#stealthy the dwarf

[gender-luster]

how do i explain to people that because of a niche youtube recap series of a 2010s abc fantasy show, i now refer to any character introduced to the past of a pre-established narrative that contains no other reference to said character, as a "stealthy the dwarf"

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Everyone waited in silence while the three Dwarfs and two Badgers trotted stealthily across to the trees on the northwest side of the Lawn.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" - C. S. Lewis

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Now there's a dwarf named Stealthy?

[wtfforged]

my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts

thoughts in depth under read more... :)!

this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.

LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)

the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."

ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)

a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!

NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)

cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!

USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.

SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))

race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.

CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)

this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.

ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)

robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!

[winwin17]

Ok, this is going to be a really silly headcanon, but here it is.

Fellowship of the Ring members ranked according to who would have the most dramatic sneeze (in order from most to least dramatic):

#1. Pippin. You probably expected this. Hobbits might be very mindful of manners and politeness, but Pippin has Rich Hobbit Privilege and he does not care. Consequently, his sneezes are loud and dramatic (partly on purpose if he's being honest), followed by a loud, "Well, bless me!!" (especially if no one else said it)

#2. Gandalf. Let's face it, unless there's the possibility of stirring up imminent danger by being noisy, Gandalf secretly relishes in a dramatic production of a sneeze. He's just been around for so long that he doesn't care anymore - although it might be at least half played up for amusement, and he likes to see folks worry he might actually blow their house down.

#3. & #4. I'm going to say it's a tie between Gimli and Boromir. While Gimli is a mannerly Dwarf, he does have a tendency to be assertive and/or boisterous, and his sneeze would be right in line with that. Boromir, however, probably has an absolute dad sneeze - which might be a little played up if he thinks no one's listening or if he's trying to amuse someone, but mostly he just naturally has one of those sneezes that almost rattles the windows and can scare you if you weren't expecting it. Also the worst for surprise sneezes out of the blue.

#5. Sam. Bless his dear heart, he tries his best to be polite and mannerly, but he just has a hearty Hobbit sneeze. (He may also follow it up by saying "bless me," but more as an apology than a desire to make a scene than the way Pippin does it.)

#6. Legolas. This Elf kinda just doesn't even care. He's a wood elf - he doesn't have to worry about appearing all ethereal. And besides, since when does he follow hard to convention and expectations or worry a lot about what other people think? Of course he has a sense of decency, but catch him in the right moment and you might be surprised to find he can produce a sneeze that shakes the new baby leaves on trees.

#7. Aragorn. His ranger experience has taught him how to be very stealthy and even suppress surprise sneezes. But he's also a bit of a rough and rugged guy, and he's been on his own a lot, so if he feels the freedom to do so, he may just let it all it out in a powerful sneeze fit for a king. If he's comfortable enough with whoever may be around at the moment, he might even just give silly little smile and not even apologize.

#8. Merry. Being a bit more of a dignified Hobbit, he probably tries to suppress his sneezes. And for some reason, he's much better at it than some others. May still follow it with a "bless me," though.

#9. Frodo. In spite of being raised by his uncle Bilbo, who probably often sneezed as loudly and unapologetically as possible in his home at Bag End, Frodo has mastered the art of the most delicate, almost imperceptible sneeze. Probably at some point (at least once) this has resulted in people looking at him quizzically and going, "What even was that?"

Ok, there you have it!! My silly sneeze headcanon! (I'd love to see comments and/or reblogs to hear whether people agree or disagree on any of these!)

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 1 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 1: The Birthday Girl.

The dirt stuck under your nails as you clawed at the floor like a rabid dog. The wildness in your eyes had your actions to match. When you started scratching wood, you grabbed your shovel and bashed the rest of the pine box in.

You paused when you saw the locket slung around the skeleton. The acrid smell of the rotten flesh barely registered with you. Tentatively, you unhooked the locket - a heart shaped one, carved from within for the purpose of sticking photos. It had two necklaces, the heart cleaved in two as well - perfect gift for a couple. You had to unstick the existing photos and you gently placed them back in the skull's folded hands.

Your back cricked when you rose to your full height, sore from all the grunt work; you were dwarfed by the six foot hole you had dug yourself.

Pulling up, you showered the grave with salt and gasoline - murmuring a last rite, and freeing the soul from the locket you took. You dropped a fiery match that engulfed the dead woman.

'Told you I'd be back,' you muttered, a small sad smile on your face. 'Goodbye, Grams. Sorry it took me so long, but . . . I'm leaving today. Put in a good word with God for me, eh?'

The wind chilled you in answer. You took that to mean her support - wherever she may be.

You wished you could've buried her again, but the smoke you lit was a signal to other predators. With her last symbol in your hand, you rushed to your borrowed car - a minivan, actually; for anonimity, you told yourself because you hated it so much.

The drive back to the compound would be short and dangerous; anything too still was always a target. Given your human scent, you weren't even surprised that a pack of Ferals had wandered to your car.

It was occasional to see monsters on land unless you were looking for them, or them you - it was usually only infilltrated by monsters when it was the courtesy of the angels; or when you could see that stray monster that had been driven to insanity out of hunger. Besides that, the lands belonged solely to the human faction.

You added the silencer to your gun as you flattened against a tree. They were already tensely sniffing the air and turning slowly in the direction of the grave.

You counted six. Your best weapon that would be silent and stealthy was in the car, you hadn't carried the bow and arrows because they were a hindrance to grave-digging. Whereas guns were swift but loud; if fire was a large problem, the guns were the worst way to call trouble.

You waited till the first monster's breath hovered above you, stale and rancid, mouth open with pieces of flesh dangling. You gulped your gag, placing your gun in line with it's jaw as it drew even nearer, snarling happily as it recognised your humanity. Lips pulled back to rip a chunk out of you when you shot it.

The silencer was only so effective that it didn't call more monsters from around. The ones on the side of the road with you were now snapping their jaws alertly, and all headed in your direction.

You caught the one falling on you - it's ears long and flapping like a bat's, eyes so large that they reminded you of golf balls, now lifeless. There was a lack of hair all across its body, stretchy skin that wrinkled a lot as well. Overall, it disgusted you. You used the monster as a sheild for any incoming claws and you shot the rest of them from behind your barrier.

Once clear, you dropped the disgusting body that seemed to have worsened in smell. You wrenched open you car door about to climb in when you noticed in your periphery, through the side-view mirror that you had miscounted.

The long inhuman claws of another Feral swept the air where your head had been a second ago - they could barely see, relying mostly on their nose and ears to guide them; these ones must've been attracted here by the fire in the hole.

Since you had leaned into the car by ducking, you had grabbed an arrow on the passenger seat and plunged it backwards so that it went through the monster's neck. You pushed it away from the car and into its friend.

You rushed to kill them, under pressure of their low growls that could bring even more monsters out. Restarting the car that groaned only invited more to the party. 

You calmly reversed your car and ran it over the monsters quickly. They let out a series of yelps and snarls as they collapsed. When you had straightened your car, you knew there would be more on your tail, so you sped down the trail back to your compound.

The security at the gate was quick to admit you; all the cars had tags on their windshields stating their Continent and Leaderships, etc. You pulled up in the quiet parking lot that was teeming with cars from all over North America. The gaurds also shot down any and all monsters that had managed to follow you, with their crossbows, spears and the other long-distance weapons.

You jogged up the stony staircase of one of the many palaces your family owned, and were let through the double doors without any hassle. The castle was bustling, the servants shouting orders to one another, preparing for the reception that evening. The guests were on the backyard for the outdoor wedding, which was to happen in ten minutes - something you were going to make a run for.

Thinking you went undetected, you tried to sneak into the changing rooms, until the first maid spotted you, rushing to your side with a wide-eyed panicky look.

'Lady Y/N! Where have you been? Oh, we've been worried sick! And look at that dress! So dirty, and you stink—!'

'Ms Frich,' you held a hand up, voice sharpened. She stopped trying to rotate you to assess the damage. She seemed to be going red in the face as she was forced to silence her words. You brought her with you to the changing room so that she didn't attract more unwanted attention.

'If my mother asks, I was here the whole time,' you warned her after you shut yourself in the empty room. 'All right, Ms Frich?'

'But—'

'That's an order,' you said, sternly. Your hands went over your neck to untie your dress. 'Now, help me change, will you?'

Fifteen minutes later, with Crystella Frich's help, you had donned a beautiful and delicate gown that came down to your ankles.

There were things wrong with it: it was pink, made of lace that made you want to scratch your skin raw all over, and it was lined with too many flowers that didn't associate with your personality at all.

