#well they aren’t orcs

[lilolilyr]

A fanfiction for @flufftober day 23 prompt ‘trinkets’ and the octlotr prompt ‘hobbits’

2.4k, rated G, no warnings

Summary: Fangorn contemplates about hobbits, and somehow (Gandalf might have something to do with it, judging by the notes in the margin that look like they were written in his hand), the tree shepherd’s thoughts have made it into the appendices of Frodo's story 'The Lord of the Rings' by the time a Gamgee descendant gets around to publishing it...

Read on Ao3

[taro-pdf]

Humans are Space Orcs: Disability in Aliens and Humans

All language is Universal Interplanetary Language unless otherwise specified. Written like a play.

[Kell, human, in the staff break room of a planet-sized spacecraft where they work as a technician. An alien walks in and jumps. Kell doesn't notice.]

Alien, under their breath: what the fuck since when did we have a human on board?? I thought we employed fynta as security…

[Kell turns around and sees them. They wave. The alien stares. Kell puts down their cup and types something on their watch.]

Kell (text to speech, aka TTS): hey, what's up? can I help you?

Alien, under breath: jfdklas;jdjdfls what am I supposed to say to a human???

Kell (TTS): Kell, human, they/them, I've been on board three orbits and I haven't hurt anyone yet. I you can relax.

Alien: Um, Neka, sateen, he/him. And you relax can as well. Human voices aren't harmful to my species.

Kell (TTS): kind of you to offer, but I don't speak, and I can't hear either. My glasses are transcribing your words for me.

Neka aka alien: Oh neat!

[Kell looks at him in suprise.]

Neka: I mean, a lot of my species is deaf. Our world's pretty loud, and hearing is a recessive gene. My parents sent me up for adoption when they realized I wouldn't be able to do anything on-planet because the noise literally hurts, but at least they did't operate to "fix" me.

Kell (TTS): My parents tried to "fix" my hearing but it didn't work out. I can speak with my hands though. [signs in ASL, then types] like that. It's one of the human sign languages.

Neka: WHAT I speak a sign too! [signs in Sateen] You probably don't know that one, but I can do a bit of Universal Traders' Sign as well. it cool I have something in common with one of the scariest species in galaxy!

Kell (traders' sign): Nice to meet you. I promise not all humans are the fighting machines we are said to be.

Neka (traders'): It's been to long since I spoke anything close to my first language. um... you're the first human i've see off a security team and not holding weapons... can you tell me about like everything about humans? I've heard so much.

Kell (traders'): Of course! A lot of it is exaggerated, but there's always some humans who live up to the stories. Let me tell you about them.

[ameliathornromance]

It was strange for your Orc Boyfriend not to pick up his phone.

He was normally available at all hours of the day. Usually, you’d never call him unless absolutely necessary - the last thing you wanted was to be one of those overbearing girlfriends.

At the start of your relationship, everything was amazing. 

Every time you met up at the end of the week for a date, he always brought a freshly cut bouquet of flowers paired with a broad smile across his usually intimidating face.

After the six month mark of being together, he suggested that you move in with him and you gladly accepted the invitation.

It was nice to come home to a partner, who greeted you with open arms, a kiss on the cheek and an, “hi honey, how was your day?”

But the past few weeks had become… strange.

It was the change in the air when you woke up, the way that whenever you tried to display any kind of physical affection, your Orc would shrug you off, grunt in annoyance.

It was fine the first few times - sometimes people just aren’t in the mood for that kind of thing. But the tense air never left your flat, and your boyfriend’s company became less and less frequent in the evenings.

Maybe he just needed some time alone, you’d reasoned. Even you needed alone time, and since you both now shared a living space, that became more important than ever. 

You knew you shouldn’t place a timer on these things, however the need for his ‘time alone’ became longer and longer. So, you asked him when he got back from work if you’d done something wrong.

You had already searched your mind for things that you might have done to annoy him, but nothing came to mind.

He just gave the same, nonchalant grunt, “no. Why would you think you’d done something wrong?”

Well, if it wasn’t you, then maybe it was work? He had been staying out in the evenings more often. 

That was your follow up question, to which he also replied, “no. What makes you think that?” After which, he gave you a glower and stalked to your shared room.

Not wanting to start anything, you’d just left it at that. 

As Boys Night went on, you began to bite at your fingernails, staring at your phone on your coffee table.

The screen was black, blank. What were you watching it for? A call? A message? A DM from him?

Usually, your Orc would text you when he was on his way back home or would let you know that he and his friends were going to be staying out later than initially planned.

As the evening got later and later, you knew something was wrong. Picking up your phone, you dialled your boyfriend’s number.

Nails still in your mouth as the dial tone went on, once, twice, three, four- 

“I’m sorry,” the robotic voice said from the other end of the line, “but the person you’re trying to reach-“ you hung up the phone and tried again.

This time it went straight to voicemail.

You flinched, frowning at your phone. Did he intentionally hang up on you?

Not being able to stand the lack of communication any longer, you tracked his phone to a club called ‘Eden’, picked up your coat and keys, and left your flat.

There had to be an explanation for this, there had to be. You’d get to the club, and find your Orc absolutely hammered. 

Your heart ached at the image of his face lighting up at seeing you… the way it used to when you were first seeing each other. 

You wished he’d look at you like that again.

Sucking in deep breaths, you drove to the club and found the line outside it to be relatively small.

After waiting in line for what seemed like an eternity, you were let in and greeted by the thudding music, sweaty clubbers dancing and swaying to the beat.

Navigating through them, you looked down at your phone, which guided you to the bar, where you stopped dead in your tracks.

A smile you hadn’t seen for weeks, was plastered on your Orc Boyfriends face as his arm was slung around a human woman, glitter decorating her cheeks, dark hair and revealing outfit on, hand on your boyfriends chest, her eyes half-lidded and looking at him as if he was the most attractive Orc in the room.

They chatted animatedly, your Orc getting closer, and closer to her face, as if he was going to kiss her.

It took a moment for the both of them to notice you, but when your Orc did, his face fell.

You were too stunned to say anything, and so you turned and walked straight back to the exit.

The night's cold air stung your cheeks as you freed yourself from the humidity of the club atmosphere, eyes stinging with hot tears.

You bit your lip, trying to fight them back as you heard your boyfriend's voice behind you. “Love, what are you-”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me!” You spat at him. Wheeling around on your heel, you glowered at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I was worried sick about you, and here you are, chatting up some woman at a club!”

Your Orc flinched at your harsh words, as if the accusation was completely and utterly false. 

He recovered quickly however, his usual glower returning. “You aren’t even supposed to be here,” he growled, jabbing a finger at you. “It’s Boys night, the one night of the week I get to have time to myself!” 

“Really?!” You shrieked. “Because it seems as though every night of the week you ‘have to yourself’!” 

“Yeah and maybe I need that time to myself, because I have such a clingy girlfriend at my side all the fucking time!” He snapped back at you. 

You recoiled at the harsh words. Staring at him, you searched his face for any kind of regret for what he just said. 

But his tirade continued, “‘have I done anything wrong?’” He imitated you, “‘you’re not mad at me are you?’ ‘If there’s something wrong you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’ I’m fucking sick of it!” 

The tears rolled down your cheeks as the Orc opposite you rubbed his face with his palms, frustratedly, letting out an irritated sigh.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracked, “that I wanted to make sure my boyfriend was okay. I was only asking, because you’d been pulling away from me,” wiping the tears from your face, you raised your own voice, “I’m still trying to make this work, because I love you!” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t?” The Orc snapped back.

“Then why did you ask me to move in with you?!” 

“Because I didn’t think you were going to be this annoying!”

It was like your already fragile, glass heart had been shattered.

What happened to that friendly, loving Orc you’d first met? The one who played with your hair when you first woke up in the morning? The one who would bring home gifts and say, “I saw this and thought of you.”

A wave of clarity hit you, like calm waters after a chaotic storm at sea: this Orc never loved you - at least, not in the way you did.

It surprised you how steady your voice was when you spoke, “fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go and get my stuff.” Turning on your heel, you walked back to your car, parked just across the street from the club.

For a moment, the Orc didn’t say anything, but still followed after you. “(Y/N), come on I didn’t-” His voice came out soft, weak.

“No,” you opened the car door, looking back at your now ex-boyfriend, “no, it’s fine, I’ll gather my stuff up and I’ll never annoy you again.” 

And with that, you got into the car and drove off, away from Eden.

Away from your Orc.

Patreon - I now have a 7 Day Free Trial enabled! Come have a look at what I've been writing recently!

[dontfearrr]

ask and you shall receive! @elia-the-bibliophile

i have a few warnings, i’m coming out of fan fiction retirement so bare with me. i didn’t proofread that well so don’t mind any spelling mistakes, i used some shitty sindarin translator on google so i do apologize if it’s incorrect, and. i think that’s all! :)

In my arms

gif not mine!

Summary: Thranduil isn’t very fond of you and legolas’s relationship but nonetheless he bares it.

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

Warnings: small hint toward sex (nothing specific)

Word count: idk tbh i forgot to check

Category: hurt/comfort(?)

—————————

“final count, forty-two.” Legolas spoke matter-a-factly across from you as he ran his fingers over his perfectly crafted, elvish bow. You gave him a raised eyebrow and drew your sword in a blink of an eye, plunging it into an orc that had its axe raised behind Legolas’s back.

“forty four”

—————————

It was midday in middle earth, you and Legolas had volunteered to clear the rogue orcs that ravaged near by villages, burning and spilling blood mercilessly. It wasn’t often you got to spend time with him due to your other duties in Mirkwood.

The Woodland Realm had been your home for many ages, you were an elf but a fool in their eyes. Woodland elves aren’t the wisest of the bunch but nonetheless, they’re your home. Legolas was the closest you’d ever get to a brother, he cared for you as family.

However that could never sit right with Thranduil.

He was a stubborn man, possessive some may say, which is why you and Legolas’s little adventure wasn’t mentioned to the elven king. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice considering he will find out eventually, he had men everywhere you look. At the end of the day, you’re accompanied by one of the most skilled princlings you’ve ever came across, so what could justify Thranduils brooding this time?

You and Legolas were on your way back to your residence, small talk was made but you both enjoyed simply just each others company, even if it was in silence.

“and what do you suppose daddy dearest will have to say once we return?” you inquired, not looking up from the ground as the both of them walked walked. “something along the lines of ‘no one leaves here without my knowledge, i’ve told you many times legolas’ then send me off as if i’m some child” He mocked his father, which earned a small smile in amusement from you.

As you entered the throne room, you and Legolas stood near the doors for a moment, exchanging farewells for the day. He embraces you in a warm comforting hug as he always did before he let you be, smoothing down the back of your hair and nodding his head before exiting to mind his duties. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for what was to come as you walked down the long stone walk way to the throne, which sat the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. He sat nearly diagonal, legs crossed with his arms on either side of the throne. Glittery gems littered his fingers and crown that complimented his usual flawless elven apparel.

His long white hair shifted with his gaze as he spotted the smaller elf before him. He gave her no expression which was expected. He stared, waiting for you to speak, you could feel his mood from where you stood, it reeked of attitude.

Thranduil had spotted the interaction between you and legolas, it burned a fire of rage inside of him, only he was allowed to lay even a finger upon the elf. She belonged to him. His mind raced with thought but never cracked even a sliver of visible emotion.

“my lord” you began to bow before him until he raised a hand, putting a halt to your actions. You stood back up straight in confusion and shifted on your feet, Thranduils eyes staggering into you.

He finally spoke. “i don’t think i remember warranting your leave.”

You stood your ground, after all, the king would do anything for this she-elf.

“orcs were bringing treachery over near by villages, surely you saw the fires, my lord.”

You dipped your toe into the water, testing him.

His eyes narrowed at you, his thick dark eyebrows coming together, he was unimpressed. “and what does that have to do with me?”

“nothing, my lord. Me and Legolas simply volunteered.” you took no more than five steps closer toward the tall man. “we both had a free morning, i see not the problem.” Thranduil uncrossed his legs slowly, rising from his seat. His garments fell into place, the long white, detailed over coat trailed behind him as he made his way down the wooden steps. You were eyeing him like the finest piece of treasure, his grace and royalty always intimidated you.

“very well. however, i see no reason why my son had to accompany you.” he challenged, standing only a few feet from you, hands intertwined at his front.

“i mean not to disrespect you, my lord, but i don’t see a problem with the company of your son. would you have had me go alone? perhaps getting killed?” you know he would react to that, and he did. A long sigh drew from his nostrils, getting quite impatient despite having lived for more than 8,000 years.

“Thranduil, it is to you.” he steps even closer to you and peers down at you like an animal hunting prey. “you two seem.. close.” he followed up, taking the knuckle of his index finger to push a strand of misplaced hair behind your ear. “yes. he’s the only one who will even speak to me in this realm, other than you.” you finally raised your head up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “he is the only one who treats me like family. a brother.” you continued to further solidify your point.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a conversation like this with Thranduil. He’s a curious yet jealous mess, whether he likes to admit it or not. This conversation was slowly taking a toll on his heart, nasty remarks threatened his throat and boiling tears threatened his eyes. He remained calm, the elf in front of him reminding him of his purpose.

“he touched you.” Thranduil simply said while tilting his head to the side a bit. If this was his attempt at intimidating you, it sure as hell was working. He made something in your heart weak, yearning for him. “surely you aren’t jealous of your very own son, right?” your tone changed, attempting to take the upper hand in this situation, and based on his expression, it was working. your crossed your arms behind your back and gave him your best doe eyes.

“i mean not to make you feel this way, you know Legolas doesn’t think of me that way, and nor do i.”

Thranduils hand fell from your cheek down to your waist, gripping fairly tight as if you were going to disappear. “i know my son shall never dare to try my woman, but you are special and you know that. it wouldn’t take a lot for him to change his mind.” At this point you were bored of the conversation, you only ever had eyes for Thranduil, but that is hard for him to understand. He’s not used to this kind of love and anything that happens under his nose makes him rethink every single thing that has ever come to him. you were his star.

“oh meleth nin” Your heart ached for the king in front of you. He has seen many a heartbreak. He couldn’t bare to handle another. You were much younger than the elven king, but you knew when his heart was hurting, and you were going to fix that. Both of your hands raised to his face, his skin was like porcelain, flawless and pale. Your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, he instinctively leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He may seem intimidating, but sometimes even the most wretched need comfort and reassurance.

