

It always made you a little... jealous. No, it made you super jealous. You loved hearing about Diluc's adventures, but they always had to be about the oh so amazing traveler. If the traveler was SO great, why are you hearing about them now?

The thoughts wouldn't leave your mind, you loved Diluc and he loved you, but the idea of Diluc in love with the traveler instead of you kept taunting you.

After a while, you arrived at the Dawn Winery. You walked inside and went directly to your shared room while Diluc went to make a cup of tea. You didn't know why you were so jealous of the damned traveler, they were better than you at everything... could that be it?

You tried to distract yourself by doing anything you could think of, you tried reading, but you heard Diluc talking to one of his maids, they were talking about the traveler of course.

Diluc opened the door of the room, delighted to see you after his rough day of work. He took a seat next to you on the bed, sipping his cup of tea. "Did you hear? The traveler is coming back to Mondstadt! I'm excited to catch up with them, and introduce them to you, darling"

The tears rolled down your cheek unnoticed by you, but Diluc definitely noticed them.

"Darling, are you okay?!" He rested his cup down to comfort you. "T-traveler..." You didn't want to tell him you were jealous of the famous traveler. "What about them?" Diluc's mood changed, from being somewhat happy and relieved to be home with his boyfriend to being more caring than you've ever seen him.

"D-do you l-love them...?" The words were hard to say, the embarrassment of it all. "What? No! I love you and you only! Why would you think that?"

You couldn't speak. You just cried into Diluc's chest.

"Your the only man I have eyes for..."

"Your the only one..."

Diluc's reassuring words made you feel better, you stopped crying and sat with him in silence. "Say... why don't I make it up to you..." Diluc's mood changed once again. "Huh?" You lifted your head to meet with his eyes. He smirked in reply. "You should know what I mean..." He pushed you down onto the bed, him hovering above you. "I had such a rough day at work... can you help me? And I'll help you~"

Blush appeared all over your face. "I'll take that as a yes." Diluc's lips slammed against your own, it formed into a french kiss easily. He pulled away with a thin string of saliva connecting the both of you. He then started licking every inch of your neck, biting everywhere. Moving slowly down your body, kissing everywhere. Blush was taking over you whole face. Moans where filling the room, you knew once he started fucking you the moans would get louder.

He removed your pants and the shirt he unbuttoned earlier, and he did the same thing for himself. He bit your thighs as he did with your neck, slowly making his way to your crotch. "D-diluc..." You managed to whine out. He started teasing the very tip of you dick, which made you whine. He smirked and started taking all of you into his mouth, which granted him a moan from you.

This feeling was new, sure, you've had sex with Diluc before but he's never sucked you off. Diluc's tongue was doing wonders, you never knew he had it in him. And boom, you hit your climax, cumming all over Diluc's handsome face. "Heh... making a mess already? Are you asking to be punished?" He roughly entered you, not even prepping you. "Fuck Diluc!" It hurt more than usual, but Diluc was slamming into you, making it feel better. You missed Diluc fucking you mercilessly. Diluc's large hands places themselves at your neck, gripping slightly. This was the first time he has ever choked you, it was a little uncomfortable but still hot as fuck. "Take your punishment..." Diluc grunted. You couldn't contain yourself anymore... "D-diluc! P-please let me... cum!" you were so close... "Beg for it, and maybe if you be a good boy... I'll let you."

His words were said so sternly and so calmly even though he was fucking you so ruthlessly.

"P-please Master Diluc... let me cum!!!" The begging continued till you couldn't take it anymore, you came without his permission. Luckily, Diluc didn't mind since he came too. "Oh baby boy... your punishment for not obeying me will come later..."

He came down next to you, kissing you again, much softer this time. "I only love you Darling... the traveler is great and all, but you... make me so much more happier."

Oh how you loved Diluc... You were interested to see the traveler... who they were... what they looked like... did they like Diluc? You still have so many questions... You will only know once you meet them.

Should I make a part 2 of meeting the Traveler? And if so, should it be Lumine or Aether?