You had to take a deep breath because the night was only starting. Rubbing light makeup on your face that got Crystella's side-eyes, and dousing yourself in perfume that got the maid's nose to scrunch, you deemed yourself ready for a miserable night.

With the bouquet of vibrant azaleas in your hand, you apologized profusely to your best friend when you arrived. She waved it off with a knowing glint in her eyes.

'You're here, that's what matters.'

As if you were going to miss this. It was a good thing she loved your brother unconditionally because your mother was not an easy woman to please.

Seriously, I do not envy you, your heart went out to her.

The music signalled your entrances played it's starting notes.

B/F looked breathtaking - you could only say as much before getting in line, as rehearsed. Her white dress swooping, and her train dragging down a few feet behind her. The puffy skirt of her wedding gown was fitting for her royalty. Her white bouquet of roses a representation of her peace-loving streak, ironically, since she was a well-reknowned hunter, currently pursuing the case of Metatron, an abhorently well-educated and nasty angel. She was the only person in the room with the appropriate amount of jewelery.

Rest of the guests, including you, all hoarded weapons under your swishy robes. From the tips of some tiaras to the bottom the pointy heals, girls were most heavily adorned with arms. While the men were more obvious about flaunting their voilence.

B/F and Seth were told not to worry about their safeties for one night, that they would be flanked by gaurds all day long - but you could bet your most priced gown on the fact that your brother would have a concealed gun under his suit jacket somewhere.

You walked down the aisle as the maid of honour, a cocky regal smirk on your lips. You couldn't help the pride that swelled in your chest to be seeing your brother at the end of it.

The procession was formal and quick. The vows were a bit longer and far more heartfelt.

The party moved soon to the reception hall where the palace servants had done a splendid job. The room determined the mood from the get-go; dulcet and romantic tones of decorations hanging from the high ceilings, even the barred windows were slit open for some sunshine. The flaming torches were fierce, glowing along with the warmth of the day. An assortment of food and drinks lined one of the walls, even a photo booth occupied one of the corners. Majority of the floor was being dominated by the dance floor, a smaller section of the room dedicated for round tables to sit on.

The royal waltz was being played by the band; they had begun with the national theme song before they eased into more appropriate songs for the day.

The hefty gowns and long coats of the Governors and the Generals - all hunters - were moving perfectly for a waltz. No matter what the song, you suspected that the waltz was really the only dance you all could allow yourselves when the whole continent's officers were in attendance.

You grabbed a few dances with a few good men, trying to avoid the unsavory kind as well as those bitching royal housewives who would no doubt find some way to broach the conversation of your departure or of your marraige.

The rest of your time was assigned for socialising. As one of the up-and-coming leaders, especially one who was sailing off to Europe the same night - it was of great importance to stay on top of things, to impress your name upon a few minds. It would also serve as a last chance to forge some contacts from this continent before belonging to the next.

You were discussing shop with one of the reaserchers at the lab that your father controlled when you heard your name being called.

'Ms L/N,' caught up an elderly. Mr Burke wasn't a Leader anymore but he kept track of the events of the world long after his retirement. He was shaking your hand with both of his, mindless of the conversation he interrupted.

Sal, one of your friends, had been talking about the ship you would be taking that night. He was prattling off the probable monsters and all the provisions you were carrying for it - you were double-checking, really; you'd been preparing for this for a week.

'I couldn't let the night end before telling you that what you did with the banshees in North Carolina - astounding. Inspired, really.'

You smiled tightly at him. 'Thank you, Mr Burke. It was a team effort,' you nodded at Sal. 'Please meet Mr Syl. One of the better researchers of our continent. His labs contributed to the, as you said, inspired solutions that we have today.'

Sal beamed, smiling smugly before shaking Mr Burke's hand. He was one of the more attention-seeking people. It served you well to keep him pleased. Sal had worked at the labs for about five years now and he was brilliant at his job. It was a pity that he wasn't more reknowned - but then again, his ego was inflamed enough. By far, he was your least liked friend, but a valued team member nevertheless.

'Really?' the older, richer man said. 'Well, I would love to hear all about that . . .'

'Please do,' you effortlessly handed off the responsibility to the talk to your colleague. 'And we wish you would keep an open mind - maybe even feel encouraged for the next time you make a donation.'

He was one of the sponsers. Mr Burke was few of those people who left his job but the job never left him. He was one of the old Leaders, having led South America; and one of very few ones who lived up to an old age. He married late; so even if he was of your grandfather's age, his daughter was a year younger than you were.

The man was a bragger by all rights, and as fake as the wig that he denied wearing. But he was good money, the additional support in times when the royal treasury fell short for it's citizens.

He also made changes in policies across countries where he felt necessary - it drove your brother crazy, especially since, as the acting Leader of America, your brother should've been asked for permission first. But eh, not your problem anymore, you supposed.

'Always after my wallet!' he claimed, but he didn't seem to mind, chukling and stroking his non-existent goatee.

'Oh, you've spoiled us, Mr Burke,' you gently stoked his ego. 'I apologise if I expected.'

His chest seem to swell as large as his potbelly, his shirt buttons threatening to burst. 'Nonsense! You know I'm here for you! Be sure to wait for a hefty check this year, Ms L/N - for the labs!'

You toasted to that, slipping away, sipping on your champagne as you went. You were gunning for a refill before you sacrificed more of your dignity to another one of these pretentious fucks - after all, there were many ex-leaders and "well-wishers" to pick from: the cat woman who could pass for a chimney, the Old Prince Sleazeball who would be sure to propose to you again for the position of his hunredth wife, or the Lord nosy gossip gay who sometimes knew about new things in your life before you did. You preferred the chimney, if you were being honest; even if you died from second-hand smoke in her presence, at least you didn't want the earth to swallow you up like you felt with the Sleazeball or the Gossip.

You had just exchanged your empty glass for one that was brimming with sparkling champagne when the drink was taken from your hands. Snatched, more-like.

Your frowning face was met with a similar scowl.

The woman who took your tolerance for this party was tapping her heel lightly on the shining marble floor.

'How many of those have you had?' she had her free hand on her hip.

Your frown deepened. 'Not enough to think you're funny,' you tried to grab your alcohol. She pulled it out of your reach, tsking you. 

'Do you know what this will do to your image?' her British accent that was alike yours, made it sound more scandalous than it was. She was also a friend who worked in Public Relations for you.

None of your team members were raised British, unlike you. They were much ahead in their respective fields of studies when you chose them for your team when you were mere thirteen years old. It did mean that they were all near a decade older than you were - mostly. They had to alter their habits and practices to suit the needs of the team ever since. Layla, or as everyone called her, Lay, had been one of the easier transformers. Her need for publicity had made it easier for her to be a perfectionist.

Unfortunately, that made it harder for you sometimes.

'I'm afraid you're about to tell me,' you groaned. 

She huffed. 'The last thing we need is you, a Leader by tonight to get drunk and create a scene on the night of her depature. Or worse yet! On the night of her brother's wedding!'

'Blimey, I'm not getting drunk! I'm just . . . self-medicating.'

She narrowed her eyes, placing your drink on a passing tray, and you watched longingly as it walked away from you. She grabbed you by the arm to take you to a more private corner, her expression softening as you slumped in defeat.

'I know today's hard for you,' she said. 'But we can't give any of these people any reasons that might weaken their trust in you.'

Despite the hard spots Lay put you in, you had come to see her as a real well-wisher in these pools of smarmy bastards. When it came down to it, your team were the only people you could trust, nice or not. Them, and the newly married couple.

'I'm sorry. I guess.'

She squeezed your arm. 'I understand. But pull it together, honey.'

You steeled your gaze, and nodded. 'All right. You wouldn't have any updates to take my mind off, would you?'

She hesitated but nodded. 'Top secret and unconfirmed. Jessica Winchester—'

'Sam Winchester's wife?'

'Yeah, the Asian Leaders. She's coming to visit her brother-in-law.'

Your brows scrunched, 'Dean Winchester? My partner.'

'Your partner, yes.'

'Why?'

'Confidential, of course,' she made a face. 'When I asked, they said that it wasn't of my business.'

'That's fishy,' you noted. 'They don't trust us, or they are not trustworthy.'

'Very hush-hush they are.' She complained, 'I mean, how much do we even know about your future partner, eh? The way they keep secrets, makes one wonder if they truly have something to hide.'

You gave her a rueful smile. 'Not everyone likes media, Lay.'

'Mrs Stun. Lady Y/N, could I have a moment please?'

Your conversaton was stalled by a man who was at least a foot and a half taller than you, with a far more heavier built, but with most features matching yours. You smiled at the new man with two drinks in his hands.