“Legolas is no more than a brother to me. you need not worry. I pledged my heart to you a long time ago Thranduil and that is how it will stay.” you got as close as you could to him to where you could still reach him. Your hands never left his face and his arms came to wrap around your waist completely. “Im nifred i er aur im lothron ú- n- farn an cin.”(i fear that one day i may not be enough for you) He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart shattered at the broken man. You wished you could take all of his trouble for yourself so he’d never have to bare them again. His head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. You held the back of his head, gently smoothing over his hair and scratching his scalp.

“meleth nin, my heart and soul belongs to you. there’s nothing in this earth that could give me the love you do.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the pointy tips and they flushed red. You felt his body shudder at the action and held him closer. “don’t let a simple adventure spoil your mind.”

you lifted his head to face you and leaned yours against his. “im mel cin”(i love you).

Thranduil sighed in content and took your small hand in his, holding it to his cheek as his eyes fell shut once again. He kisses your wrist and opens his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior. it was unnecessary” he drops your hand and pulls you into his large figure, engulfing you in a warm embrace. You returned the embrace by holding him tight, breathing in his woodsy scent as you did so. your head just barely reached his chest, you felt like a princess in his arms. “your apology is accepted. you never have to question my devotion to you. Ask for reassurance and i will give it to you, sweet king.”

He released you and captured your lips in a soft but passionate kiss, he tasted of pine and elvish wine. you savored the kiss as your hands cupped his face, using your thumb to draw gentle circles over the points of his ears. You always loved his body language especially since you’re the only one who ever sees him express emotion besides Legolas. As the kiss ended, you smiled up at him, to which he returned but quickly was replaced with a huff of defeat, his eyes dared to close and his legs nearly trembling.

“you witch” he feigned the insult, merely joking as you gave his ears attention. Causing him to sweep you off your feet into his arms and head toward his chambers.

[misswrittenword]

Teasing my Orc Neighbour.

Male!Orc x Fem!reader ~ No condoms, oral (fem receiving), fingering, very very mild degradation (use of like once) , small angst??? p in v boinking.

Word Count: just over 3k.

A/N: this was inspired by someones imagine I seen and I cannot for the life of me remember who, and I liked it.. but I like so many things that it's so lost now. if you know who, please tag them?? Pardon any spelling mistakes or tense errors :))

Credit: A very kind person tagged the lovely and very talented @bunnis-monsters and their post for my inspo! Thank you very much to both of you, esp bunni!! check out their work if you haven't already :))

It starts when I move in. When I find myself swamped with boxes and furniture after friends bailed on helping empty the moving truck. A big box in my arms when a large shadow appears beside me. An orc who introduces himself as Varek, gesturing to the house next to mine. He is over a head taller than me, and after I accept his help, he gently takes the boxes from me, and I don’t lift a hand for the rest of the day.  

To my delight the hunk is single, and I allow myself to admire him as the sun of a spring morning glimmers on the bulging muscles under his dark green skin. Long shiny black hair braided intricately, with beads decorating some strands. His tusks aren’t terribly large and are chiselled with sigils. His stomach has the perfect paunch, and I wonder dreamily how it would feel as he thrusts his cock inside me.

Well built with wide shoulders I could easily picture my nails digging into. When his eyes connect with mine, I can’t help the sultry little smile that graces my lips. I trail my gaze approvingly up his tall, enticing body in a gesture I hope he takes as an invitation, just to find him blushing and looking away when I catch his eye again. A giggle escapes my throat, he is just so scrumptious and adorable. I can’t wait to get my lips on him.

I just didn’t realize I would wait so long. Well, it felt like an unreasonable amount of time, yet it had only been a few months. It was August now, and I had made a constant effort to get his attention, to push him to a breaking point so that he would fuck me already. Yet he was either blind or uninterested, and I refused to believe it was the latter. Short skirts, revealing shirts. Leaving the curtains up on the side of the house that faced his and walking around in a bra and panties, knowing if he was out in his yard or looked out his window he would catch a glimpse.

Going out for my mail when he did, and dropping something solely to bend over provocatively just to give him a look at what he was missing. Still, when I peeked at him over my shoulder, he would be trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on my body. And after each interaction I swore the bulge in his pants would be more noticeable than when I first approached.

It was a slightly too warm Friday evening when I have enough of the waiting. Freshly baked muffins sit contently in a container on my table, and I stare at myself in the mirror, primping and fussing with my outfit. A pretty sage green sundress that is slightly too short, with a tie up front that reveals my tits quite nicely. My boobs aren’t huge, but the design of the bust on this thing really made them noticeable. I leave my hair down in its natural state, and turn, admiring the curve of my ass. I filled it out perfectly, even my soft jiggly tummy could be seen. I felt hot and eager, like the simplest touch from his giant hands would have me on my hands and knees, presenting my cunt to him.

I smooth the front of my dress down as I walk to the door with muffins in hand. Nervousness floods my body, and I can’t help the anxious look I throw his front door as I walk down my driveway and up his. I take a deep breath before tilting my shoulders back just the right amount before stepping up on his deck and hitting his doorbell.

To my surprise the door opens almost instantly, and the little grin that turns my lips up is genuine. He must have been at the door waiting for me to knock. Or… Intending to leave as I walked up, but a guilty little glance up and down his body shows no sign of his wallet or keys. Dressed in simple jeans and a tee, he appears to be getting ready to wind down for the night.

“Hello Var.”

He seems mildly embarrassed though a small smile does appear on his face, and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Oh uh, hi. How are you?”

So sweet. “I’m well, thank you handsome.” I say with a cheeky wink. “What about you? I brought you some muffins. Freshly baked, too.”

Eyebrows raising in surprise, he takes the container from me and cracks the lid. I watch as he sniffs the air, groans and licks his lips. The tusks on either side also get some tongue action and the heat spilling into my belly is involuntary as I find myself jealous of them. I clear my throat and he jumps, looking back at me.

“Would you like to come inside?” His voice is deep and tempting.

Rather you cum inside me, but oh well. I’d take what I could get, and hopefully by the end of the night, it would be his cock. “I’d love to.”

Not giving him enough time to step back, I squeeze in beside him, hoping he is getting a good look down my dress, and promptly bend over slightly to unbuckle my sandals. There is a cough from behind me and I stand back up, giving him as innocent of a look as I can muster, but it is hard to contain the fiendish glint in my eyes.

His eyes trace my frame, but he slowly shakes his head and starts to lead the way into the house. Being my first time over, I am pleasantly surprised to see that it is warmly decorated, trinkets and small sculptures sit on shelves, with a full book shelf in the corner of his living room. I eye the few pillows on the orc sized extra-large couch and decide that would be a splendid place to ride him into oblivion. Var turns to the right into the kitchen, and I wander over to the couch. Standing at the back, I run my hand over the soft cushioned top, and realize that if he bent me over it, my legs would probably dangle. The idea sends a shiver up my spine, and another wave of arousal courses though my veins.

I hear him enter the room and turn to look. He carries four muffins on a plate, and a pitcher of water in the other.

“Are you thirsty?” He asks sitting them down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

I hum, run my tongue over my lips and in the most seductive voice I can manage, speak. “I’m very thirsty, but not just for water.”

His cheeks burn anew. “Would…” He stumbles, “would you like iced tea then, maybe?”

Shaking my head, I urge him to sit on the couch and wander off into his kitchen to find a couple tall glasses filled with ice cubes on the island. Returning, I place both glasses down and fill them with the pitcher. Taking one, I hand it to him and grab my own, the condensation already beading on the glass and covering the palm of my hand.

“Thank you.” A shy smile causes the corners of his eyes to crease, and I grin up at him as I sit down, our thighs touching as I cross my leg over the other and lean into him, skirt hiked up precariously high. Laying my left hand on his knee, I give it a testing squeeze.

“You’re so shy, darling.” I say softly as I look up at him through my eyelashes. “So shy, you leave a girl wondering if you’re immune to her advances.”

His lovely green cheeks tinge with red, and his eyes fixate on my neck.

“I… You… Well-” He stammers.

Withdrawing, I eye him carefully. “Ever since I moved in, I have barely refrained from throwing myself at your feet and begging you to fuck my brains out.”

Sitting my glass down on the coffee table, I lean forward slightly, imploring him to answer, and return my hands to my lap.

“This whole time you’ve seemed unmoved and almost uninterested, and I desperately need to know if you’re into me like I am you, Var.” I cringe. “I don’t want you to feel pressured either, but I suppose I’ve made a mess of that.”

Our eyes connect, each searching the others face for a sign, and the air feels heavy and tense around us. My heart races and I’m about to stand when he reaches for me, his big hands pushing me back into the couch as he hovers over me, our mouths a breath away. His demeanour changes, and I feel something I never expected from him. Dominance.

“You have driven me wild since you arrived here, little flower. Flaunting that gorgeous body,” He nudges my legs apart, and a deep groan escapes him as my skirt falls away, revealing my unclothed cunt. Settling his hips against my own, I gasp and press my fingers to his shoulders, disbelieving.

“Every moment of the past few months has been filled with thoughts of you, that plump ass and those stunning tits. Your beautiful face and sweet laugh. I want to bury myself between these juicy thighs and feast on your sweet cunt for the rest of my life. Each day I stroke my cock to the thought of you beneath me, above me, owning me and owning you. Filling this pretty pussy with my cock and pulling away to watch my cum drip out of you,” His hips rock against me, the sensation of the jeans over his cock makes my eyes roll back as I whimper. I clench around nothing, and it feels as if my soul begs for him.

His nose runs up my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, shivering as his tusks brush against my delicate skin. “I want to devour you, worship you, lay myself before you and beg for every inch of your being. You have driven me mad from the moment I laid eyes on you, even just the scent of you makes me rock hard.”

My head feels foggy as his lips touch my jaw, and he turns my face toward him. “Will you take me, sweet flower?”

Nodding feverishly, I crash my mouth to his, and the kiss is feral. Months of lust drove to a peak and finally shoved over the edge. I nip and lick at his lips, and our tongues touch, reaching and taking, offering and seeking. We pull apart, breath laboured and his forehead rests against mine. He takes up my half-lidded vision, and it is as if he has already consumed me.

Hooking my ankles together behind his back, I grind up against him and he meets me eagerly with purposeful thrusts, moans escaping us both as we kiss again. He pulls back and I whine, grabbing at his shirt and pulling it up, propping myself up enough that as he takes it off, I can press a kiss to his chest. He pushes me back and I grin up at him as his hands reach for the tie at the front of my dress. The fabric falls away and he gazes at me before taking one in his hand and leaning down, nipping the skin at my collar bone before kissing it and repeating the process as he moves toward my nipple. A little bite and a sweet lick makes my back arch as he turns his attention to my other boob, squeezing and teasing me until I whine loudly and pull him up for a proper kiss.

We part and he hurriedly begins to pull my dress from my body, and as my arms slide free I reach for the button on his pants, fumbling with it before he takes over. I use the few seconds to admire him. His chest is hairy and broad, and the muscles in his arms bulge perfectly. He stands and I watch as he shucks his pants off and my breath catches in my throat at the size of his cock. Thick and long, pre cum already graces the tip and he grips the base, squeezing slightly. I reach for him, eager to take him in hand, but he shakes his head at me and tsks.

“Not yet.” He commands, and I feel myself shiver at the tone.

I settle myself back on the couch, sliding my hands teasingly down my body. Eyes following my movements, he kneels on the couch, gently but firmly taking my shut knees in hand and meeting my eye. I nod my consent and he pushes them apart, sucking in a deep breath as he gazes upon me so intently it makes me squirm. Var drags his hands down the insides of my thighs as he follows them with kisses on the left one. I sigh and watch him through half opened eyes as he closes in on where I want him the most.

Hot breath tickling me, I lace my fingers into his silky black hair and pull him to me completely, unable to wait any longer. His fingers spread me open and his tongue, flat and wide, licks up to my clit eagerly. Teasing me with his fingers, I roll my hips up and a pitiful moan escapes me as he tenderly bites my clit. Tusks framing my pussy as he goes to town, I’m soon lost to the sensation, whimpering and begging for more as he starts to fuck me with his fingers, opening me up for his cock. He braces an arm across my hips and I squeeze my thighs tight around his head as I reach a high that has me trembling and clenching around his fingers.

I stare up at his ceiling, chest heaving as Var crawls up my body, his cock nestling sweetly against my throbbing cunt as he gently strokes my face. I give him a dreamy little grin, returning the gesture but dragging my hand down his neck and caressing his shoulder. His lips meet mine and our kiss is slow and passionate as he rocks his hips against mine slowly.

“You taste so perfect, baby.” He groans. “I can’t wait to feel you stretched out around my cock.”

I shudder and kiss him again. “Then fuck me now.”

He pulls back slightly, and I turn my gaze to where our bodies touch. His dark green skin contrasts against mine perfectly, and I watch as the plump head of his cock drags over my sensitive clit a few times before he notches himself against me. Pushing my one knee down toward my chest and the other to the side, he begins to inch his way inside me. I whine at the stretch, and a breathy grunt leaves his lips. We rock against each other for a while, stretching me out slowly until he fully sinks inside. Tears grace my eyes at the burn and I arch against him as he moans into my neck.

“You feel so good filling me like this.” I sob as he pulls out and thrusts back into me, balls slapping against my ass.

Our movements grow furious and eager, driving me wild and melting me down as I soak his cock. He frees himself and I begin to whine at the loss before he flips me around onto my hands and knees. I arch my back, pushing my plump ass out at him as I wiggle it. His large hand comes down and slaps my ass sharply, though I hear him chuckle deeply as I yelp.

“Asshole.” I mutter as I peer over my shoulder. “Don’t tease.”

His gaze, dark and stuck on my cunt as I wiggle my ass again, does not raise to mine. “You’re a brat, Little Flower. You’ve teased me for months, but you can’t handle it in turn? What a shame.”

I frown, and open my mouth to retort, but he uses a hand to spread my ass cheeks before sliding the tip of his cock over my soaking hole, then sinking inside in one thrust. I swear under my breath and he grunts.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby.” He mutters, watching himself spread me open.

We set a furious pace, his balls smacking against me, though I barely let him pull away before I’m pushing back, his throbbing cock spearing deeper inside my tiny pussy again and again. His breath is heavy in my ear as he leans over my back., so big in every way.

I tremble and gasp as his hand tenderly caresses my plush tummy before arriving at my clit , his finger beginning to make small circles. “I want to feel you cum your pretty little brains out before I fill your slutty cunt up. Come on.”

My eyes roll back into my head on a particularly hard thrust, and I nod feverishly as I clench down around him. “Please, oh my god.” I beg. “Cum inside me.”