'Lord L/N, of course.' It felt weird not call your brother by name, but Lord/Lady was followed by surname after marriage. 'Mrs Stun, please excuse us.'

She nodded with a large beaming smile characteristic for people of her career. 'Is that for Lady Y/N?' she pointed at the whiskey glasses in your elder brother's hand, who nodded.

Gracefully, she plucked one of the glasses from his hands, and clinked it to the other. 'Thank you very much, Lord L/N. Once again, congratulations on your wedding!' She flounced out, immediately jumping onto the nearest sponser to talk their ears off with compliments of your name.

Your brother chuckled in disbelief, and you sighed.

'Does she ever stop working?' his burly American accent was a stark contrast to your pristine English one.

'I think even when she dies, she would want to have make-up on so she looks good lying in her casket.'

'At least she's good. People are talking about your transfer as much as the wedding,' he sipped his drink, no hint of resentment towards you, just a glittering happiness dancing in his eyes.

'Let that be an exaggeration,' you scowled, eyeing his drink enviously. 'I'm nervous about it, as is.' You usually wouldn't be seen turning down fame, but there was a buildup of bile on your throat from being a nervous wreck all evening.

He glanced at you, some of that happiness diming. 'You're good at what you do, you know?'

'I've never been outside the palace except for hunts, and suddenly, I'm leaving the continent?' your hands fidget into position in front of you, so to an outsider you would look regal and deep in conversation. Inside, however, your heart pounded at every mention of Europe.

You had been preparing for it all your life, but it seemed doomed somehow. The smaller steps had been easier, the preparations that your staff and team had been doing for over a week had seemed bite-sized. Yet, just the word "Europe" seemed too large to swallow.

'I thought you were excited,' he said.

'I was. I am,' you sighed. 'It's just so much bigger when it's so close. I will be half-responsible for a continent, it's people and their problems—'

'And you would be better at it than I ever was,' he said, smiling fondly at you.

You scoffed, 'Right, because that's why I got Europe, the continent of the exiled.'

You were probably exaggerating. You got the continent because you were a Secondborn, and it had been your mother's native land once upon a time. But it was no secret that the European leaders were often the harbringers of dark ages. At least, that had been the case for the last few centuries where the once good name of Europe had been dredged through muck. Most importantly, what terrified you the most was that you weren't even supposed to be a Leader so soon.

'Hey, before Dean went bat-shit crazy, he seemed to be doing well for himself and Europe,' he joked.

Recently, the previous Leader of Europe, Gordon Walker, who you were replacing had been executed by his own partner - your soon-to-be partner - the world-renowned Dean Winchester who had defeated the Darkness, or colloquially, Amara. Dean was famous for it because the world had been highly imbalanced by Amara, throwing millions of families into another rendition of the same old Apocalpyse. He was the black sheep of the hunting world because of his secretive nature, yet somehow the most respected because of his biggest achievement.

You had only gotten your position because of Gordon's death. It's the job of the Firstborn, and their spouses to rule the continents. Often the Secondborns were the back-ups, and you had been on the reserve, raised as a European, for this very day.

At midnight, on your twenty-fifth birthday, they would be shiping you out. There were more candidates for this opportunity, of course, but you had been closest to the age of twenty-five - no coronation ceremony took place before that age.

'So my only hope is that I don't lose my marbles?' you snarked.

'You're very capable of keeping-it-together,' he smiled. There was an easy confidence in him that made people believe in everything that he said. The courts agreed with most of the things that came out of his mouth, the ladies swooned over his charm, and the world admired him for the prosperity he seemed to bring about; he was the first Leader to end an archangel: Raphael.

'Aren't you glass half-full?' you groused.

'Try it some time. Makes poeple like you. You might just kill Lay out of sheer happiness,' he chuckled while you cracked a small smile.

'You're happy,' you noticed.

He quirked a brow.

'More than usual,' you clarified. You wouldn't say that you and your brother were in constant touch with one another; but you were there for the important stuff, you believed.

Once more, the twinkle in his eyes intensified. 'I am in love.'

You shot him a look that told him you weren't buying what he was selling. He rolled his eyes.

'Won't hurt you to try it sometime, you know?'

It was your turn to roll your eyes. You were about to retort negatively when a remembrance struck you. 'Shoot!'

'What?'

'Come with me!'

You dragged your brother to find his bride, who you also kidnapped from the dance floor. You brought them both to the chillier December atmosphere of the balcony.

'Everything okay?' B/F asked.

You produced the twinned locket from the tresses of your gown. With an almost bouncing excitement, you presented it to them.

Inquisitevly, the couple took a half each and inspected the joint broken hearts. Recogition only seemed to strike your brother's face, his eyes shot up to you in shock, 'Grandma Via?'

You nodded enthusiastically. You explained for B/F's benefit, 'Grams was a spinster, alright? Weaving endless incredible and over-the-top tales. Full of joyous lies, that woman.'

'But,' your brother delicately inspected the untainted gold, a nostalgia staning his tone. 'There was one story that she never lied about.'

'I remember!' B/F grabbed her husband's elbow. 'You said that it was your favourite thing about her.'

You said, 'She always said that this shall go to Seth and his future bride—'

'I never thought I'd see it again,' he teared up, and pride swelled in you. There were identical smiles tugging on both of your faces.

You had had to pull some strings for it, calling in some extra favours.

Since your transfer had been announced, the wedding had been preponed to today. Your parents had been disappointed because it meant adjusting their tough schedules, but Seth and B/F had insisted - they opted for less festivities just so you would be able to attend.

You weren't supposed to go above and beyond for anyone, attachments were often the reasons why good Leaders were lost but . . . this is your brother.

If you hadn't been leaving, you would have given him normal stuff like a new castle or maybe a new town or maybe honeymoon resort. But since you were leaving, you also needed your present to double as a parting gift.

'You've always wanted it,' you smirked. Your grandmother had been buried, dead a few months after your grandfather's untimely demise during a mission. You and Seth had been too young for the adults to divulge where. Yet, you had pulled many records to unearth her and found the last remaining symbol of her love.

'Didn't she say that the locket helped them both when the Leadership got tough?' B/F asked. 'It was gifted to them by a Cupid itself, a symbol of their unforgettable love, or something. Some soulmate deal.'

Seth wrapped a hand around your best friend, pulling her closer as he tested the magnet on the two halves of the heart. It fit into place with a beautiful click. There was a certain ethereal glow to it, and before your eyes you saw the shine pass on to the newlyweds. You don't think they realised it, but they were practically, suddenly, heart-eyeing each other even more than they were before.

'I even made space for your photos,' you added. 'Grams used to say that these hearts are magical and they bless that union whose photos are in it.'

'Never knew you to be a romanic, Y/N,' B/F laughed, breaking from the spell; she pulled you into a hug that you begrudgingly returned. Over her shoulder, your brother gratefully nodded at you - like you, he hated close contact. You had rarely seen him engage in any public displays of affection, sans for B/F, even if he was much more emotional than you were.

'I'm not,' you said, pulling away. 'Your husband is, that's why you are getting the pendant.'

'We didn't get you anything,' Seth said. For your birthday, he meant. He and B/F had been so busy preparing for a wedding that was shifted ahead of time for you; that had been gift enough.

You waved him off, teasing, 'Get me something when I get married.'

It wasn't like gifts were a large part of your world, anyway. There weren't shops ladden with these materialistic items that were up for trade - you had heard that that was a concept in some other Universes, you'd obviously never seen it yourself though.

'You literally plan never to,' B/F swatted your arm, seeing through your lopphole.

You changed the topic smoothly, 'What, a woman can't be self-sufficient?'

If you were prone to sea-sickness, now would be the most terrible time to find out. Already, your gut churned with nervous energy; without the sounds and the music of the wedding to keep out the self-doubting thoughts, you were holding onto your composure by a thread.

Soldiers under the careful command of your team were passing by you, bowing as they crossed you before they could clamber aboard the pirate ship your parents had hired. Twice, you had to diffuse the situation on the ship - huge fights barely stopped from breaking out between the humans and the vampires. You had come back down after to fix your gaze on the horizon where you were expecting someone.

Weapons, cars and food - all essentials were loaded. Plus, the promised bloodbags that was the payment to the pirates in exchange for the "safe" travel.

Sea was the monster territory; unfortunately for humans, they had to use the assist of these monsters to travel overseas. That's why the Firstborns were the Leaders of the country they were born in, while the other children were far more expendible. Not that the Firstborns never travelled, but their exposure to sea was minimal - during Half-Yearly meetings for instance.

Minutes ticked by, everything was accomodated and accounted for. The pirates had given their deadline for sailing: when the clock struck twelve.

'Lady Y/N,' your medic called. Selina trudged down the shaky plank that adjoined the port to the large ship. 'It's five to midnight. The pirates demand we leave. Won't wait a second longer than they have to.'

You offered her your hand when you noticed she was glancing at the sea way below with scepticism. Your hands folded before you once more when she was safely by your side.

'I'm waiting for my parents,' you informed steadily. You wouldn't show weakness so near a pirate ship, open enough for any vampire to spot, but your heart was tremoring in your chest. 'They must be on their way to say goodbye.'

Your teammate froze next to you. 'Oh, you're waiting for that.'

A sinking feeling attacked you. You kept your face from falling. 'Is there something you need to tell me, Ms Doll?'

She flinched. 'Um, Lord Sen was talking,' (the gay gossiper), 'I don't even know if it's accurate.'

'What?'

'Your parents were briefly seen at the wedding; after greeting Lord and Lady L/N, they excused themselves for a party due North.'

'Oh.' Even if you managed to keep your disappointment out of your face, you couldn't keep it from your voice.

'I thought you knew,' she helplessly said.

Your smile was tight as you tried not to grouch about how the gossiper knew before you did, one of the many times where the news had flown around because of him, and had reached you by word of mouth through many middle persons.

'Well, thank you for telling me,' you softly answered. 'Let's board. No point wishing for goodbyes, eh?'

Before she could utter any comfort, the warning bell of the ship went off. Three minutes to departure.

You supported your friend up the unsteady plank, balancing yourself much better. You let the grumpy crewmen retract the piece of rickety wood up. You brushed yourself once, and checked yourself for signs of damage to your large puffy gown.

'Almost thought you wouldn't make it,' a southern drawl said.

Sharply twisting on the points of your long heels, you were faced with the Captain of the ship. You knew because he was wearing a captain's hat, and had a smirk to match the cockiness that came with such a job.

You nodded at Selina to go ahead.

'Hello, cheri. Name's Benjamin Lafitte Roy, the Captain of the Bloody Princess.' The man before you seemed nothing out of the oridinary, but you knew from experience that he would be of superior strength, speed, senses and agility than an average human.

You shook his hand professionally. 'Pleasure. Leader Y/N L/N of Europe, as of midnight,' you nodded to the watch he was wearing. The ship had started it's course, you noticed, right on time. Your people were disappearing down the stairs and into the lower levels this travel ship had arranged for you.

The crew members were working around with ropes that made no sense to you, and shouting orders you had never heard before. Even then, you subtly checked their weapons to gauge the amount of threat they would actually pose if things came down to the worse possible scenario; already, you noticed some vampires sneering in the direction of your soldiers, who were gritting back in defiance.

Mr Lafitte tilted his head, 'Never heard of you before. Aren't you humans supposed to toot your own horns?'

Bemusment crinkled the edges of your eyes in a challenging smile. 'I've never heard of you either. And if humans need to publicise ourselves, monsters don't. Your reputation should have far exceeded our meeting, Mr Laffite.'

'Captain,' he snapped. 'Discretion comes with the trade; we ain't stupid enough to blow our own covers like your faction does.'

Your hands interlocked. 'Exactly. You have your strengths, Captain. So don't judge before you see mine.'

'Y'ain't trying to make enemies, are ya?' he stepped closer so that he could intimidate you with his height. But your heels left little difference, giving you the added advantage of a sharp point if you felt the need to do some serious damage.

'We have a straightforward barter between food and travel,' you said instead. 'But if we add the sub-clause of peace, I believe our journey might be much more pleasant,' you stated. 'Would you agree to leave my people alone if I leave yours?'

He sized you up; your elbows to your sides, standing upright as if you had a rod for a spine and stiff as a doll in packaged box that used to be sold way back when the world wasn't as shitty. Benny had seen dolls like those, and he had seen hunters like you. He judged your cocky undertone well.

'You think we can't take you?' he asked, angered by your audacity.

You smiled. 'Some of us, maybe - the sea is your territory. However, the war is my domain, Captain Lafitte. I suggest if you wish to survive, you shouldn't make enemies out of some of the best trained survivalists.'

When he didn't respond for he was fuming, you took that as a win.

'Do we have a deal?' you "innocently" took your hand out for a shake again.

The encounter with the ship's Captain left you reeling. Your heart had been hammering the entire time, but it was what you had been taught to do. It's what you had trained for your entire life. 

A scurvy vampire showed you downstairs, on the lower deck. Even if the teeth you saw on this vampire were rotten, you knew that there would be another set just itching to descend on you. 

You politely thanked him when he stopped before the last door in the corridor. There were five in total: a captain's room, a kitchen, a servant's quarter, and a bathroom, the last room was where they kept their "weapons", or so is what they told the other ships when they wanted to guise the fact that they were illegally transporting humans from one continent to another. 

For most of the travel, this would be the room where you would spend your time, with your team and the newly recruited soldiers. The stairs were weak, creaky, and dimly lit, your climb down was based on your reflexive memory. When you stepped down to the levelled ground, indeed, the room was filled with weapons; heaps and piles, disordered and crustily bloodstained. 

Your nose scrunched in disgust. The perfectionist in you decided they would need cleaning first thing in the morning. 

For now, you crossed the room, counting the tiles against the back walls - three to the right, and then the one diagonal. Your heel tapped lightly against the tile that wobbled under your foot.  A moment later, the loose tile was pushed up and out, to the side. You peered down to see Boa, your bodygaurd shimmying down the ladder rungs and disappearing into the room.

You held back a sigh and manuvered yourself into a position that wouldn't make you fall face-first inside, a horrible first impression for the first time that you would be seeing the whole of your troops. It was an effort not to huff as you carefully lowered yourself, still in the dress from the wedding. Still in need of a shower since that morning when you went grave-digging, and ever since you'd been sweating a lot. 

When you turned, you almost had a heart attack. 

'SURPRISE!' was the large yell, interspersed with a few shouts of 'Happy Birthday!'

You hadn't screamed out of sheer stubbornness, but your eyes were wide enough to pop out of your sockets. Your hands had pointed your weapon at the crowd who had ducked with a collective small yelp.

'My, my! I did not expect that,' you replaced your Glock in your thigh holster from the almost invisible slit to your gown. You administered a deep breath so that your galloping heart. 'Though let that be a warning to not scare me again.'

'Oh, lighten up, mate!' Baz, Boa's twin brother laughed. 'Not every day you turn twenty-five!'

There were murmurs of agreement around the room. You finally noticed the small dessert feast that they had laid out in one corner of the room on a table that looked it had a lot going on. It was brimming with different English cakes, muffins, and pastries. A small counter for alcohol had also been set up next to it. The rest of the food boxes were packed still, lining against one wall because everyone had come from the wedding and must be too tired to unpack it immediately. You were surprised anyone had space for food in their tummies at all. 

You found yourself smiling despite yourself, a light blush dusting your cheeks at their thoughtful gesture. 'All right. But just for tonight. I can party, I suppose.' You were confident you wouldn't enjoy it, but they didn't have to know that.

There was a slight uproar of cheers, as the crowd fanned out, and started chattering excitedly about Europe, sharing tea cakes and blueberry muffins. The recruited soldiers were all considerably new, picked out only a few weeks prior; you hoped this party might be an opportunity for them to bond. 

Your eyes were bleary from the lack of sleep. You hadn't slept for more than six hours in the last two days, even if most of your work had been done. You'd spent the early mornings when you woke up anxiously, pacing around your room and overthinking about your time oncoming in Europe. 

After the wedding, your feet were killing you, and you had been ready to fall right into the first sleeping bag offered to you, but with this party, you might have to stay awake longer. Not to mention, make rounds. It would be rude on your part to not greet every person in the room personally - in fact, it would bug you if you didn't. It wouldn't be very royal of you if you didn't thank one and all. 

Deciding to gobble a beverage so that you don't seem like a damn sleepwalker, you started your grateful journey with the bartender. You waited behind two teenagers who were bouncing on their feet as the bartender served them with young people juice. 

When it was your turn, you noticed the man behind the counter swallow nervously. 'Lady Y/N. Your M-Majesty? Um, what would yo—?'

'Please, be at ease,' you said, treating him to a friendly smile. 'Would you have anything that has a lot of sugar and caffeine, Mr . . . ?'

'Jay Meg,' he said. 'Uh, how about a coffee?'

You pursed your lips. 'I suppose.'

'Or maybe you would like something laced with vodka or rum?' he read your mood. 'Maybe an energy drink.'

You perked up at the thought of something colder. Your dress was sticking to your legs, the tight fit of the upper bodice wasn't any less suffocating. Add that to the stale air that this lower level had, you would be sure to find your skin sticky later. The least you could do was have something to cool off. 