I orgasm, shuddering and crying out loudly. Var’s head tilts back and he roars as he cums, hips stuttering as he fills me up. The warmth of him is so overwhelming, I clench down around him as I ride the tail end of my climax, head swimming and face smushed into the cushion. His knees on either side of mine, he pulls me up, leaning back and my full weight causes his cock to push against my cervix. I squirm at the sensation I know shouldn’t feel this good as he turns my head towards him and I whimper into the kiss he places on my lips.

Var kisses down my neck, and I moan softly.

“I’m going to keep this pussy stuffed full for the rest of our lives, Little Flower.” He says darkly. “I’m yours.”

Aching in the best way, I trail my finger over my clit. “And I yours.”

[shangchiswife]

dating aragorn headcanons!

hi guys this is the first time in a while that i've written something so i hope that you enjoy. i just recently rewatched lord of the rings and i'm obsessed with aragorn again so here are some headcanons!

aragorn x gn!reader

Aragorn is the biggest gentleman ever. You basically won the lottery when you started dating him.

The lyrics “In a world of boys he’s a gentleman” are about him 100%. Taylor Swift you are not slick at all.

Do not be fooled by his rugged looks, this man is the biggest romantic. He will plan the most romantic dates for the two of you even when he’s busy trying to be King. Even when he’s busy with his kingly duties he will still find a way to shower you with affection. Whether it’s leaving little love notes on your nightstand or bringing you a flower bouquet, he always wants you to make sure that you know that he’s thinking about you.

Aragorn’s love language is through acts of service. He wants to do everything for you. You are his first priority. You’re not feeling well? He’ll drop everything in his schedule to make sure you’re alright. Your weapons aren’t clean? He’ll clean them no problem. You’re cold? Bro will gladly take off his shirt and give it to you so that you’re not cold anymore.

When you guys were trekking through Middle Earth this man made sure that you got as much rest as possible

“Aragorn it’s my turn to take watch” you had said, rubbing your eyes with exhaustion. He walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re still tired, rest, sweet one, I’ll take care of it.” “But-” “No buts,” he said as he pushed you down gently. “Alright well I’m taking your shift tomorrow night,” you grumbled as you put your head in his lap and immediately fell asleep.

Let's just say he didn’t let you take the shift the next day.

He is soooo overprotective of you. He’s always been very protective over those he cares about but he’s especially protective over you since you’re his number one priority. Aragorn's actions are driven by genuine concern and love. He simply cannot bear the thought of losing those he holds dear and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

He’s the person who taught you how to fight. You were so embarrassingly bad at first but Aragorn never once made fun of you. He was patient even as you started getting annoyed with training. He was determined to make you a great fighter and it worked.

During the fellowship, you fought fearlessly alongside Aragorn and took down hundreds of orcs together. At one point, Merry even playfully called you guys a power couple because of how hard you both fought together, which made you both grin at each other.

You and Aragorn are basically the hobbits’ parents. They all love you so much and look up to you both with the utmost respect. You both admire them a lot too. Their loyalty and determination never fail to inspire both of you to keep going, even when things get tough and the future feels uncertain.

You’re also best friends with Gimli and Legolas. They have so much respect for you. They are also always trying to one-up each other when it comes to you so they can be your favorite. Spoiler alert you could never choose between them!

Gimli often pretends to be grossed out by displays of affection between you and Aragorn, and likes to tease the two of you with mock disgust. “Oh, just get a room already!” he’d say which would make you and Aragorn laugh. However, deep down, he secretly harbors a soft spot for romance and enjoys witnessing the love and affection between you two. He may grumble and groan about it on the surface, but in reality, he finds it heartwarming to see the bond you share and the happiness you bring each other. 

Aragorn isn’t really big on PDA but once you’re alone together, he's affectionate and attentive, making sure you feel cherished and cared for in every moment you share.

In public, he keeps it subtle with affection, but every now and then, he'll gently caress your palms or hold your hand, just enough to let you know he's there. It's his quiet way of showing love without drawing too much attention.

This man loves to give you forehead kisses. Whether you're feeling on top of the world or weighed down by the challenges of the day, Aragorn's forehead kisses are his way of saying that he’s always going to be there for you.

You often find yourself snuggled against his chest, your hand resting over his heart while his arm encircles you protectively. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, a soothing sensation that relaxes you. 

He also has the softest singing voice. It’s so pretty. He mostly sings old Elvish tunes but sometimes he’ll sing some songs in English.

You and Aragorn both share a love for animals, and you often find yourselves adopting stray creatures in need of a home. He's clearly a dog person through and through (I don't make the rules), but he has a soft spot for cats as well.

You love it when Aragorn tells you stories about his past. Whenever he starts recounting his adventures, you're all ears, completely mesmerized by his past. Secretly he loves your fascination with his stories and it fills him with a quiet sense of warmth.

You have a shared love for adventure and often find yourselves exploring new places together, whether it's hiking through scenic landscapes or just going around Gondor.

He is also the best listener. You tend to yap a lot but he does not seem to care at all. He will listen attentively, asking questions every so often, drinking in your every word. He always wants to make sure that you feel heard. 

Aragorn also dreams about starting a family with you. He's always imagined the joy of being a father and raising children together, but he'll only take that step if you're both on board and excited about it. Your comfort and readiness are his top priorities, and he wants nothing more than to embark on this adventure together, hand in hand.

[fumifooms]

do you happen to have that page that talks about the beauty standards of each race?

Yeah sure. While scavenging pics for this I found this neat reddit compilation & chart & theory talk too. I had um, way more to say than I anticipated (I know you only wanted the one page. I have nothing to say for myself. Like most topics in Dunmeshi things snowball because they’re so interconnected. Mercy…) so, many races and observations are only mentioned near the bottom.

Beauty standards and race in Dungeon Meshi

Not pictured there’s also how elven society is harsh on visibly disabled people, and how the demon took away Mithrun’s silver eyes and ears to take away his pride. There’s also how Senshi might have fit in with the orcs more easily because of the dwarven wide body shape, and how they tend to have more body hair too I suppose. In the extra on orcs we see Senshi living with the orcs and he gets judged because of the hierarchy rather than his looks.

What is fashionable also differs from culture to culture, and there’s how tattoos only seem common with elves, though dwarves and others do also sometimes have some. They seem to not raise much brows, which makes sense since for many essentially they’re for professional (magical) purposes especially with elves. Gender roles also differ in type and importance, but generally they are similar to irl ones for the races we see. Elven society seems to be the least gendered, which would be an unsurprising logical outcome of having lesser sexual dimorphism aka they look more androgynous. Comparing fashions and gender roles and how they affect beauty standards would be a whole other compilation and conversation. Kui has great worldbuilding partially because she’s got such a good grasp on sociopolitics and geopolitics. History affects cultures and beauty standards greatly. Kui’s oneshot Distant Utopia was very eye opening on her way to worldbuild and the consideration she gives these things, I do really recommend reading it.

Out of the big 5, we know the least about gnomes, but their sheet does say both culture and region are similar to dwarves’ and they end up being confused together often, so we can imagine the beauty standards are similar to dwarves’ as well.

I wanted to touch on this in a post eventually, but how one daydream hour page said half-foots tended to be curvaceous like in the artwork below puzzled me for a long time, all the half-foot characters we see during canon are rather slender and lanky after all, Chil’s succubi also being more curvy than plump. Economics are for sure a factor in that I imagine, the half-foots characters we see are all implied to be some flavor of poor or malnourished, as are half-foots depicted as empoverished oppressed minorities in general. Even comparing the artwork with the half-foot sheet’s depicted average half-foot, the ones on the left seem bigger. Wouldn’t it make sense though, if unlike dwarves half-foots don’t have similar naturally wide bodies, yet due to idolizing dwarves they work towards having a similar body shape/type to emulate them?

It’s said half-foots tend to stick to pretty ethnically homogeneous regions (aka half-foots-only communities) unless they move to the big city with ambition to try and make it big (like Chilchuck and his wife & kids did), and that’s interesting imo because then that would mean that in a ton of half-foot communities, they rarely see or interact with dwarves whom they try to emulate. Of course, one thing about beauty standards is that when they get adopted, at one point it stops being "this is how dwarves look and so this is how half-foots should look" and just becomes "this is how half-foots should look", most people feel as though beauty standards aren’t learned but innate, so I figure the half-foots wouldn’t have any problem still seeking dwarvish traits when there are no dwarves around.

There’s also stuff you can glean here and there if you want to extrapolate more. Like how in the race swap artworks, Mickbell is only smiling in the dwarf portrait, and Rin’s elven portrait looks very close to her elven one- Rin who is stated to be beautiful in her profile blurb. Benichidori’s extra does teach us tallmen can definitely have harsh beauty standards, but also since the text portrays her as very dysmorphic that’s likely reflected in her thoughts to a much more intense degree than is common, not an accurate strict baseline to go off. Ah, Kabru’s blue eyes are also why he and his mother lived a rough life in Kabru’s hometown, but that seems to be regional. Good post here on the topic of Kabru’s blue eyes and ties to irl history. There’s a lot to be said about Kabru being a man that in many ways is close to elven beauty standards, and how that might have affected or been affected by his upbringing with elves + his persona as someone that can effortlessly charm most people. Marcille’s section here in this essay also goes into Marcille’s struggles to fit in with the ideal image of an elf.

Looking human

Also notable are beastkins and demihumans: Demihumans are all dehumanized which makes people treat them worse. So if you differ from the visual idea of "human" (an in-world subjective categorizatiom just as much as demihuman is) most people do judge you negatively. Elves and dwarves get to fight about which type of human is considered the prettiest, but demihumans are below tallmen and half-foots, they are considered as simply below the beauty contest, incompatible with it.

Onis are perhaps the demihuman people we know of with the least cultural influence on the dunmeshi world, and with less intensely different appearances than other demihumans, but even them are treated as lesser than human, treated as beasts to slain for reputation points or useful strength to have around and command. It’s said their "magnificient horns" and fangs are often shaven off when the oni lives in tallman towns, so you could easily make the argument that onis are denied the right to have their own beauty standards, having to conform to other people’s and going through mutilation to take away features they might otherwise have taken pride in. Inutade was bought by the Nakamotos from a dangerous sumo fighting ring that got one of Inutade’s tooth broken on her first and only fight. Remember when I said different fashions existed in dunmeshi and how those could also affect beauty standatds? Like the elves, if you look at the portraits pages that include a lot of characters that aren’t in the story you can see distinct cultures within the same races, for example one young elf is bald which is in sharp contrast with usual elven long luscious hairstyles, and that’s especially true for onis I think. Maybe not only from different regions but different eras as well… They have a bit of population in the very north of the western continent, so I like to think some of the ogres live in very cold, maybe even subarctic conditions. The point I’m getting at here is that within a race, culture/ethnicity like with Kabru as well will also influence them, different communities will have differing beauty standards. The oni history blurb and third row first collumn portrait remind me of Mongolia (which historically was a lot of different nomadic communities with different cultural identities as well. Something something, the oni empire experienced a decline and then tallmen overpowered them, and now they’re governed and split apart by stronger social classes & slavers and the richness of culture was hurt for it), but obviously many of them are dressed and look rather japanese, makes sense considering living in/close to Wa, and first row second collumn portrait reminds me of ainus which again would be logical considering geographical placement, though I’m far from an expert. Interestingly, ainus are indigenous people both in Japan and Russia- Perhaps the northern western continent ogres are meant to be closer to Russia than Canada like I imagined? Ok tangent over.

The kobold sheet says they’re especially sought after as slaves because they’re "adorable", but locally in the western continent they’re repeatedly said to be seen more as ferocious and dangerous. The dehumanization is most apparent in the first comic below. The language barrier and conflicts no doubt worsen this by a lot, but I think it’d be hard to deny that their canine appearance makes the dehumanization worse. "They’re ferocious beasts, they’re demihumans, they can’t be communicated with". Most characters in Dungeon Meshi’s world are desensitized to slavery and most characters are prejudiced one way or another. Point being, kobolds are fully removed from human beauty standards, but no doubt for kobolds, other kobolds are more beautiful than humans are. They’re assumed to be an uncivilized bunch, but just like any other people they like to aforn themselves with nice clothes and jewelry and keep themselves clean and groomed; they too take care of their appearance and take pride in it.

And the orcs! This one we have the most contact with in canon, with not only there being foreigner characters from the ethnicity or hearsay of their homelands and culture but full on contact with a community. We get to see up close what they’re like and what they think, and of course in turn they’re our introduction to how demihumans are harshly looked down upon and seen as inferior, less human and thus less worth valuing and less dignified. It’s text that orcs are ugly to most humans and humans are ugly to most orcs. Since I judged they didn’t need accompanying explanation the pictures showing this are in the pictures dump at the top.

God forbid you sell vegetables to orcs my god- but then again they do basically mandate adventurers to kill any orcs they come across so yeah the world isn’t above that even a bit.

So yes, my main point here is simply that orcs are yet another evidence of the physical ideal of "human" being an important beauty standard for human societies globally.

Izutsumi is our glimpse at how beastkins are treated in the world, and in Wa at least that’s ending up being caged and mistreated as part of a freak show. Izutsumi hates her appearance and wishes she could leave the feline part of herself behind to only be human. Interestingly, not that we have a lot of info on them so this is very much a take with a grain of salt situation, but there seems to be less stigma around artificial beastmen, those who can shapeshift at will. The main difference is of course appearance, that most of the time they simply look like average tattooed humans. Artificially creating humans is an illegal practice, and no doubt it’s not well regarded, but being able to hide that makes them less likely to be discriminated at any moment, or even just discriminated less intensely. Again, looking human is important, not only for belonging but for safety’s sake. Beauty standards rule the world with harsh hands.

Mermaids and fishmen

Ok we’re done now right? Right-! But wait… Wait…! Mermaids and fishmen are said to be demihumans too, special separate cases to the main three demihuman species however, which is also represented by how mermaids and fishmen both are in the Adventurer’s Bible chapter Monsters meanwhile ogres, kobolds and orcs are in the chapter World. They’re an interesting topic because they directly tackle this topic, not only in a meta way for the readers but also making characters themselves struggle to quantify their humanity with the goal of knowing wether they should be eaten or not, especially Chilchuck. Chilchuck’s "is it really just a matter of feelings?" mini arc.