'. . . If that isn't an imposition,' you said. Despite your needs, you weren't about to disappoint anyone in this room on your first day by saying no. 'An energy drink, please,' you requested, knowing that alcohol was still temporarily banned for you.

'Coming right up!' the man expertly launched into a mixing process, embracing his element, and relaxing before you.

He was a short man with dark skin tones possessing a bright smile and a fit body. He pointed out his wife and daughter to you, both old enough that they also constituted your army, both of them laughing around a woman who had collected a crowd of few and was describing ridiculous, yet beautiful tales of valor to them, steepling it with a sense of humour that often caused them to dissolve into giggles. 

You paid rapt attention to him, ending the conversation with him by expressing your gratitude. He was bashful in accepting your compliment. 

You continued this process with a few more people. Listening to new stories, storing their names in your mind, linking their families, observing their strengths and weaknesses. It was so usual for you that you almost forgot about the weariness of your body. You did, however, remove yourself from your heels. You had worn it for over twenty hours already, any more would probably have killed you. You tried not to grimace when your feet carried you all over the wet-and-dry shipboards, some covered in mossy patches that you avoided. 

It was nearing four o'clock in the morning when the party finally died down. You were on your fifth energy drink but even that seemed to have evaporated from your system.

Most of the people had slumbered away into bags that were now cramped all over the floor, leaving only a few feet of space to walk in between. The remaining few you had already talked to; these people were either on duty guards or were now playing a quiet game or two before they would slink off as well.

You wanted to follow suit and not wake up for years, but you needed to change. And you really needed that shower. 

So when the last person, except the guards, had gone off to sleep, you pulled yourself up the ladder, and into the single bathroom that was available for everyone aboard. It was lucky, you guessed, that all ships came in-built with bathrooms because the vampires didn't even use them. On this ship, it was only operational for the humans they smuggled. 

The menial job of cleaning yourself was laborious and seemed to take hours. In reality, it was only minutes when you stepped out, cleaning after yourself for the next person so that no one would feel disgusted later. 

You greeted the guards on your way down, smiling much better than you felt. You were quietly lowering yourself into the lowest level of the ship; your eyes greedily eyeing the sleeping bag on the other end of the room meant for you, surrounded by the sleeping bags of your team.

You could already make out Sal's silhouette whispering furiously in his phone. He was prone to calls like these, mostly in the middle of the night - like he had a secret to hide and protect. It didn't bug you as much as it probably should because he had been from your Father's lab - he was safe, just like all the other humans on the ship.

A hand came out of the shadows and gripped your shoulder, making you leap in fright, and turn, once again with your gun towards the culprit. 

A chuckle, followed by the person stepping into the lights that came from one of the small lamps that had been hung equidistantly from another, revealing your PR woman. 

'Would people quit doing that?' you hissed. 'Mrs Stun, I could've shot you!'

'But you didn't. That's what makes you so great,' Lay buttered you up.

'Don't make me change my mind about shooting you,' you growled. Lay was one of the few people who you could freely threaten. She had a hard shell, if anything, she loved your sarcastic snides - she said that they made you more human, whatever that meant.

As predicted, she snorted. 'Right. Forgot that you don't like praises. All right, then, shall we get to business?'

'But I was about to sleep,' your voice bordered on a whine. 

She sympathetically said, 'I'll make this quick.'

She dragged you back up, and into the blissfully empty kitchen. Because you were so exhausted, it took you a moment to realize why - the vampires don't eat. Your authoritative brain reminded you that you would have to schedule shifts for kitchen duty for that same reason, just having food in boxes wasn't going to help anyone. 

'All right,' she crossed her arms, after making sure that no monster lurked in any dark shadows. Her eyes sharpened. 'I heard what you said to Benny earlier in the night.'

You raked a hand in your hair. Your other hand came to rub your face, only you were still holding the gun so the cold hard surface supported your head instead. 

No one was supposed to hear it. But Lay had eyes and ears everywhere.

You sighed against the barrel, 'What do you want me to say? I'm not sorry to have set our boundaries straight.'

She put her hands on her hips, her nervous tell. 'Just felt like you got overconfident. I'm not sure if that was the best move, diplomatically speaking.'

Your hands fell to your side and you assessed the fear in her body language. She shuffled under your piercing e/cs. Your compassion for her rose, 'I know you're not a hunter, but I know how to treat a monster. You have to let them know that you're not weak, and you have to let them know you've got nothing to lose.'

She rolled her eyes defiantly. 'Maybe you don't.'

Your jaw clenched but you let that slide when your eyes noticed her fingers fidgeting with her wedding ring. It wasn't like you understood what that felt like, but you knew what being responsible for people on hunts was like.

'You can't let them know your weakness,' you said, ignoring her previous jab. 'Besides, our ultimate purpose is the good of humanity. Or at least, mine is. I can't expect you to stop loving your family, but I know I'll be prioritizing the good of our faction, over just the handful of us.'

She knew your personal sets of values and agendas loud and clear. Hell, she set them in the first place; you'd uttered them countless times in front of the media and parties. You'd sold that motto to others so often and meant it.

So even if these people were at your disposal, you were at the world's disposal, and you wouldn't refrain from admitting that you would care about the world's greater good far more than the people in your vicinity. 

Lay took a deep breath. 'You're right, okay? I just, I worry sometimes.'

'I'm glad you shared it with me,' you said. 'Will be that be all?'

She gathered her thoughts. 'I would just like to request a small Ball for the Winchesters.'

Your brows furrowed. 'I didn't know we needed to interact with them.'

Except for marriages, the Leaders never worked together, sometimes not even then. There was an unseen boundary in the land, marking separate territories. Even you would only be working in Europe temporarily until Dean Winchester would get himself a bride who would be fitter for the position. Secondborns, may it be male or female, never got a preference in case of marriage of the Firstborn that was already ruling the continent. You were essentially just a fail-safe. 

In case both Leaders were Firstborn, then, the male would get a preference. As in, if the male of the two Leaders were to marry, then, that married couple would lead. The Firstborn female Leader would have to retire. 

And if both the Leaders were male and firstborn, then the whole point of married women ruling ran moot. 

You didn't see why, for that reason, you would have to interact with the Winchesters at all. 

'Your mother thinks that it would do you good to make contacts—'

'You met her?' you cut Lay off. 

'Last night,' she guiltily admitted. 'When she heard about Jessica Winchester visiting—'

You scoffed, 'She wants me to throw the Ball for prospective marriage alliances!' The welcoming of Jessica Winchester as a fellow Leader would just be a ruse, you saw that political play, a ruse to invite several nobles and young ex-Leaders, plus, even a few current Leaders. 

You didn't disagree about a lot of things with your mother, but marriage was one of them. You had announced long back that you would never submit your life to a man. Not in this men-run world where your respect would forever be overshadowed by the man you married. But your mother refused to bow down to your one plea.

There were barely any good men, as is. Your brother was very few of them. As happy as you were for your best friend and your brother to have found each other in this Godforsaken universe, far be it for you to follow in their footsteps. 

'She just wants to make sure that you are looked for after your retirement.'

It bruised your heart to think that. Even if Lay had rephrased it to make it sound like a good idea, it only served to remind you that your mother never planned to have you back in America. Your parents wouldn't accept what another continent discards - even if your retirement is dignified, they would never allow you to return to your old home and disgrace them in the hunter's community. 

'Right,' you gritted. 'Fine, Mrs Stun. Be that as it may, don't hope that I shall pick a man. It would be just for mother's satisfaction.'

With your nose in the air, you stormed out. 

You only saw the Captain again that evening, in his office. You had crashed hard that morning and slept well into the late afternoon, after which you arranged for a meeting with Benjamin. He met you in an hour of your notice.

Resuming a seat opposite the vampire, you rested one knee over the other and comfortably leaned back in your chair, a faux presence of confidence on your countenance. You were holding a mug from the kitchens that Selina had prepared for you, it rested atop your knee, waiting to be given.

'Thank you for seeing me, Captain Lafitte,' you said. 'I didn't think you would have after yesterday.'

'Can't say no on someone's birthday,' he sarcastically said. 'My men are very unhappy by the ruckus you lot fathered.'

'In our world, nothing tickles us unless it's chaos,' you grinned as if you'd been the life of the party. 'I'm sure you agree.'

He kept a plaintive look on his face, unhappy with you in general.

'I wanted a few travel details,' you said, cutting to the chase when he lacked a similar enthusiasm.

'What about?' he asked, lacing his hands formally on the dirty desk.

'We didn't speak directly to you when booking your services—'

Your parents had arranged the medium of travelling for you. Lay barely could scrape any information because no one had bothered to answer all the appropriate details.

When you probed your father, he simply advised to be prepared for everything like a good Leader should be. It was actually the last conversation you had had with him. Three months ago.

'Trading,' he growled, cutting you off. 'We don't serve you.'

You had the decency to backtrack, 'I got carried away in a manner of speaking.' You continued, 'I wish to have a few questions answered, is all.'

He stared blankly at you, hints of irritation making him tap his foot under the table - you could hear the wooden tiles creaking under the weight of his rough boots.

'How many days will it take?' you said.

'Eleven or sixteen. Relies on the moods of the sea.'

'Will there be any check posts?' you said. 'Any tolls? Or any tributes along the way.'

'No. But there'll be ships. All monsters, and they better not see you.'

'You won't be offering us protection?'

He raised a brow. 'Can't you do it for yourself?'

You smiled coldly, 'Of course. Just asking, Captain. Any particular ships we should be worried about in the near future?'

'If you're not ready for them all, I don't see why we're shiping you to be a Leader, Ms L/N.'

Your jaw clenched. 'How many vampires are on your ship?' you fired another question.

'How is this relevant?' he didn't seem to want to co-operate anymore.

'Don't pretend you didn't count my people,' your lips curled to mimic a snarl, you icily stared him down. 'Do you want us on your good side or not?'

He held your e/c eyes for a long time before he relented with a long exhale. 'Thirty-six. And we protect our own in time of crisis.'

'Seems fair,' you said. 'What can you tell me about Jessica Winchester?'

He had to hold back his surprise when you flipped the talk somewhere else entirely. 'What?'

'Enemies keep closer tabs than friends do,' you waved your hand. 'Winchesters are known for creating ripples; if anyone, your lot might know of them.'

His lips thinned into the thinnest line you'd seen on him yet. You almost expected him to stroke his scruff in thought, but you noticed his hands tightening instead.

'Why would I tell you?' he said, slow, calculating.

You felt the reason would have been obvious. 'Dean Winchester kills his own. I hardly need point out how we may need each other's help if he gets out of hand. And now, conspiring with his family behind the backs of the fellow Leaders?'

Benny was in disbelief of you. He shook his head, finally. 'Gettin' a little ahead of yourself, aren't you, cheri?' he said, his expression grim. 'I'm not going to be caught dead doing your dirty work.'

There was a tendril of fear you saw in his eyes. He was scared, you realised of the almighty Winchesters. Disappointed, you puckered your lips, switching tactics.

You placed the cup before you, sliding it across the rough surface of the unkept wooden desk. 'Peace offering?'

He glanced at the dark liquid that he had thought had contained your alcohol previously, yet he hadn't seen you take a sip from it. Suspicions rose high in his head - suddenly, you were giving him a truce? After he refused you information?

'Dead man's blood?'

You brought a dart gun out of your holster that had been strapped to your belt. Your movements were easier now that you had been rid of the puffy gown. You were wearing a normal pair of jeans and a loose top. You still had your heels, but that was only because your parents had never allowed you to buy anything else - your height wasn't your best feature, as they'd pointed out several times. You surrendered the gun to the table, although the barrel pointed towards the vampire.

'I would shoot you in the heart if I had to.' You nodded at the mug in between the two of you. 'That's just good old bloody whiskey. Emphasis on the blood.'

It would explain why you didn't take a pull from it, but you were asking something next to impossible from him - you were asking him for trust. He took the glass closer to him, placing it at the edge of his side of the table, that way, he wasn't rude, and if it fell, it won't be his problem. Between his weak scruff, you could see his frown. 'What are you playing at?'

'I'm loyal,' you shrugged, vague. 'You can trust me.'

'Everything is fair love and war, isn't it?' his insinuation was clear; he was still sulking about your attitude since last night.

'I realize we didn't get off on the best foot,' you conceded, a little. 'But I get what I want, Captain. And I don't want betrayal, from my side or anyone else's.'

'Is that supposed to be a fucking comfort?' he groused, tired of your haywire words.

'I'm very straightforward for a diplomat, I'm sure you've realized,' you baited.

'Look, we made a deal. I drop you to the other side, and we're through. I ain't in the mood for your fucking games. Keep out of my business and I'll be sure to do so from yours,' he leaned in closer to the table to drive the intensity of his words home.

'That's not what I want,' you said.

'I don't care what you want!' his hand slapped on the wood and the mug shattered in a crash, the bedeviled drink spreading on the ground, and some soaking into the wooden planks that made the floor. Your nose gave a minuscule crinkle, a need for cleanliness arising in your brain, but you resisted breaking from your argument.

You sighed through your nose. 'I'm sure you'll care for an island, however.'

It made him pause. 'Excuse me?'

You curled your hands against one another as you so often did, part of being a royal, and you smiled a little. 'So far, we've traded food for travel, and peace for peace. You say that this journey might be over two weeks; to maintain the morale and productivity of my faction, I want to strike the bargain for an island in return of . . . say, a crash course?'

Befuddled and intrigued, 'Crash course?'

'I figured you've never stepped on land; my people have never taken advantage of water. There's an island called Lastovo in Croatia with your name on it, for when your sails want to rest - if you teach my kind how to make boats and other aquatic surviving facilities out of scraps.'

Benny seemed genuinely disarmed at the proposal. He had never met a human who would be crazy enough to offer a piece of land to a band of monsters. He hadn't even heard of such craziness before, and he had been immortal for a while.

'What's the catch?' he sceptically measured you up, looking for a sign to call you out. Your face was impossible to read, a smooth mask of cockiness, and eyes so fearless, as if they'd never seen or felt a proper loss before.

You shrugged, once again giving a warped reply. 'When I asserted my power, I was just letting you know that we're a match for you, Captain - if that's what's stopping you from making this deal.'

'I don't trust you,' Benny said. How were you not getting it? How were you so callously offering land to monsters? How were you sitting so enjoyably in front of the vampire you threatened just last night?

He was both bewildered and affronted at your callous attitude. He could hear your heightened heartbeat, which was the only indicator that there was as much mistrust from your end as it was from his - but you must be one of those fucking adrenaline junkies to be still conducting your manner so politely.

He searched your simple eyes where he could detect no hint of emotion - even in his own heartless vampires, he would notice more than you - they had anger, they had pain, they had happiness. Or ego, at least.

But the death in your expression was a bit chilling, and this was coming from a hundred-year-old vampire.

Indeed, he had seen a lot of Leaders. Somehow, you were scaring him more. Somehow, he hated you the most.

'Another good reason, eh?' you chirped up. 'For bonding, I mean. This crash course can help all of us.'

His teeth ground in annoyance. 'You're mad.'

You blinked. Finally, Benny could see the underlying human in you who was surprised, angered, and entertained by his comment. He could see the ego of a seasoned huntress. And then he saw your humanity disappear again, a mask shifting into place with a practiced twitch of your face.

'Is that a yes?' you stood up, persistent beyond belief.

'If other ships spot you, you'll be dead within minutes. And our ship'll be crippled—'

'Are you scared?' you said, smirking in a way that made him want to kill you.

His eyes darted to the extending blood that was racing towards your feet because of the heady sway that came to the ship from the sea. It was bad blood growing between the two of you, bringing the metaphor to life - and it gave Benny an idea.

'Let your men be ready at five,' he said.

You beamed at him in agreement. You re-palmed your gun, at which Benny tensed, but then you tucked it back into its holding place. 'Always a pleasure doing business,' you said, parting from the room.

Benny grabbed a bowl from the nearby shelf and extracted a half-drunk blood bag from his desk drawer that almost fell on his leg when he hurriedly opened it. Spilling most of the blood into the bowl, he placed a call to his creator. It was usually only a demon's way of communicating, but since the humans had started gaining more power than they were due very recently, small allegiances had also started to branch out amongst the other factions, unbeknownst to your kind.

First, Seth L/N had slaughtered Raphael. Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner had killed most of the Monster Alphas. The now B/F L/N had conquered Metatron, a mad angel activist. Joana Harvelle had left a chain of murders of the succession of the Kings of Hell, most recently her victim had been Abaddon, who she'd murdered with the help of a Dean fucking Winchester. This last man who also ended up slaying the Darkness.

If Benny's instincts were right, which they usually were, it could not be a coincidence that a sociopath like you was headed to Europe at this time - perhaps, to fill in as the last piece . . .

When he sensed that the other line had accepted, he announced the dreaded news.

'I have the last Leader of the prophecy in my sights, Chief. It's the Birthday Girl.'

A/N: Birthdays can be so stressful sometimes. Phew 😮‍💨!