The party asking themselves "Should we eat this?" is very common, and often they end up playing a little loose on morality, like eating the red dragon’s meat despite it having digested Falin. Not unsimilarly Marcille freaks out a little over the vegetables they harvested having been grown with fertilizer, aka largely human poo. Half of the motivation of "should we eat this perhaps sentient creature" is out of consideration and compassion, but more strongly and more often, the characters struggle with a sense of taboo at eating something too closely related to humans. Even, feel uncomfortable because of the deepseated impression that eating it would dirty them in some way. Cannibalism is an interesting and relevant topic in many ways, but what I want to mention is how there’s the more or less universal belief that committing cannibalism inherently taints you as a person and turns you more monstrous, morally but also literally depending on some myths such as w*ndigos and onis in some cases, like in Touge Oni. Marcille and Izutsumi both express a fear of eating monsters turning them monstrous. Maybe this is part of what Laios was hoping for, honestly. There are two fears here, if eating a demihuman monster constitutes as cannibalism or not, and so, will eating it taint you because it’s a human, or will eating it taint you because it’s a monster? You are what you eat, until it’s a little too literal. You morally are the means by which you get your food, and you physically are the result of your nutrition. Dungeon meshi manages to mix an exploration of humanity with the theme of food because our relationship to food is very deep and complex, psychological as much as physiological.

In the end, the characters sort of shrug and accept that they’ll never quite understand the world of mermaids and fishmen and how they operate, and what that means about them. Laios is the one always challenging these notions other characters take for granted, it’s not obvious to Laios why people are softer on mammals than other animals and plants, it’s not obvious to Laios why people would be afraid of eating a monster just because it’s a monster, it’s not obvious to Laios why some food is gross to Marcille but not fish testicles, it’s not obvious to Laios why you should immediately regard orcs and kobolds badly.

"Cows are probably closer to humans [aka closer to being human] than fishmen, though they’re clearly intelligent", dehumanization to lessen empathy towards them to be able to eat them. Meanwhile, mermaids seemingly have a less noticeable "civilization" or intelligence, they hunt in groups like fishmen, but they don’t use tools and such, they feel more primal and similarly instinct driven, and yet… Do they attract sympathy more? Mammals, humans, is it because of their nature or because of their appearance?

Both the nature and appearance of fish are ones people don’t typically sympathize with. "Fish don’t feel pain", "goldfish only have 5 seconds of memory", "it’s okay to keep in bowls too small and empty for them until they die", so many lies and misconceptions exist that make people less considerate of them. The average lifespan of a goldfish is 10-15 years, the record is 43, but they’re not seen as lives that really matter, so a lot of goldfish die in a few weeks of bad aquarium conditions. There’s a lot of research on animals evolving to look cute and appealing to make some predators want to kill them less and parents want to care for them more, including humans. First good google research result gave me this credible short article on the topic. In Chilchuck’s weighing wether a fishman is far enough from being human or not, "face is 100% fish" is his biggest argument for it being more acceptable. The face, the most important thing for empathy and recognition. The face, the decapitated fishman one that falls into his hands next chapter.

To quote @room-surprise: "Chilchuck can't explain why it's wrong to eat the merpeople, even though it's NOT complicated. But the problem is Chilchuck would have to accept and acknowledge that the merpeople might be people? And that's outside of the worldview he passively believes, so he can't just say that, because he doesn't think that's true. But that IS why he "feels" it's wrong. And it's all you'd need to say for Laios to understand! But it would require acknowledging that maybe the way they're treating and talking about the merpeople is wrong."

The idea of Chil not being able to grapple with how maybe some monsters are more humans than they seem, him who had been an advocate of half-foots rights, half-foots who get undermined and treated as inconsequential sacrifices… Grappling with how he could relate to the merpeople’s situation almost, and pulling away because it’s so existentially horrifying. I do not want to see myself into an hostile fish-faced warrior I can’t communicate with. In a way this also relates to Chilchuck being the only party member who doesn’t see Izutsumi as a cat in the relationshio chart, the only one to treat her with full human dignity. He knows the struggle to be taken seriously, he knows being infantilized and he knows what it’s like to be treated as less than human.

Below, you will see Chilchuck draws the line of where they become not okay to eat as when "they already look like mermaids". Above, there’s speculation that the algae hair is partly to mimic "the mermaids’ beautiful female form". Is it because mermaids are their enemies and the ambiguity might give them extra seconds to attack or flee? Is it to trick adventurers instead? It’s striking to me that this is what works, with the adventurers. Sure the fishmen are intelligent, but explicitly here, what makes them no longer acceptable prey to Chilchuck is that they look close enough to a mermaid, close enough to human. Mermaids who of course themselves have this form to entice and seduce and charm the adventurers they prey on. Chilchuck considers the intelligence due to the tridents, but most of his internal debate centers around their appearance, and the image of a fishman skewered sickens him. The power of mimicry… Mimic being a beautiful human woman. Mimic being cute, babies being wired to make us feel protective and softened. Half-foots, sometimes pretending to be children for scams or help or avoiding trouble.

The mermaids are only concerned by their differences and not their similarities, and have no trouble treating the fishmen as food rather than peers. To an outside perspective like us, the audience, all these categorization of "more human" and "less human" between onis and orcs and elves and tallmen etc seem stupid and unfounded, but to the people living in Dungeon Meshi’s world, elves may as well be mermaids while onis are fishmen, not alike at all, unworthy of empathy and thus fine to eat.

Ultimately, Dungeon Meshi promotes unity. It’s about seeking to understand the unknown and the misunderstood, the dehumanized and the inhuman. It shows the good that comes from seeking to understand what you do not, even when that’s one another.

[shirefantasies]

Hello again! I have another request that came to me as I was submitting a different one. How do you think Thorin's or the LOTR companies would react to reader having a buzzcut. Especially for dwarves who pride themselves in long intricately done hair and braids. Would they think something bad must've happened to the reader for them to have short hair. Cue misunderstandings and fluff, with maybe hair petting(buzzcuts are super soft!) Hope this sounds interesting enough to do, have a good day again! :)

(I literally lied on my last post THIS is my last pre-op post by the 45 minutes left before my operation appointment)

Heck yeah friend I love this! I don’t quite have a buzzcut but my hair’s far shorter than the average lady’s & definitely so for a dwarf, so I wonder about this too 😁 hope you enjoy 🥰 Warnings: a little violence in one reaction, injury mention in another

Thorin’s Company When You Have a Buzzcut

Balin

“You’re causing quite a stir with everyone, you know that?” Giving a chuckle at Balin’s cheeky look, you lean forward with your chin upon your hand. “And why is that?” “At risk of offense,” the older dwarf answered, “they all want to know what happened to your hair.” “Yourself included,” you shot back with a grin, “or else you’d not be asking.” Taken aback, Balin stutters a bit. “Ah, well, I confess I am a bit curious, after all. Reminds me of when my brother first took all his off. What a stir over something so silly. Do what you like, I was just wondering if Dwalin was trying to get you all painted up too.” “Not yet,” your smile softens and you give him a wink, “but if he does you’ll be the first to know. Ahead of all the sensation.”

Dwalin

You start the conversation on this one, seeing that Dwalin is the other company member with little to no hair upon his head and considering it a bonding opportunity. “Well, I’ve got a reason,” he shoots back to your comment of similarity, arms crossed but expression teasing, “what’s yours? You need some tattoos up there at least.” “No thank you,” you tell him, “if I’m adding any tattoos it won’t be on top of my head! Feel how soft it is up here.” Dwalin looks at you, prompting you to take his hand and put it on top of your head, his eyebrows raising at the sensation. And perhaps because touching one’s hair is a much closer and more intimate thing for him than perhaps you realize. You are quite forward, aren’t you?

Thorin

Pays little mind to how you wear your hair…or lack thereof. In fact, by your appearance he gauges you to be a warrior of some kind, thus taking command of your actions in a fight and seeking proof of your prowess. Before your first encounter with a threat the king’s questions are more along the lines of “What is your weapon of choice?” and “From where in these lands do you hail?” The day the company fights a pack of orcs, you manage to take down more than Thorin expected and at one point, you even jump in front of Dori to parry before a potentially deadly strike takes him off guard. Rising from the struggle of battle, black blood splattered across your layers and even your shaven head, you feel a hand upon your shoulder. Thorin. "It can be hard for us to look beyond our own kin," he tells you, "but you have well proven yourself today. We may not always understand each other, but there is a beauty in that, too, I see."

Oin

Wincing despite your gratitude, you shifted in your seated position while Oin packed the poultice into the wound your side had suffered. "Don't worry, you'll go numb in a bit. If it stings, that is quite alright, that simply means you are getting clean again." Thanking him through heavy breaths, you watched as the dwarf reached a hand up toward your head, running a hand over the soft, shorn little bit of cover it had. "And this one's healing quite nicely, quite nicely indeed. Why, I cannot even see the scar!" The sting in your bloody side faded down a bit as you tilted your head to fix Oin right in the eyes. "What scar?" "Did they not have to sew up your head at some point? Figured that's why they shaved you down," he answered, finally removing his hand from your head. You giggled at that, regretted stretching yourself at a new, though much smaller, arc of pain. "No, my dear Oin, I am afraid the only thing my head has suffered is my typical madness," you teased, waving your hands mystically and grinning at the way the healer laughed.

Gloin

"Pardon me, my dear," your name rolled smoothly off Gloin's tongue as he shuffled forth, hands folded in front of him in the picture of innocence. Oh, this was going to be good. "Yes?" You indulged him, swiveling to give your full attention. The auburn-haired dwarf pointed to his head, his own flowing locks. "What happened t'yer hair?" Perhaps sheepishly, his voice suddenly quickened. Feeling your eyebrows involuntarily raise, you tilted your head- this was not exactly what you’d expected, after all. “I cut it,” you shrugged, “got tired of how it was before. Simply wanted a new beginning, you could say.” Gloin’s eyes never left yours. “So no accident?” “No.” “Ha!” The dwarf bellowed, waggling a hand at his brother and a small scattering of company members a ways back. “I was right! By choice! Now pay up and remember I told ya it was worth the risk!” Shaking your head, you playfully smack him on the shoulder. “I’d better get a cut from this, you ol’ scallywag!”

Bifur

Catching Bifur signing, you turn his way, seeing the motions he performs by his head. “Did you cut your hair yourself?” You realize he is asking. “No,” you sign back, “another did it for me.” “You must trust them a great deal.” Simple enough words signed and yet there is something in the way his eyes shine, the fond inquisition in his smile, that brings a little shock of joy to you. Barring royal dressings, it was far more common for one to do their own hair or entrust it to a loved one, and you could see intimacy in the act. It almost brought a pang of regret that it was just some small-town hairdresser that sheared it at your asking and payment. Your hands freeze for a moment as your eyes search Bifur before you finally sign a response. “I suppose. Perhaps if you ever want to do something different with your hair, I could help you, too.”

Bofur

A mix between caring and teasing, he offers you cover! “Your head looks cold. Need to borrow my hat?” Thinks he’s so funny he laughs at his own joke whether you roll your eyes or joke back. “But really, any particular reason you took it all off?” "It was uncomfortable having it long," you admit, "I was tired of it all being in my face." The way everyone spoke of dwarven culture, you half expect disapproval, but this is Bofur you speak of. Instead he nods acceptingly, smiling in that way that always has you feeling seen and reassured. "I understand that." "You do?" "Sure I do! Why do you think I keep mine braided out to the sides like this?" At that, you smile back. "Besides," he continues, "helps me see all the best sights. The trees, the flowers, that smile of yours..."

Bombur

“Singe all your hair off?” Bombur nods sagely despite the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. “I’ve been there. Burned my beard leaning too far over the stove.” You can’t even correct him right away because you’re too busy laughing. Finally, though, you explain to him that your hair was simply so unhealthy it needed to start over. “Ah, I see, I see! Trying to take better care of it, then?” At that, you nod. He looks at you with new interest, eyes shining eagerly. “So what would you like to do with it next? I’ve got some things you might like to put in it, and I think it would look mighty nice if you wanted to try…”

Dori

"Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," Dori remarks one day, rolling blue eyes illuminated beneath the sun that peeked between the branches. Shifting carefully so as to not disturb your pony, you turned back to face him. "Do what?" "Cut all my hair off just to save some time in the morning!" He replied with a wave of a hand in your general direction. Chuckling, you gave a conceding nod. "I suppose you would gain back an hour, wouldn't you?" At that, it was Dori's turn to laugh. "But then again," you continued, "then you couldn't wear as many of those nice clips and cases. That is one thing I miss about having it all." Puffing up like a proud little bird, Dori smiled. "They are quite nice, aren't they? You know, if you ever get so bored you're tempted to let it all come back, I could make you some of your own."

Nori

Abrasive as it was, Nori's question found you in a way that raised such amusement you forgot to be upset with him entirely, instead simply falling back with a bark of laughter before you answered. "Looks like you're tryin' to hide your identity. You on the run from someone?" He continued musing, in fact, as you laughed. "Law somewhere? A scorned lover? Simply run off with something too valuable not to do that?" Finally, your voice returned. "All this because I've sheared my head down?" You burst out incredulously. "Ever consider," you gasped in mock-scandal, "I like it like this?" "Sure, but that's not exciting," Nori shot back with a smirk, "I like a good story." "Well," you crossed your arms, "perhaps I still have some of those, too."

Ori

Shuffling up to you was the youngest dwarf in the company, sweet Ori; Ori was one of the dwarves who accepted outsiders most readily, and you spent plenty of time at his side watching his drawings and records come to life. That day, though, what was in his hand was not his book, rather a bundle of fabric. "I made this for you." Eyes widening, you extend your hands to accept the soft knitting, peering back at Ori. "I thought your head must get cold," he explained his craft as you unfolded it, revealing a thick, sturdy cap you immediately began pulling onto your head, "does it fit?" Yarn hugging your head perfectly, you nodded. "It's just my size. Thank you." Before he could speak again, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me in some time. Thank you."