Also, Happy New Year, you guys - to those who celebrate 🙃❤️! Thought I'd begin my year with this chapter blast, hehe. Lemme know what you thought of it!

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I'm thinking of making the elves nocturnal herbivores, the orcs lone predators, the wolves as prey, and the dwarves as ground-adapted. What should I include if they're from the same taxonomic family as humans? What should I do if redditor Reaar already did that with his dwarves?

first off, don't worry about whether or not your ideas have "already been done". just do your thing.

Nocturnal herbivore elves: fun! They'll need reflective eyes for that low-light vision and probably flexible lips to help grab foliage as they bring it into their mouths. Plant eating can really wear teeth down, but a lot of herbivores compensate for this by just having very long teeth roots that push upwards as the teeth wear down. go check out horse teeth, they're wacky. being people though, the elves can also combat this problem and expand their diet by cooking their plants, which breaks them down and makes them softer, and can also remove a lot of toxins.

orcs as lone predators: nice. this means they'll probably be a less social species, i assume, so their culture would reflect this. lone predator species usually have to rely more on stealthy ambush hunting, because they don't have a group to strategize with. Being people, of course, orcs can develop weapons that help them hunt effectively even without a team. They'll have to be clever and careful if they want to survive on their own.

wolves as prey: do you mean actual wolves becoming a generalized prey animal? or specifically that the lone predator orcs prefer to hunt wolves? it would take some pretty wacky environmental pressures for wolves to become common prey animals when they're already natural pack hunters. not sure how that would work. and if the orcs are targeting wolves as their own prey, that's a whole new problem because lone hunters preying on pack animals is really difficult. the pack animals have the advantage here, strategically. and wolves aren't as easily spooked and separated from a group the way herd herbivores are (a strategy that still works best if the hunters are in a group)

ground adapted dwarves: I am not sure what this means. to my knowledge, dwarves are usually already ground adapted? they walk on the ground and aren't shown as people who do a lot of climbing or swimming, tbh. they're even underground adapted. I tried to look up what "ground-adapted" could mean and also tried to find this "Reaar" dude on reddit to figure out what you meant and so far I haven't had any luck? To my understanding it just means "Adapted to live on the ground" and uh. yeah, yep, pretty sure the average fantasy dwarf is already doing that.

making them all related to humans: just give them humanoid features/traits. five fingers and toes. upright bipeds. no tail. In this case, the elves may not be able to fully adapt specialized herbivore teeth and reflective eyes, but they'll still work fine. other primates are nocturnal and more herbivorous, so maybe the elves just diverged from the human family tree in a more distant past than the orcs and dwarves? taxonomy goes back pretty far, after all. if you really get into it, humans and reptiles are technically still related to each other. distantly. so it depends on how close you want these relations to be, I guess.

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

A Light in Dark Places - Chapter Two: Adar Meets Sauron’s Other Ex

Alternate Title: We Really Need to Get Adar A Boyfriend

Summary: Adar wasn’t expecting his son, Glug, to bring him the fallen lord of Eregion. Now he must decide how best to use Celebrimbor to his advantage while ignoring the rush of long suppressed memories and forgotten emotions triggered by the Elf Lord’s own relationship with Sauron.

EDIT: Here's a link to chapter 1:

Tagging: @adventurepunks @angel-astre @eowyn7023 @plotdesigner @illegalcerebral

Adar forced himself to remain an unbending, unaffected fixture on the front line. His children needed to see him as they marched to their deaths and he needed to acknowledge the ones he sacrificed for Sauron’s downfall. He knew the name of every Uruk as they marched by, remembered their first steps, their first set of armor, their endless cries of pain as Morgoth and Mairon shaped them into unloved but not unloving creatures. No, despite the worst of Morgoth’s designs, love still existed in their shattered hearts, even if it was a love unrecognized by Elf, Dwarf, Man, or Valar. The world’s disdain for the familial love that bound every Uruk in this camp made it all the more precious. Maybe the most precious thing in all of Middle-Earth.

He was willing to sacrifice it all to end the last remaining architect of their fallen condition. Better to kill all his children by himself than see them enslaved to Sauron once more. Was that not true love?

He inhaled and forced his face to adopt his determined facade. His children trusted him to do what was best for them. He could not shatter their trust with even a hint of doubt. He had always been the battered but unbreakable defensive wall they could shelter behind as the world threw its worst at them. A being that did not doubt, that did not hesitate, that did not mourn what had to be sacrificed for his children’s safety and happiness.

“Lord Father?”

Adar glanced at Uzog, the cautious archer with a metal prosthetic hand like their father.

“Yes, my child?”

“Glug brought back a prisoner when he shouldn’t have. A golden haired elf.”

Lady Galadriel.

Galadriel had escaped only a day ago and, while he assumed she would remain near the battlefield, he had not expected her to be recaptured so easily. Then again, Glug was growing into a capable Uruk commander.

“The Elf is as bloody as a warg’s breakfast, Adar. He is as dark as the one you hunt.”

This did not sound like Galadriel, unless Sauron found her first, although Adar doubted he would let her go if that was true. Galadriel was many things, but she wasn’t stealthy enough to escape Sauron’s grasp unless he willed it. Nor could Sauron expect Galadriel to return to Adar considering the last time Sauron saw them together, Galadriel had threatened to kill all of his children in front of him.

“What game are you playing, Gorthaur,” Adar muttered to himself in Black Speech.

He commanded Uzog to take him to Glug and this strange prisoner. They rushed through marching ranks of proud and shouting Uruks. War was the one thing they knew how to do better than anyone. War was the one thing Adar swore they would never have to indulge in again, once they created their homeland. Was it not Morgoth’s and Sauron’s nature to twist and break all promises and was he not their child?

Uzog led Adar to the clearing in front of his own tent where several Uruks gathered together around Glug and his prisoner. Before he could properly identify the elf, they ran straight into him. Adar grabbed the Elf’s arms to prevent them from falling and he was bewildered to see that not only were they not Galadriel, but for a moment he thought he was looking into the face of Feanor himself.

Bloody, defiant, on the verge of losing his mind, but also warmer, older, handsomer, and wilder. Not the wilderness of a trapped and starving wolf. No, it was one of a trained falcon. Domesticated and loyal until someone awoke its deepest instincts and then it became overwhelmed by its desire to fly, hunt, and kill.

There was a familiar darkness to this Elf. One that passed by unnoticed until it was already worming its way into his mind and soul. A darkness and eternal fire that led to the Oath of Feanor and to the rise of Morgoth and Sauron. But it was not of the Elf, this bloody and battered Elf who even now seemed on the verge of running away. It was around the Elf, a part of the Elf, but not an integral part, not a natural part given by the Valar. A part that had consumed Adar and his children whole except for the faint, struggling spark that kept them united. He knew this was the work of Sauron, but he could not call this Elf a servant of Sauron nor a servant of the Valar. More like Galadriel, a being caught between the two. An almost kindred spirit if Adar dared to call an Elf this beautiful kin.

The Elf was filthy and bloody, hardly something he expected from a citizen of Eregion, which he was judging from the holly designs on his robes. Tear streaks cut through the dirt on his round cheeks and his wrinkles, not common for Elves, betrayed a life of unrecoverable sorrow and pain. His curly golden hair did not shine like Galadriel’s nor was it combed in any manner expected from an Elf, even one in combat, but Adar liked this Elf’s stronger tones of gold and undertones of brown better. Adar met the startled Elf’s gaze and caught the light of the two trees in his hazel eyes. Galadriel was the only other Elf familiar to Adar who carried their light and Adar found this Elf’s eyes as enchanting as hers.

“Who is he and why did you bring him here?” Adar asked Glug in Black Speech.

Logic caught up with memory and he knew this couldn’t be Feanor, so who was he? All of Feanor’s sons were dead or missing. Although didn’t one have a son? It wasn’t easy nor desirable to purposely recall memories from the First Age. Yes, there was a son. So similar and yet so different from the father and the grandfather.

“This elf has something of Sauron’s,” Glug explained. “I felt a dark presence.”

At this, the Elf broke down sobbing, catching Adar off guard, a strange feeling of discomfort creeping up his spine. Even the other Uruks shifted uncomfortably and some half glanced away. How long had it been since any of them had shed a tear? Even Uruk babies stopped crying after their first year.

“Strange is the servant of Sauron who remembers how to cry,” Adar gently reproached the Elf.

It was as if he had slapped the Elf back to his senses. He stepped from Adar’s grasp and stubbornly wiped his tears away, spreading blood across his cheeks in the process and Adar noticed a missing thumb. The Elf stood tall, like Feanor himself stood when insulted and he snapped back, “I may have been a willing fool for the Great Deceiver once, but no more! Unlike you, I have escaped from his grasp.”