Fili

“One of my braids came undone. Kili?” The younger Durin prince seemingly did not hear the request for his presence, so you stepped forward. “I can help.” Goggling at you, Fili posed a question. “Do you even know how?” Hand falling to your hip, you shot him a look. “Though I may not possess them myself, I am quite capable of doing them up.” The golden-haired dwarf looked sheepish, a bit of the mischief fading from his blue eyes. “Suppose I assumed you didn’t much enjoy doing them either,” he told you with a nod toward your head. “Well,” a teasing smile drifted across your face, “I certainly would…unless you are scared.” You were no fool. You knew how the Durins were with challenges. And if you remembered correctly, you knew how dwarves were with braids…

Kili

He cares some of the least out of the dwarves being the least traditionally presenting himself. He’s sort of the type to be a little attracted to everyone, enjoying the unique traits of all types of people. You still cannot help being a bit surprised when he flirts with you, though, not expecting someone with a cut like yours to catch his eye or draw his teasing. “Not one for a courting braid, I see? No one worthy of putting one on you, no doubt.” For all his jesting questions, he never actually demands an answer, though. Instead he simply launches into a story about a haircut prank he pulled with his older brother once to keep light conversation flowing. “Well, by the end of it our uncle looked quite like you! Except he didn’t pull it off half as well.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins | Let me know if you'd like to join!

[spacebarbarianweird]

Be Careful, She Bites!

Synopsis: What happens if you snatch a dhampir-baby without her consent

Based on @elora-the-slutty-songstress idea!

Tags: fluff, dadstarion, Alethaine bites, a snippet of the future

Alethaine's age: 4.5

Thanks @themadlufor beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Daggerlake is a peaceful town far from the troubles of richer places. On most days.

But not today.

A gang of bandits attacked the town in the middle of the night burning the huts and taverns on its surface. 

Death, blood, and gore – that’s what entered through the gates.

“Kitten,” Alethaine hears her mother’s voice through the veil of sleep. “Kitten, wake up.”

Alethaine opens her pitch-black eyes. Tiriel sits on the bed, wearing her spider silk armor. 

“Hm?” Alethaine is still half asleep but can already hear the distant sounds of a fight.

And she also smells blood.

“The town is under attack, we are going up. Come on,” Tiriel takes her daughter in her arms and heads to the basement. 

Astarion is already there, donning a light armor as black as Alethaine’s night dress. 

“Princess, you sit there,” he says to her. “And don’t go unless we or someone you know comes to get you.” 

Alethaine nods.

“And if someone notices you, run to the ceiling.”

“And what if they can run to the ceiling too?” She yawns. Now she is afraid too. Both her parents are leaving and she is going to be in the house all alone. 

“Then run as fast as you can.” Tiriel places her on a bench and gives her a plushie dragon, also black, and a wooden doll. “We will be back soon.”

Alethaine nods watching her parents leave. Tiriel goes first, she is going to engage in the fight with her battle ax. Astarion will hide in the shadows ready to peel someone’s skin off. 

And the little dhampir is going to stay here. 

In the dark.

She almost doesn’t hear the sounds of the fight, but the basement is uncomfortable and cold. One blanket is absolutely not enough to warm her feet and Alethaine presses the dragon plushie to her chest.

What if her parents don’t come back?

What if they get killed?

Who is going to take care of her? Maybe she will have to live on her own? Alethaine remembers a story she once read – it was about a girl whose parents were enslaved by Drows and she had to survive all by herself till she met a kind wizard who took her into his tower to teach magic. Alethaine actually did like that story (especially when the girl learned how to cast fireballs), but the part of the main character being all alone in a big cold house made the dhampir so sad she came to her parent’s bed to sleep.

Alethaine places the plushie in front of her.

“...I am Aurix the wyvern! Who dares to challenge me?!” She tries to imitate the voice of a big scary dragon. “I am the princess of all elves, I am not afraid of you!” Alethaine places the doll in front of him. “My father taught me sword fighting and my mother taught me dark magic!”

The door slams above Alethaine and the girl gets silent.

Those aren’t her parents. 

“Check all the rooms for something valuable! This place looks well off!” She hears a hoarse female voice. “And go check the basement!”

Alethaine moves to the darkest corner of the basement. Oh no, are they going to kidnap her? They totally are. And they will eat her, that’s for sure, that’s what bad people do to little girls!

A half-orc comes down the stairs and immediately notices a chest with gold and silver in the opposite corner of the basement.

“I told you they keep valuable things here! These people are adventurers!”

The other bandit, a one-eyed human male, follows her, but something else catches his attention.

“Look at this!” He chuckles playing with a dagger. “It seems like the host is home! What is your name, fairy?”

Alethaine presses her back against the wall. These people are bad. They are going to do something bad to her, she knows it.

“Answer me, fairy, or I’ll get angry!”

“I am not allowed to speak with strangers.” she mutters. 

“Hey, don’t hurt her '' The half-orc says. “If her parents make it through the fight, we can ask for a ransom.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you can do whatever you want with her.”

The man grabs Alethaine’s long hair. “Come on, little fairy! We will not…” He laughs. “Hurt you.”

“LET ME GO!!!” She cries out as the man lifts her up. The bandit smells horrible – of sweat, dirt, and blood. “Let me go!”

“I saw rope in the kitchen. Make sure she doesn’t scream.”

Alethaine squirms trying to set herself free but the man grabbing her is too strong.

“Interesting teeth you have,” he suddenly notices. “Aren’t they too big?”

Teeth.

There are many things Alethaine isn’t allowed to do. Talk with strangers. Go into the woods alone. Be outside after sunset.

Bite people she doesn’t like. 

Alethaine makes a screeching sound and bites the man’s neck.

Fangs easily pierce the skin and rip the artery. Alethaine immediately pulls away clenching her teeth as the blood splashes her face and head, soaking her black dress and the toys that lie on the floor.

There is one more rule, the most serious of them all.

Don’t try to take someone’s blood. Something bad will happen if she tastes it. 

“What the…” The half-orc exclaims seeing her partner falling dead on the stone floor. “Fuck!”

The half-orc rushes upstairs dropping whatever she’s collected in the Ancunins’ basement.

Alethaine sits on the floor. Now she isn’t only cold, she also feels disgusting as the blood covers her body.

She wipes her mouth.

And how the fuck does dad even drink it, she thinks. 

The man takes his final breath and Alethaine hears its heart beating its last.

Alethaine looks at herself. She is soaked in blood. Her hair, her dress, her skin, even her toys. 

And no one is around.

She feels tears pricking her eyes and she starts crying. 

“Stupid bandit!” Alethaine kicks him with her leg. “Stupid!”

She tries to wipe herself with a blanket but it’s too thick. And now the blanket is dirty too and Alethaine starts bawling, rubbing her eyes.

**

“Fuck, my ax got stuck,” Tiriel mutters trying to set her weapon free. The half-ork’s armor is made of something weird and the blade won’t come out. 

Astarion presses his leg to the dead bandit’s chest and Tiriel finally releases the ax.

“Now I need to bathe and sleep,” She says. “Come on!” Tiriel takes her husband’s hand. Astarion looks the same as he did a couple of hours ago. If it wasn’t for his blood-stained clothes and hair, that’s for sure.

They walk back home in silence, though Astarion keeps making jokes about dumb people who chose the wrong town to attack.

“Stop,” Tiriel says. “Something is wrong.”

“The door is open,” Astarion notices it too. “But no one is inside.”

Tiriel feels a knot in her stomach – the worst thing that could have happened did happen.

Someone was in their house.

Someone could have hurt Alethaine.

“I am going to rip their spines out,” Astarion bares his fangs and rushes inside. Tiriel follows him.

At first, Tiriel doesn't exactly understand what she sees.

There is a dead man on the floor with his throat ripped out.

Alethaine sits beside the body all covered in dried blood, sniffing and hiccupping. 

“Mum, dad,” she hiccups again. She tries to say something else but bursts into tears once again.

Astarion lifts her up and Tiriel caresses her back.

“It’s all right, baby kitten, we are here.”

Alethaine wraps her arms around Astarion’s neck.

“I peed myself,” she says, much quieter. 

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

Alethaine shakes her head but Tiriel senses her daughter’s fear. Poor girl! All alone with people who could do all possible horrible things to her!

“I will wash her,” Astarion says. “Get some rest.”

“Are you hungry, kitten?” Tiriel asks. Alethaine nods. “I will cook something.”

“Perks of being a vampire – I am never hungry after a fight” He grins.

Alethaine sniffs and Tiriel squeezes her little fingers, assuring her baby that she is safe now.

**

The tub with warm water feels much nicer than usual. Astarion splashes water over Aletaine's head and she rubs her hands and legs with a sponge.

“I wasn't scared!” She says. “I just bit him like a vampire!”

“He got what he deserved,” Astarion takes another sponge to rinse her back. “You are such a fierce little girl”

“I am!” Alethaine proudly says. “I was playing as a princess fighting the dragon!”

“And did she kill the dragon?”

“What? No! Who kills dragons?! Only bad people kill them, Dad, everyone knows it! She was going to challenge him and become a dragon rider! She is an elf like you and me but she has red hair like Mum. And she is also a princess, her father is the king of all elves.”

“Does he rule Moon or Sun elves?” Astarion asks. 

“All elves! Like, all the Tel’Quessira!”

“Princess, I hate to break it to you but elven nations never unite. Especially Sun elves. They hate everyone else.”

“That’s stupid. If elves unite under one king, we can have all these kingdoms and realms!”

“We, princess? Last time I checked I was a vampire and you were a dhampir.”

“We are still elves!” Alethaine insists. “And mum, too, no one thinks she is half human.”

“The form of her ears doesn’t agree. Now stand up.”

It takes almost an hour to wash all the blood away from her silver hair. By the time they finish, Alethaine catches the scent of food coming from the kitchen.

Astarion gives her a towel and once Alethaine is ready to leave the bathroom he picks her up again.

“Daddy,” she whispers, “I didn’t taste the blood, I promise.”

“I believe you.” He kisses the tip of her nose. 

“And can I sleep with you two?” Alethaine adds.

“Of course! Someone as scary and dangerous as you needs to sleep safely, right?”

Hours later, Alethaine nestles between her parents and falls asleep. In her dream, she sees herself going through a dark field toward a dark mountain. Alethaine knows she is an adult and she must do something important, something vital, something…

She looks around and sees ten thousand dead warriors marching behind her.

**

304 years later

“O’si! O’si!” The red-haired elven girl grabs her mother’s hand. “Come!”

“What is it, Little Fire?” Alethaine yawns. She’s just got back home after trying to put some rational thought into her subordinates, a small tribe of aqua elves who still believe they can survive on their own. This is the side of her adult life she loves the least. Apparently, just being scary and dangerous isn’t enough for the king’s wife. And those water-loving morons weren’t even on the battlefield when Alethaine had resurrected the army of the dead, so she has little to no authority in their ocean blue eyes.

“I told you! I told Dad and he thought I was making things up! And you told me it was dead and you are a necromancer, you need to be good at this!”

Tiri (named after her grandmother, Alethaine didn’t even have a second thought about it) opens the door to her bedroom where it’s almost impossible to breathe because of the blazing fireplace. 

“Tiri, I told you the egg was dead. It turned to stone when the Star Elves still lived in Sildëyuir. I brought it only because it looked nice. And because your grandpa stole it for you – ”

Alethaine stares at the egg.

It’s not an egg anymore.

A small red wyvern crawls out and immediately stares at Tiri. The elven princess makes a squealing sound and kneels in front of the newborn beast.

“Mum, look! It’s not just a wyvern, it’s a wyvern that can carry a dragonrider!” Tiri grabs it. “Dad told me to read stories to the egg, and I did! I read about Dragonriders and the war-dragons… And… Oh, he needs a name!”

Alethaine sits on her daughter’s bed looking at Tiri and her little dragon. Well, within her lifetime Alethaine Ancunin has seen all types of strange things. She has fought demons, resurrected an army of the dead, advised a human king on how to rule his kingdom, hunted an infinite amount of monsters and mortals. 

But this is something different. 

Besides, it really was just a beautiful dead stone egg. Astarion probably stole it just because it caught his eye and then decided to shove it into Aletaine’s hands as a gift for Tiri. 

He would love to hear what happened next.

“Aurix!” Tiri says. “I will call you Aurix, it means Fire in Draconic!”

--

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

@nyx-knox

@jessaryss

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [3 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You manage to earn your day’s water, but also something else—Steve’s attention. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: a little more world-building, some insights into pack culture—and what’s expected of our reader 👀 i hope you all enjoy!

The rabbit’s ears twitch as it lifts its twitching nose to the air. You’re downwind, so it can’t scent you, not unless the wind shifts. It’s been hours of you sitting here, waiting as one by one the rest of the pack peels off, searches for better pickings elsewhere. You don’t, though, remaining still and quiet until you’re the only one left crouching low in the grass.

She lifts her head higher, ears swiveling before she lowers her head back down to the sparse patch of green in a sea of dry brown, her whiskers trembling. Slowly, quietly, you creep forward, pausing each time she does as you get into position. You nock an arrow, sighting it down your pointer finger—the way Steve showed you. 

The thought of him curdles your stomach, and you grimace. What does he care if I live or die? You think snidely, your lips tightening as you draw back the string with a firm, steady hand. You grit your teeth. He thinks you weak—you know the others think so. They speak it freely, and in truth you cannot blame them. Your survival feels like more of a mistake than anything, a cruel twist of luck that had denied you the end you were supposed to meet. You are as unsuited to this life as both the cobbler and the baker’s boy, and yet you breathe while they moulder. 

Don’t miss.

You release the arrow, and much to your surprise, your aim is true. The arrow pins the rabbit, the tip sinking into the dirt behind it. Its back legs twitch, and briefly your stomach turns as you watch the light go out in its frightened black eyes. Unexpected tears gather in your eyes as you wrench the arrow from the rabbit’s still warm flesh, and wipe it on the grass. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, placing a hand on its little head. “Thank you.” 

“To live out here is to take life.” You aren’t surprised by Steve’s voice, nor his presences. You suppose it had been foolish, really, to think you were alone. You wipe furiously at your tears before glaring at him over your shoulder with red-rimmed eyes. “It was an honorable kill.” 

You look down at your hands, and swallow thickly at the sight of dark red blood. 

“I have never killed anything before.” 

The orc sneers. “Then you have led a much more comfortable life than most anyone, man, orc, or beast.” He gestures to the rabbit. “Come. I do not think anyone will contest that you’ve earned your water tonight.” You watch as Steve strings up your kill, tying it to the back of your saddle.

—

 You approach the fire-pit with your rabbit, your jaw clenched nervously as you twist the rope in your hands. The orc female tending the pot is as broad-shouldered and gruff as the males, her blond hair cropped close on the sides, the top long enough to fall across her eyes. She crosses her arms as you approach, a surprised, if wry, smile on her face. 

“Well I’ll be.” She takes it from you, nodding in approval. “Clean kill. I’m impressed. I did not think a thing as dainty as you would be able to draw one of our bows.” You know she doesn’t mean it as an insult, merely an observation. Orcs, in your new estimation, seem to be overly fond of blunt communication, unbothered nuance or delicacy. You had never thought yourself particularly dainty, either; though as you look up at her you realize how small you are indeed. 

“Thank you.” She turns to place your rabbit upon the chopping block she has cleared, and you look away as she begins to clean it. “What… what is your name?” You ask awkwardly, and she glances up at you. 

“Carol.” She unsheathes a heavy looking short blade from her hip, slicing the rabbit from tail to nose. “You’ll make a fine hunter yet, little human,” she complements your work a second time, and you duck your head, your cheeks burning.

“I—I’ve never hunted before.” You admit. “Today was the first time.” 

“Have you not? Perhaps I shall take you next time. Mayhap we can catch bigger than a rabbit.” She winks. Carol does not shoo you away, not even when the other orcs begin lining up with their own, impressive kills. Bucky is last, of course, a small deer strung up on a pole he carries easily by himself over one large shoulder.

“We should make jerky from this one. Salt it and dry the skins between the saddles,” Carol says, slapping its flank. You hope in vain that his slate gray eyes will not fall on you—but you feel their weight even as you busy yourself cleaning foraged carrots, and you hear the sneer in his voice. 

“Making yourself useful?” 

“She killed a rabbit today.” You had not expected Carol’s defense, and when you glance up at her, she stands with her body broadside in front of you, like she’s trying to block you from view. “A good kill, for her first time.” 

Bucky scoffs. “Every one of us had a doe skinned and parted out before we were even weaned.” He sneers at you, the tusks poking out from his lower lip glinting menacingly. “But I suppose if you were an orc youngling, you might be blooded for it.” 

Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just want to earn my water.” You say, meeting his gaze as you jut out your chin. “That’s all.” Bucky says nothing. He glances down at your rabbit, and then back up at you. 

“It’s a good kill.” You swallow—that is probably the closes to a compliment that he’s apt to come. He turns on his heel and walks away, dirt crunching under his boots. 

When Carol serves out the stew that night, you get a bowl—instead of the scraps you’d been allowed to take from the pot in the nights before, and your stomach groans audibly at the privilege of being full. For the first time, you find a—small—place by the fire that no one seems to mind you taking. In your bowl, you find almost an entire leg of rabbit. You look up, expecting to find Carol’s knowing gaze, but instead, your eyes connect with cool blue across the fire. 

You look down quickly, pretending to ignore the weight of his eye as you bring a spoonful of stew to your lips.

“I beg your attention, brothers, sisters, people,” Steve’s voice carries across the fire-pit like a clap of thunder. The response is immediate, a curtain total silence dropping. Though there is no king among them, you think Steve might be the closest comparable thing. 

“The day after tomorrow we ride for Tarrath. You know what this means; we will not stop. Not for rest, not for water.” You swallow the uncomfortable feeling that this speech is partially for your benefit. His bright blue eyes rest on yours. “Do not fall behind.” 

Carol sits heavily on the log beside you, a bowl held in her large hands. It provides a welcome distraction, and you drop his gaze, turning to look at her. 

“Eat up, little human,” she replies, gesturing at you with a spoon. “You will need your strength.” You bite into the rabbit, a mixture of gravy and grease running down your chin as she nods at you.

“Tomorrow, we hunt.” 

to be continued

next

[sunnasweet]

Ophelia and The Orc

writer's block has been hitting me hard and i kind of forgot i created this tumblr but thank you everyone for the comments, reblogs and likes they honestly make me feel like im doing something right <3

Literotica summary: Ophelia gets eaten by an orc

Critiques are very much appreciated

2.8k , orc x female reader

Ophelia watches with big round eyes, her stomach twists and her cheeks heat at the offensive sight. Betsy was a good woman, a good wife and yet here she was on her hands and knees being…savaged by an orc.

She felt sick–betrayed. How could Betsy do this to her husband? To herself? She had children for god’s sake!

The sick sounds of her vulgar moans filled Ophelia’s ears as she watched her breasts sway from being pummeled into so viciously. Poor innocent Ophelia was aghast, she couldn’t possibly understand why anyone would want to be victimized in such a way. To get pleasure from it. It was…sinful!

Just before she could run off, she suddenly was grasped about the waist–a hand covering her mouth when she shrieked in muffled surprise and terror.

“Mmph!” she struggled against her attacker but it–no–he was far too strong. She looked up, the back of her head hitting the creature’s chest. An orc. A real one. Right in front of her face. Touching her.

It–he, smiled at her. Ophelia mistook it for baring his large sharp teeth at her. She stared at his pointed tusks in horror. She struggled further and he chuckled.

“Easy.” he rumbled, low and dark.

He was huge–bulky and big. Everything about him screamed inhuman. His green skin. Pierced pointed ears and black eyes. Ophelia felt faint.

Betsy let out another groan from behind the two of them and the orc’s ears twitched. He looked over at the sight and a small grunt escaped his lips, he looked back down at Ophelia. “Are you next?” he asks slightly smirking.

Ophelia’s eyes widened even further, practically bulging out of her sockets. She shook her head furiously.

“Hm..” he hummed, removed his hand from her mouth then stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “Shame.”

She gulps. Shame?

Ophelia looks the orc up and down once again. She really looked at him and…there was a certain attractiveness about this orc. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and strong brow–it was all an approximation of a human man. He was just so…masculine, everything about him screamed male, and that both captivated and repulsed Ophelia.

There was also the fact that he was well-groomed. Which shocked her. She had been told all her life that orcs were dirty senseless animals that only knew violence. But here she was, safe and sound (at least he hadn’t proved to be violent yet) next to an orc that smelled like pine. Her cheeks flushed pink.

The orc seemed to know exactly what Ophelia was thinking because his smile grew wider and he cupped her chin–Ophelia’s lip quivered.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, “Aren’t you curious, small one?” he baited–knowing full well that of course Ophelia was curious. Not about that–well, okay, not just about that. But it was a little hard not to think of that when she could still hear the dirty sounds echoing through the forest. They were getting louder, she could hear the orc that Betsy was with starting to make his own perverted noises.

“I-I…” she shook her head, “No…I…” her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She was so overwhelmed with what was going on in front of her and what was going on behind her.

Her lack of answer didn’t seem to deter the orc but fueled him further as he moved closer into her space. Backing her up against a tree. “No?” he mocked gently, “You lie, badly,” he murmured, leaning downwards and Ophelia thought for a moment he was going to kiss her but instead he lowered his head down and traced his nose against her jaw, inhaling deeply then letting out another rumble deep from his chest.

He was smelling her. Not only that but she jumped when she felt the wet warmth of his tongue follow after. Tasting her skin, she shuddered. Was he going to eat her?

The orc began to nibble slightly on her ear lobe and Ophelia squeaked in alarm, “Please don’t eat me!”

He pulled back quickly, looking at her face–seemingly searching her eyes to see if she was being serious. She was. He chuckled heartily, seemingly uncaring about the fact that there was a copulating couple just a few feet away from them.

“Eat you?” he asked, “Why would I do that?” his words seemed genuine but then again there was a certain hunger in his eye that made Ophelia nervous. Then there was the bit about licking her and the sniffing and…it was all making her rather flushed, her thighs rubbed together under her nightdress and she felt a strange wetness.

“Stop it.” she whimpers. “You’re an orc.”

“I am.”

“Orcs eat people.”

He raises a brow, “people?”

“Women. They go missing and then…” She looks at him expectantly, and then Ophelia hears another guttural moan from behind and her nose crinkles. The orc laughs smoothly. “Why are you even here?” she asks accusingly. Was he planning to do that to Betsy too? Were they going to take turns? She shudders at the idea.

He shrugs. “Keeping watch.”

“Keeping watch?” she says in disgust, “You’re voyeurs?” he looks amused but shakes his head.

“Some orcs are, but I’m keeping watch for soldiers.”

“Why would you do that?” What business would a soldier have here? They didn’t seek out orcs, they protected the village.

His face darkens slightly but he shrugs, “It is not safe. There is danger.” Ophelia scoffed. Of course, there was danger. He was the danger. She turns her face away from his but that dark look fades from his face back into an easy smile and he forces her to look at him with a gentle hand. “Why are you out here?” he asks in return. “Are you a voyeur?”

Ophelia’s face heats. “No!” she huffs, “I’m…I just…saw..I was making sure…I..” her words trip up and she looks at him guiltily. “It’s like you said, there’s danger in these woods. I wanted to make sure Betsy–” moans, and Ophelia scowls. “I just wanted to make sure she was alright.” she nudges her chin in Betsy’s direction.

“I’d say she’s more than alright.” the orc smirks.

She gasps, “You’re perverse!”

“Yes.” He smiles, “But you like that,” he rumbles, getting even closer to her space. “You smell delicious,” The orc says and Ophelia shudders. “You smell aroused.”

“W-well I’m not.” she holds her hand out, a gesture for him not to come any closer but he doesn’t listen. She shivers again when he palm touches his muscular chest. He grins down at her. “I’m engaged,” she says, and he gently grasps her wrist which makes her bite her lip at the feeling of his warmth seeping into her skin.

He kisses her fingertips, then, sucks down on one of her fingers. Ophelia watches with a dropped mouth as he removes her engagement ring, swallowing it.

“Not anymore,” he says raspily.

“You can’t just–!” she gapes at the orc. What would she tell Michael? How would she ever explain losing her engagement ring? “Why did you do that!” she asks furiously. Though the orc didn’t seem phased by her anger at all, in fact, he seemed amused by it – if the twitch of the corner of his mouth was anything to go by.

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling them chest to chest. Ophelia gasped in outrage but the orc just smiled at her. “I can do whatever I want.” he purrs, “this is my forest, small one.”

Ophelia’s cheeks heat and her heart races as the orc begins to massage her hips.

“S-stop it!” she demands, trying to pull away but stuck within his grasp. “You fiend!” she hisses.

“Come with me…” the orc offers, “and I will show you a pleasure you have never felt before.” he coaxed. The offer disgusted Ophelia. She would never! She was a good girl. A godly woman and soon-to-be wife! The only man she belonged to was Michael and she wouldn’t let an orc spoil her body before her wedding or ever for that matter.

But as he crowded against her and took her chin gently between his fingers… Ophelia felt a heat build in her belly.

“No…” she whispered, “No.”

“Shh…” the orc hushed, murmuring in her ear. “Relax.”

His face came closer and closer to hers–his lips, hovering just over her own.

“Stop,” she begged.

So gently, he grazed his lips over Ophelia’s and she whimpered. Her legs going weak. She stupidly chased after his mouth as he pulled back and that was when the Orc had known he’d won.

“Stupid orc…” she murmurs, “You’re a no good…no good..” The curse came out of her mouth almost inaudibly and the orc only chuckled in response.

“Garrek.”

“What?”

“That’s my name small one, Garrek. Can you repeat it for me.” he coaxed. Her eyes flitted up to his and she repeated his name quietly which made him smile. “Now, tell me your name.”

“Ophelia.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She scowled, “Do you say that to all the human women you seduce?”

“I don’t know.” he spoke with a smile, “You’re my first human.”

That shouldn’t have meant something to Ophelia but it did. It made her think she was special. Maybe this was something more than cruel seduction on his part.

The orc–Garrek, led Ophelia away from the tree–away from the coupling duo and brought her to an alcove, a small cave that Ophelia wordlessly entered. Garrek’s hand rested on her lower back and he guided her to some furs on the ground.

“Sit,” he murmured, and she did so obediently.

Once they were on the ground, Garrek pulled Ophelia into his lap and he smiled down at her with his sharp menacing teeth.

His large hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs rubbing her blushing flesh. Ophelia squirmed slightly which only seemed to make Garrek’s smile broaden. Sitting like this, with him caressing her, Ophelia was slowly relaxing against her better judgment.

“Why…why me?” she asks quietly, “Am I really the first human woman you’ve ever tried to…seduce?”

“Yes.” he replies, then shrugs, “Why not you? You’re here…and you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. She sighs and he leans even closer. “Will you kiss me?”

“I…” she whispers, eyes darting to his lips. They looked…soft. And green. She had to remind herself. She sniffed, looking away.

He took her chin gently and turned her face, Ophelia’s breathing stopped and she was so close to kissing him. If she so much as breathed, their lips would graze against each other. Her traitorous eyes fluttered closed on instinct.

“Just do it…” she whispered. Waiting. Wanting.

Garrek’s lips touched hers with no further warning and she was damned.

He felt warm to the touch, his lips slotting perfectly with hers. At first just a gentle peck and then a longer drawn-out moment. His tongue flicked out against her bottom lip and she gasped. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she kissed him back.

His hands trailed down her back to squeeze her hips. Slowly, he laid her down on her back. His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, sucking gently on the skin.

“Mm..”

Ophelia had never been kissed like this before, not by anyone–certainly not by her fiance. She couldn’t believe she was letting someone who wasn’t Michael kiss her. How would she ever be forgiven for this…not that she planned to tell Michael. Gods no. Never. She would die before actually confessing that she was letting an orc touch her!

Garrek’s lips moved from her jaw to her throat, licking down the column of her neck.

“Don’t eat me,” she warned, breathless and he laughed. “Ah–!” He ripped her shift open by the neckline, revealing her breasts. “What are you doing–?” she gasped once more, feeling his hot mouth on her hardened nipple.

His hand squeezed her other breast, covering the entire thing with his palm. “Don’t worry. I won’t eat you…” he rumbled, lifting his head from her breast, “at least not in the way you’re thinking.”

What?

Before she could think too much about that, the orc ripped the rest of her shift off with one long tear. Ophelia yelped in surprise, clutching at the fabric but her hands were quickly pinned above her head by Garrek. He smiled down at her and she gulped.

“Stay here,” he murmured, then let her hands go to graze the sides of her body which made her shiver. He kissed down her throat, down the valley of her breasts, and down her stomach until he was face to face with the junction of her spread-open thighs. He licked his lips and Ophelia’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no!” Ophelia cried, “Don’t put your mouth there, i-it’s dirty!” the orc didn’t listen, if anything he seemed more enthused by the way he grasped the back of her thighs and held her open, spreading Ophelia wider. Ophelia groaned in embarrassment and closed her eyes as she bit into the palm of her hand.

“You seem well bathed to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispers.

“Well…” he rumbles, then licks a stripe up her slit–the two of them groan, both in pleasure. Ophelia stares at the orc with her eyes now peeled open, breath coming in pants as he repeats the action. Letting loose another rumble of pleasure, Ophelia whimpers in both confusion and pleasure.

Garrek buries his face between her legs and Ophelia yelps, “Oh! W-wait!” she cries. He doesn’t. Her head falls back against the furs and she moans, her legs stiffening. “Ohhh…” her eyes squeeze back shut and her hips reflexively roll against his mouth.

“Good.” he purrs.

“Garrek!” she squeals when he sucks on a particular spot that has her keening.

Ophelia’s fists clench, and she clutches the furs, ripping at them while she lurches to a sitting position as Garrek continues to use his mouth on her…pussy. Yes, she could recall that word being used by Michael once or twice. When he was trying to seduce Ophelia into pre-marital actions. She had refused then…but now…

Now she was in a cave, naked, splayed out on the ground underneath an orc.

Garrek groaned between Ophelia’s thighs, his wide tongue touching every part of her intimate area. She whimpered and bucked.

Ophelia was no better than Betsy. She was engaged and yet here she was laying on the ground moaning like a wanton whore being spoiled by an orc. But she liked it. She liked the pleasure he was giving her and she wasn’t completely sure it was just the pleasure. This orc–Garrek, had been charming.

The tip of Garrek’s thick finger began to inch its way into Ophelia’s cunt and her eyes went wide.

“Oh!” she whined, her hips shifting.

He growled from between her thighs, “You’re going to be taking a lot more than this later…”

Ophelia’s pussy pulsed around the intruding digit, opening and tolerating more to slide in before clenching around it and moaning.

Everything was becoming too much and she could feel a strange tightness building in her abdomen. Something felt…off–not wrong, no, this was too good to be wrong but something was coming and she felt as if she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to.

“I feel…” she gasped, Garrek’s finger curled inside her. “I-I feel–!” Before she could finish her sentence, her mouth dropped open as a burst of pleasure shot through her. Intense and all at once, wave after wave of ecstasy as she fluttered around the orc’s thick finger. “Garrek!” she cried once more, humping his face and hand.

Gods.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching, Ophelia let out a long whine as she sobbed out her orgasm.

She collapsed onto the furs the moment the pleasure dissipated and her eyes went heavy as Garrek lapped at her folds slowly, the occasional lick making her twitch and shiver.

“Mm..” she hummed, her hand pushing at his shoulder to get his mouth away from her sensitive cunt. “Enough.” she rasped.

Garrek chuckled between her legs, eying her, “For now.” he warned. Pulling away, he laid down beside her with a satisfied sigh. Licking his lips he traced his thumb over her cheek. “There’s much more I want to show you,” he says.

She shivered, that familiar warmth pooling once again in her belly.

“You can’t have my virginity,” she said in tired sternness. “That’s…that’s for my husband.”

“Hm.”

“I’m engaged.” she reminded him.

“Not anymore,” he said back. “I swallowed your ring, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not engaged.”

He cracks a smile, “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you go on back home now that I’ve had a taste of you?”

What? Of course she did!

Garrek wrapped an arm around Ophelia and pulled her close. He laid a possessive hand on her hip and gave it a gentle pat. “I intend to keep you for myself…” he rumbled, “You’re all mine now small one, all mine.”

If you'd like to support me! Patreon / Subscribestar / Ko-f

[downbadfororcs]

Faltered Action

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IM ALIVE thank you all so much for being so patient and so supportive 😭 I’m so so sorry it’s been so long. Thank you all for your comments and reblogs and likes it’s been so motivating and so nice to see i really hope this next next part lives up. Love y’all!!

Xoxo

Ps. Tw: nightmares, swearing, mentions of violence I think

<< Masterlist

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As the orc turned to leave, something caught his eye. Kneeling down, Xürgarh picked up a small card with shining letters.

“East Docking Trading, Post, and Services”

He flipped the card over, never seeing anything like it, on the back was scribbled with ink:

“Ask for James”

The writing was in Old English, must be a human based port. Not uncommon but large groups of humans aren’t often found anymore, not since the great wars. Xürgarh turned over the card again before placing it in his pocket and swiftly leaving, not wanting to draw more attention than he already might’ve.

Xürgarh returned home, shuffling off his cloak and outside garb. He placed the card on the coffee table, occasionally looking it over once more before placing it down. He stared into the hearth, thinking, until his eyes grew heavy, falling asleep on the couch.

——————————————————————————

Pain. Pain and agony is all you feel, pounding and throbbing across your body as the scene you’re trapped in progresses. Familiar faces and events play over and over. A burning ship sticks out, the heat is unbearable, making everything feel as if it’s ablaze. The act itself is almost beautiful, as all of the souls it’s taken once before escape. Somethings wrong though. They aren’t sent above the clouds as they should be. They swirl and combine like a thundering storm, a violent one at that, so fast that the faces you one recognize are contorted beyond recognition. They begin to swarm around you, all the voices and screams, the searing hot pain of it all is overwhelming.

It suddenly stops. You feel cold. It’s so sudden it’s startling, compelling you to finally open your eyes.

Light floods the room, after a few blinks Marvin’s figure is more recognizable, as well as his worried gaze.

“Thank god you’re awake. That was a nasty nightmare that one, I was beginning to worry you wouldnt wake up”

As he walks off he carries a cloth with him, placing it back in a bucket and wringing it out before placing it back on your forehead

“You’re sweating through the sheets, I’ll have to change them while you’re in the bath. How do you feel?”

Marvin assists as you fight to sit up, hissing with a flinch as your side radiates in agony

“Like shit”

He smiles at your answer

“Better than being dead no doubt, if you hadn’t been found I don’t wanna know what would’ve happened”

“But who found me?”

“You don’t remember, i was afraid you had a concussion, let me see your eyes-“

“No no no get away from me it hurts-“

“It’ll only be a second”

“I’ll bite you. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again”

“I know, I have the scar on my hand to prove it”

Marvin chuckles and sits down on the edge of the bed

“Alright alright I’ll leave you for now, maybe you’ll remember later. How does a bath sound”

“Gods yes. Do you have any more of that bath stuff?”

“You’re lucky I have any left, the ladies around town hound me for it whenever their monthly happens, apparently it’s the best pain solution around. Come on”

He gently lifts all the covers he trapped you under, removing the cloth from your head before picking you up. Marvin apologizes as he hears a multitude of pain sounds the whole way to the bathroom, after a few moments of water running you’re left in the massive tub.

The water has a purple tinge, with lavender and light floral scents filling your senses. Any agony and discomfort is washed away the longer it soaks in your skin. Leaning against the back of the tub, last nights events play over and over in your mind. Slowly, a face of an attacker and rescuer becomes more clear. Only one is missing a name, the other carries a title best forgotten.

After a while the water goes cold and you make your way out of the tub, draining the water before eventually getting dressed and dragging yourself downstairs to chat with Marvin before he opens up the pub for the day

He smiles as you still sit in the same spot, the only seat which the top is built to be human size.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads, still tired though”

“I’d expect so, I’ll give you a little sleeping draught if you want so you won’t be woken up by all the noise-“

“I think I remember who saved me, but I don’t have his name”

“Xürgarh. He’s an orc”

“Figured with a pretty green face like that and being built like a tank, if he comes in tonight can you send him upstairs?”

Marvin stops, setting down the glasses he was cleaning

“Are you sure? You’re still very hurt even if you can’t feel it, I don’t want you to wear yourself out with too much excitement”

“A conversation is not too much excitement”

“No but I know he’s your type and I want to still have my bed intact when I finally go to sleep tonight, that thing was custom made you know”

You felt your face grow hot as you grab some nuts from the bowl Infront of you and throw them at him. Marvin laughs and throws up his hands in defence

“Have mercy! I’m being attacked by a human”

“Fuck off marvin, you haven’t even talked to that centaur you’ve been fawning over since we moved here”

“Hey you know disputes between our kinds just ended, I don’t know how he feels”

“Probably the same and it’s some will-they-won’t-they troupe”

“Oh hush, I’ll let Xürgarh know if he comes in today but I doubt it, usually he has to be dragged”

“Well where does he work?”

“He’s a blacksmith, his workshop is just a block or two from here i think. I’ve only been in once when that drunk elf tried to fight that hoard of halflings with my sword and broke it. You can hardly tell where it snapped unless you’re really looking for it”

“Hmm, you think he can fix the music box from auntie?”

“Oh I’d say so, I can’t believe you still have that since it was-“

Marvin stops as he sees you wince at the memory, placing his hand on yours for comfort. When you finally look up he offers a smile “it’s about time for me to open, you should probably wait upstairs. I’ll come check on you later and I’ll let you know if Xürgarh comes by, probably lead him up and everything”

“Thank you Marvin, I really appreciate it” you return the smile before slipping off the stool gently and making your way back upstairs.

[coyoxxtl]

honestly the whole “shuro owns slaves” thing may be the only valid criticism of him so far, but even that’s p damn misleading. like, Toshiro doesn’t actually own anyone, they’re owned by his father/family, and handled by Maizuru. This doesn’t Excuse him entirely mind you, but I think the details matter here if you’re putting his personal feelings/actions into consideration.

Tade and Izutsumi seem to be the only one’s that others recognize as his “slaves”, because they’re considered “inhuman”, but it’s not only them, Hien and Benichidori are as well. Hien was born into a family that already served the Nakamoto’s, and Benichidori was bought.

But we never see Toshiro order them around or lord his power over any of them. He didn’t demand them to come with him on his quest, he literally begged them for it and showed them gratitude. (worth mentioning this was the first thing he EVER asked them for too, AND he was on his hands and knees. idk a lord’s heir kneeling to his “slaves” sounds unheard of imo) Also, we know he’s concerned for Tade, because she is a little Too Happy to be owned by his father, but he keeps quiet about it. That’s his whole thing, being a passive pushover who doesn’t speak up even when he needs to. If he can’t say anything to an annoying white guy he sure as hell can’t speak up against his father/country owning slaves. But considering that this flaw of his has recently been challenged, I believe he’s now more likely to speak up against this.

But who can say, I personally don’t see Toshiro as a malicious guy for this alone. He isn’t completely blameless, but he’s by no means an active perpetrator, especially since he has shown Multiple Times he doesn’t ascribe to his family’s way of doing things. He and his father dislike each other for this, Toshiro isn’t even guaranteed to be the family heir, despite being the eldest. (I think his brothers were literally born to avoid that tbh) At this point his flaws aren’t any more or less problematic than any other character in the series. (Kabru doesn’t see Kobolds or Orcs as people, same with Marcille, Laios and Falin think mountain people are savages, The Canaries are prison slaves etc) Sorry to say most of our beloved characters would barely bat an eye at something like that.

Also I think it’s funny that people hated Toshiro because he was mean to Laios and only recently are y’all bitching about the slave thing. Just say you hate the guy for hurting white boy feelings and go.

[wanderingswampbeast]

Long Post: Why I Don’t Like The Drow

I’ve been ranting about this to a friend on discord (a lot of points I make will come from him) but I’ve finally figured out what my issue with the drow is outside of inherently evil groups being dumb.

The drow are boring. Drow lore is less of a dive into a unique culture and more of a list of fucked up things they do. Like, I cannot name a single interesting aspect of typical drow society that does not directly involve murder, sexism, or slavery, or Lolth. And even then, most of those things are written about in an incredibly bland fashion with them.

The Drow don’t really have much depth to them, and are just kind of evil for evil’s sake (or “because Lolth said so”). They do slavery, but the only real purpose of doing slavery for them is “because Lolth said so”. It isn’t for cheap labor, it’s to be more evil. They betray each other purely because that’s what evil people do. They’re misandrist, not for any real societal reason, but because Lolth hates men. There’s none of what would make slavery an interesting topic or story element, no justification for why they should be allowed to commit one of the worst injustices possible, no real economic reason for it. They just do it because Lolth says they should, and from a writing perspective it hammers home the fact that they’re evil. They aren’t evil because they enslave and murder, they enslave and murder because they’re evil, if that makes any sense.

Them being written as comically evil as they are also hurts them from a worldbuilding perspective. They’re so reliant on slaves for menial labor that the lower class of their society struggle to get jobs. Drow culture so obsessed with betrayal and dumbass house wars that even when actively under attack from the outside they sabotage each other. They’re so decadent that their buildings are held up with magic and semi regularly collapse when a spell fails. To put it bluntly, drow society feels like one that should have collapsed in a few centuries, which, funnily enough, is way longer than D&D elves live.

Their culture being so monolithic also makes writing anything about them difficult. Every drow antagonist is going to have near identical motivations, methods, and ideologies as every other drow antagonist. Every drow protagonist is going to ultimately feel very similar to Drizzt, because leaving their fucked up society to become a do-gooder is such a common backstory element that they added a whole extra god just for doing that. In fact, you can divide 90% of drow characters from any official materials into these categories:

Manservant

Ambitious male, usually a wizard (5 bucks says he has long hair and a widow’s peak)

Dommy Mommy Warcrime Woman

Drizzt Do’Urden or one of his many duplicates

Self-loathing and/or resentful Drider

And finally, their existence almost purely to be humanoid enemies you can fight at nearly any levels is just kind of lazy. This is a problem that I have with the “evil races” of a lot of fantasy but having a group that’s evil by birth just feels like an excuse to not have to write actual motivations for your antagonists. It’s the difference between “go attack this camp of soldiers because they’re part of the SkullMurder army and their general wants to use our land to build a dread fortress” vs “go attack this camp of soldiers specifically because they’re drow/goblins/orcs/the dreaded peepee-poopoo folk”. Using stuff like this just feels like an excuse to not have to write an actual antagonist since it comes pre-written in the group’s lore. This has the side effect of whenever such a group is the antagonist of the plot, the players or audience know near exactly what to expect. The orc is here to conquer, the goblin is here to steal, and the drow is here to enslave or do some dark ritual.

I’ve legitimately heard people say “well if XYZ can’t be inherently evil anymore, who will we use as bad guys?” It’s very simple: whoever the fuck we want. Write an evil queen, or a scheming wizard, or an underground slave trade network. For God’s sake, anyone can be evil, you don’t need to tie that to a specific ethnic group and write it as “they’re just like that”. Write an actual character for your antagonist.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Working at a fast food place in a blizzard and all I want is some big yandere monster who has a tracker on my phone to notice and get worried for me and come immjdetaly to steal me from my work and tie me up saying he'll make sure I never have to work again cause he'll handle me

Sfw or nsfw

I liked this idea a lot, idk where the idea for a blizzard came from, but I like how you think ^_^'

Word Count: 2.5k

Monster (Rahl) x gn reader

W: sfw monster fluff, kidnapping, tying up

Rahl examined the tracking app he’d installed on his phone and let out a low growl. The little icon, a picture of you he’d stolen from your Instagram account placed you at the Popeye’s where you worked. Tracking you had become sort of an obsession of his, ever since he showed up there to order a family meal of fried chicken one afternoon.

You’d smiled at him when you asked for his order. That was the first thing that got his two hearts thumping. No one ever smiled at him. At eight feet tall and a mouth full of large, sharp teeth most people ran from him. He’d had the police called on him more times than he could count just for existing in public. 

People were used to the pretty Fairyfolk, the fairies, the sirens, even the orcs were better received than him. He was large and thick, covered in white feathers, tipped in dark blue, and with massive sharp claws that generally put people off. The only thing remotely human about him was his deep blue face, that was partly hidden by a stray clump of feathers he could never get to sit right. He looked like a horror from a nightmare and maybe he was. 

“Have a wonderful day and stay warm,” you’d chirped at him with a wink when you handed him his bag of food. The words falling from your plush lips were like heaven. Your small smile was like the sun rising. He wanted more. He needed more. His life was so lonely, but you were sweet and beautiful. You could be the companion he desperately craved. 

That’s why he’d started following you. In that one small interaction you’d given him so much warmth and he was hooked. He’d placed a tracker on your car and watched you go about your daily business with rapt attention. He loved learning even the most mundane things about you. He knew your favorite coffee order, your favorite color, as well as a million other little details he’d gleaned from stalking you. He hated that you worked with the public. Your smile should be his alone. It would be his alone.

Glancing outside he found snow falling in a white sheet and growled. There was a blizzard coming and your boss had insisted that the day crew show up to work, despite there being no customers. No one was buying chicken in the middle of a blizzard. 

The cold didn’t bother Rahl with his thick, downy undercoat, so it was no chore to make his way through the blinding white, using his phone’s GPS to guide him to you. When he reached the store, he suddenly felt nervous. He hadn’t come up with a plan. He stood outside of the small building for a moment collecting himself and trying to decide what to do. 

Inside it was warm and dry. Since the manager hadn’t bothered to come in himself, of course, you and your coworkers were making it as comfortable as possible. You’d cranked up the heat and someone put the “CLOSED” sign up, just in case. You were all lounging in the booths playing with your phones, waiting for the shift to end, though none of you were sure how you were going to get home in the mess building outside. 

“Maybe we should just go,” your coworker Amber said, “I mean, no one is going to notice if we aren’t here. If we stay too much longer we’re going to be trapped here.” 

The rest of the crew nodded in agreement. $8.00 per hour wasn’t going to pay for a tow truck to get your cars back home and if you all left at once, your manager couldn’t fire all of you. He’d have no staff left. It was either leave while it was still possible or be trapped, probably overnight. 

Outside, Rahl, hidden in white snow, was considering his strategy. He just needed an opportunity to get you alone. While he thought, he carefully tied the thick paracord he’d brought along with him into slipknots. 

“You guys go, I’ll close up,” you said. As the most senior staff member and the only one with keys, you took it on your shoulders to carry burdens like this, even though you didn’t get paid any more for it. 

Your coworkers gave you relieved smiles and hurried to grab their things and hustle home. Alone in the restaurant, you sighed while you shut off the fryer and the ovens, hoping you’d make it out before it became impossible to drive. The sound of the door opening and closing startled you, but you assumed it was one of your coworkers who’d forgotten something, so you went back to shutting the lights off without thinking. 

Only, as your ears strained to hear the sound of the door opening and closing again as they left, you heard something different. Dull, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty building. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. 

A chill passed through you, but you assured yourself it was just the heavy steps of one of the guys stomping snow off of their non-slip shoes. 

“Hey, Mick…that you? I’m about to lock the doors!” 

Silence. You creeped past the food window into the dark dining room. The sun was completely blocked out by the snow, so it was pitch black. 

“Mick?” you asked the darkness, your voice just a whimper. 

You tried to shake the cold terror that was creeping up your spine away. Mick must have left and you just didn’t hear the door close. You squinted your eyes, trying to make out anything in the darkness, but you only saw shadowy shapes. 

“You’re just freaking out over nothing,” you whispered to yourself. 

You scrambled to lock the front door and then turned to head to the back and get your things, so you could go out of the back. 

A moment later you let out a terrified screech as thick, clawed hands clamped down on your arms like a vice. 

“Help! HELP!” you screamed, hoping one of your coworkers was nearby enough to hear you. 

Whatever had you pulled you into its warm feathery chest and wasn’t letting go, no matter how you thrashed and howled for mercy. 

“Sh. Sh. Sh. Don’t worry little mate,” a scratchy voice reminding you of dry stalks of wheat rubbing together told you, “I won’t hurt you.” 

“LEMME GO!” you yelled even louder. 

“Afraid I can't do that, little one,” he almost hissed, “I’ve chosen you.” 

“Ch-chosen…me…?” you murmured, confused, your heart beating so fast you could hardly catch your breath to speak, “ch-chosen me for what?” 

“You’re my lovely little mate,” he purred. 

You’d heard that word before from other Fairyfolk you knew, but it never had much meaning to you…until now. 

“I’m…I’m…not…” you gasped for air, hyperventilating from fear, “I’m n-not your m-mate!”

Suddenly you were being held aloft, tucked in the crook of the creature's arm, while the other wrapped tight bands around your wrists and pulled them taught. Then he did your ankles next, not tight enough to hurt you, but you were caught. If you’d been calm enough to notice, you’d have realized his feathers were very soft and he smelled like vanilla. 

Happy that you were secured and weren’t going to swat at him, he pet you in the darkness, long claws just barely scraping through your hair. 

“Calm down, little one, before you hurt yourself,” he pouted, “just breathe…In…out…in…out” 

With nowhere else to go, pinned firmly in his grasp, you could only follow directions, forcing your breathing to match his words. 

“That’s it,” he cooed with a smile hovering on his voice, “It’s all going to be okay now. I’ll take care of you…” 

“T-take c-care of me? What’s that s-supposed to mean?” you mumbled, your breath slowly picking up. Your mind drummed up a hundred horrible scenarios. 

He chuckled.

“I’m going to keep you safe and warm in my den,” he said as he made his way to the exit with large, heavy steps. 

Once you were outside, you could see slightly better and you took in his face. 

“I remember you…” you said, suddenly recognizing him, “you came into the store before…” 

“I’m happy you remembered me,” he preened. 

Around you snow fell in a thick white sheet, but the monster was like a living furnace. You were quite warm and cozy in his arms. 

“Well you’re pretty memorable…What’s your name?” you asked, which made him even happier. 

“Rahl,” he said cheerfully, navigating confidently through the rising wind. 

As the blizzard started in earnest, you had to tuck your face into his chest to keep your nose from freezing. He cupped your head and body with his arm, protecting you from the driving snow. You had no idea where he was taking you, the snow falling too thick to make out any landmarks so you just squeezed your eyes shut and tried to force yourself to wake up from this dream. 

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. You kept repeating the words to yourself, wishing they were true, but no matter how many times you said it, you could feel his downy feathers against your skin and hear his…two hearts(?)...In his chest. Finally after what felt like the longest walk of your life, the wind stopped blowing on you and everything was quiet. 

“Wake up little mate,” he said in a sing-song voice, “we’re home!” 

You lifted your eyes to look around the monster's den, only it wasn’t at all what you expected. No piles of bones on the floor or bits of skin curing on stretchers. It was actually…very nice. Everything was quite a bit bigger than what you were used to, but he had all the things a normal human would have…a television, a comfortable looking couch…even pictures hanging on the walls…of you. 

“Have you been following me?” you squeaked rhetorically. It was obvious he had. The pictures of you were all candid shots taken from far away and images printed from your social media accounts.

Rahl answered anyway while he loosened the paracord bindings from your hands and ankles, tossing them on the coffee table. . 

“I had to be sure you were safe,” he said, nestling you on the couch and wrapping you with a soft blanket like a little burrito, “sit here. I’ll start dinner.” 

You blinked at his broad back as he made his way to the kitchen. His raspy voice floated back to you as he sang some popular song to himself while he cooked. Soon the room filled with the smell of cumin and cayenne pepper. It occurred to you that you could run, but there was a blizzard outside and you were only dressed in the t-shirt and pants that made up your work uniform. If you left the comfort of his home and walked blindly into the storm, it was likely you’d get lost and die of hypothermia before anyone would find you. 

Rahl emerged with two big bowls of chili filled to the brim, carefully handing you one of them and a spoon. You looked down to see he’d made it just as you liked it, with a large hunk of cornbread off to the side and a dollop of sour cream on top. 

“How did you know…” you asked, your voice dying in your throat. Rahl must have been stalking you closely to have picked up on such a random preference. 

He stirred his chili and pulled a cheesy spoonful to his mouth, savoring it before he spoke. 

“I know everything about you (Y/N),” he said, his bright blue eyes glinting in the soft light of his home, “I wanted everything to be perfect for you when you finally came home.” 

You took a few more spoonfuls of the delicious chili before you responded. 

“It’s really good,” you said, looking into your bowl…the chili was very convincing. The flavors were perfect with just enough spicy heat to warm you up without burning your tongue.  

Shaking that away you leveled Rahl with your best no-nonsense glare. 

“You can’t just kidnap me! It’s not right,” you informed him firmly, “I have a life!” 

Rahl chortled and his long, blood red tongue swept out to lick chili off of the corner of his mouth, the gesture suddenly shooting tingles down your spine. 

“And I can provide a better life,” he countered, “you never have to work at a fast food restaurant again, for one. And taking care of you makes me happy. I want to give you everything…and all I ask is your companionship.” 

He set his bowl down and carefully extracted yours from your hands, placing it on the coffee table. Curling his big body over yours, he cupped your cheek in his hand. He marveled at how much smaller you were than him. A tiny little creature that needed his protection. 

“You are a rare and beautiful soul, floating in a murky sea of mediocrity. I want to take you away from all that…create a world for you where you can thrive. I don’t expect you to fall in love me with just one bowl of chili, but if you just give me a chance, I can show you real happiness. The two of us, together.” 

His words, in his husky voice, were so tempting. You’d been single for a long time, struggling to make ends meet. You slept in a walk-in closet you rented in a house meant for 3 that housed 8. Your car barely ran, you’d bought it from some guy on the internet who was just going to junk it if you hadn’t offered him a couple hundred dollars to take it off of his hands. You’d slept in it for two months after that before you could afford the walk-in closet. There were days where you didn’t eat at all or if you did it was stolen from the Popeye’s where you worked. 

“But we hardly know each other,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself he was lying, trying to trick you into a false sense of security. 

His large hand drifted down your cheek, then gingerly along the delicate curve of your neck to your arm, finally resting on the hand folded on your lap, leaving the skin tingling in his wake. He pulled your small fingers to his lips, giving them a soft kiss. Your cheeks burned and you took in a sharp breath. 

“Then let’s get to know each other,” he purred, pressing your palm to his cheek.

It was smooth, but firm and you were finally calm enough to scent the sweet fragrance of vanilla wafting up from his skin.

“Let's not be strangers anymore.” 

You were suddenly aware of how close he was, a loose feather brushing your forehead. Your heartbeat kicked up, leaving you breathless. This close you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His lips were full with a delicate curve forming his cupid’s bow and his eyes gleamed with an unnatural blue light, framed by fluffy white lashes. And he was just so BIG. He towered over you, his feathered shoulders taking up your whole field of view. How you hadn’t noticed him stalking you, you had no idea. 

Your eyes instinctively dropped to his lips, so close you could feel the heat emanating from them. Bathed in his sweet, vanilla scent you found yourself tipping forward until your mouth just barely grazed his. You could hear each thud of your pounding heart in your ears. The two of you shared a breath for a moment, before his smooth lips pressed against yours in earnest. 

A lot can be learned from a kiss. Rahl’s mouth moved over yours gently. He let you explore at your own pace, holding himself back from grabbing you and pressing you to him. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him. He never wanted you to feel frightened. It was incredibly difficult with your soft skin so close to his. He had to pull away before he was lost to his own passion, preening a bit when your head followed his for just a moment. You quickly caught yourself, sinking back into the couch, your cheeks on fire. 

“Here, let’s eat before it gets cold,” he reminded you of the chili you’d completely forgotten about, setting the bowl in your slightly shaking hands, “do you want to watch a movie? I downloaded all of your favorites.” 

You nodded weakly, willing your heartbeat to slow, as Rahl brought up a list of movies for you to pick from. You chose a horror movie you’d seen a thousand times and to Rahl’s delight, you snuggled up next to him, finishing your bowl. Suddenly you felt like a couple, like you’d known each other your whole lives. As far as Rahl was concerned this was a dream come true and he quickly abandoned the rest of his dinner to throw an arm around you, holding you close until you drifted off to sleep. 

[vintagerpg]

This is the second edition of The Mines of Keridav (1983) from Gamelords, a reissue of the 1979 Phoenix Games edition. It is statted for Thieves Guild but it is essentially generic, suitable for any D&D-derived system with a minimum of conversion. The basic plot is a cliché — rescue the princess from the evil wizard — but there aren’t actually a ton of scenarios where damsels are in distress, so it feels sort of novel in a weird way. The mines themselves are logically arranged and therefore extremely deadly for a frontal assault — players who want to succeed are going to need to be clever. The mage, Keridav is tough (though one with an interesting weakness — in close quarters, he is liable to get flustered and stutter, disrupting his spellcasting) and supported by a band of orcs and a menagerie of critters. Of potential help for the players, Keridav has imprisoned a population of dwarves and forced them to work the mines. His hope that the princess will naturally fall in love with him also presents unusual opportunities a smarter villain might otherwise account for.

The great thing is that the mines is only a small part of the module (just five of the 28 pages). The rest is dedicated to describing the Tiraval Valley, a number of overland hexes that include a well-realized village, a ruined castle (which would be expanded on in the companion module) and a number of encounter areas. This sort of material was more common by 1983, but when the first edition came out in ‘79, there wasn’t a ton of wilderness stuff out there and honestly, of the stuff I’ve read, this is some of the most polished and cohesive. I’d have no problem lifting this for one of my games.

Like most Gamelords books, the art is pretty solid. VM Wyman is on the cover — I like their cartoony fantasy and that lettering is great (they did a lot of work for the Thieves Guild line and it is definitely part of the charm). Bob Charrette (Bushido, Shadowrun) also has some art inside, an artifact of the book originally being published by Phoenix Games, where he started out.