“Not very far, if we willingly served Sauron,” Adar replied and the Elf’s face twitched in confusion. “I assure you, you won’t find a single friend of Sauron’s in our company for we are his greatest foes.”

“Then why serve his purposes by attacking Eregion?”

The Uruks grumbled and shifted threateningly, but Adar gestured for restraint.

“We serve no one’s purpose, but our own,” Adar growled, noticing Glug’s shifting expression.

His son never believed in the assault on Eregion and Adar knew others agreed with him.

“We attack Eregion because they warmly welcomed Sauron into their city and set him up as a king. The people of Eregion are nothing more than his slaves who willingly protect him from my children.”

The Feanorian fire flashed in the Elf’s eyes and he puffed his chest as he stood eye to eye with Adar, pointing at the Uruk Lord.

“You are as great a deceiver as your former master. You murder the innocent and call them guilty to justify your actions. The people of Eregion did not welcome nor do they serve the Dark Lord. They were betrayed, betrayed by their lord who should have known better.”

The Elf’s anger grew, but his stature diminished.

“By their lord who knew better, but wanted what he wanted, even if it was something he never deserved,” the Elf continued, his own bitterness and hatred sharp enough to wound Sauron himself. “And so he accepted a poisoned gift and loved a being incapable of anything but malice and deceit and in doing so, condemned his people.”

The Elf defiantly and desperately met Adar’s gaze and said, “The fault is mine for I am Celebrimbor, the former lord of Eregion, fallen consort of the Great Deceiver, and the only servant who must pay for the Dark Lord’s crimes.”

Adar’s face softened and he was once more chained to a mountain cliff, abandoned and forgotten, the pouring rain chilling his very bone marrow, and he called into the wind and rain for death. Instead, a golden light that burnt his very skin appeared and took the face of a fiery haired Elf with cheekbones as sharp as Caradhras and flaming eyes that promised to consume one’s fea in the utmost pleasurable ways. Promises of children, of power, and of wine were exchanged and Adar drank them all, deeply, fervently, deliriously.

He instinctively rested a hand on Celebrimbor’s shoulder, and softly said in Quenya, “He is terrible in his beauty, isn’t he?”

“The most terrible and the most beautiful,” Celebrimbor replied in Quenya, his harsh features softening as well.

“Lord Father,” Glug urgently interrupted and Adar remembered his place.

He stepped back and ordered a pair of Uruks to take Celebrimbor to the tent they prepared for Galadriel and ensure he couldn’t escape. The fallen Elf argued and resisted, but it was obvious he was exhausted from his escape and Adar’s children were bred for kidnapping and war.

This would be the second Feanor to escape Sauron’s grasp. The Dark Lord’s wrath would be swift and severe.

“Lord Father, should we not call back the assault?” Glug said.

“Sauron is still in the city.”

“Yes, but we do not have the Elven rings and if the strange Elf contains something Sauron wants–”

“Continues the assault as planned,” Adar snapped, Glug flinching at his tone. “I must question the Elf further.”

“But the Elf said Sauron wants–”

“Continue the assault, Glug,” Adar commanded and marched to his tent, despite feeling unprepared to face Sauron’s latest victim.

Adar entered his tent and ordered his guards to leave him alone with Celebrimbor. They hesitated, but knew not to question him in his current mood. The golden haired Elf was chained to the same chair Galadriel used only a day ago, the dinner table void of any food.

“Please, you must call off the assault,” Celebrimbor begged. “You cannot defeat the Great Deceiver through strength alone. Surely, you know this.”

“I know Sauron has many needs, the first of which is allies,” said Adar. “Was that why he came to you? To spread his influence?”

“What does it matter if you can’t defeat him?”

“Sauron is weakest when he’s isolated. We’ve neutralized whatever following he gained in Eregion,” said Adar and Celebrimbor’s face flinched with rage and sorrow. “But he’s like a rat. He always looks for a new place and people he can infest.”

Celebrimbor hesitated before admitting, “He briefly treated with the dwarves in Khazad-dum through me, but I doubt he will flee there.”

The Elf squeezed the pouch clenched in his right hand and Adar demanded, “Give it to me.”

Celebrimbor struggled against his bonds, almost tipping over his chair in the process. Adar caught him by the chin and said, “I’d rather avoid further damage to your handsome features.”

Celebrimbor stiffened at his touch, a mix of terror and surprise crossed his dirt and blood smeared face. The blood dashed across his cheek bones was reminiscent of war paint favored by some of his children. His skin was hot to the touch, as if the fires of Eregion’s furnace formed his core. Even with the dirt and the blood and the sweat and tears, he was beautiful. The light of Valinor still within him, like all Elves who crossed the sea.

Adar’s hand traveled up his cheek, caressing the weathered skin, a thumb tracing the wrinkles that branched from the corner of his eyeas. Celebrimbor inhaled sharply and pulled his head away and Adar dropped his hand at the same rate his face fell. Marion used to comfort him the same way after the worst of Morgoth’s punishments. Of course he would use the same trick for his latest toy.

Adar turned away sharply and took two steps towards the barren table, his hand finding his hilt and squeezing it to soothe his fluttering nerves. Not even Galadriel with her own special relationship with Sauron and her own embodiment of Valinor brought back so many memories and long lost emotions.

“Does it surprise you that a Uruk would mimic his former master’s acts of false affection?” He demanded, although he wasn’t sure the true target of his sudden rage and embarrassment.

“He spoke to me,” Celebrimbor softly began, wrestling with each word as if Adar was dragging each syllable out from him. “He spoke of Morgoth and their…their “game” is what he called it.”

Adar barked a laugh and glanced at Celebrimbor with dark amusement.

“I’m sure he spared no details, reveling in his ability to withstand the worst of Morgoth’s tortures and humiliations.”

“For a moment, I…I pitied him.”

Adar whirled around and Celebrimbor shot him a desperate and despairing half grimace.

“Pitied Sauron?”

“For a moment he was just another victim of Morgoth’s, no different from my own uncle, Maedhros. Often I would look into my uncle’s eyes and see nothing but hollowness. He had the same look, only for a flicker of a second, and then it was gone, replaced by the same ravenous hunger that drove Morgoth’s darkness. All the pity in the world cannot call him back.”

“Would you?” Adar asked softly in Quenya.

“Wouldn’t you?” Celebrimbor replied.

Adar had not known fear like this since he held Morgoth’s crown in his hand, about to kill Sauron with it. He recognized Sauron’s hold on Galadriel and used it to his advantage, but that had been different from this. Galadriel was still fighting the depth of Sauron’s hold over her. Still stubbornly believing she had a choice when around him, but Celebrimbor…Sauron shattered him from the inside out. Whatever Sauron needed Galadriel for, he needed her still whole but cracking, but Celebrimbor had to be broken and mended and broken and mended over and over and over again. As if Sauron wanted no one to benefit from his abilities after he was done with the Elf. Maybe Sauron even meant to keep him, a pet to honor the start of his new reign as dark lord of Middle-Earth.

“What did he offer you?” Adar asked, still speaking in Quenya.

Another painful half grimace and Celebrimbor said, “The opportunity to create a legacy that would overshadow my grandfather’s.”

“You do not need him for that.”

Celebrimbor’s face twitched and it took several seconds before he seemingly regained control over his voice, “What did he offer you?”

“Children,” said Adar with a half smile of his own.

Celebrimbor glanced towards the entrance of the tent.

“Then for the sake of your children, you must let me go. He will come for me and will slay any who stand in his way.”

Yes, the pouch. The very thing that brought Sauron’s dark presence into his tent. Something solid to focus on instead of whatever had passed between him and Celebrimbor during the last few minutes.

“What is in the pouch?”

Celebrimbor hung his head in shame, once more wrestling for words, but Adar didn’t have time or patience or ability to wait. Better to act out on his sudden confusion and anxiety, even though he often scolded his children for such behavior.

He wrestled the pouch from Celebrimbor’s clenched fist and Sauron’s flaming, burning, gorgeous form surrounded him, his soft, coaxing voice promising power renewed, the entirety of Middle-Earth for his beloved children, and Mairon’s love regained. Flames licked at his scarred and beaten skin once more and Adar closed his eyes to hold back his tears. How he missed this incredible, painful glory and love.

Pain. Something heavy landed on his chest. Was he on the ground? Adar blinked and stiffened as he realized his own lips were mere inches away from Celebrimbor’s, who seemed as startled as he was. The Elf must have tried to take the pouch back. His hand with the missing thumb had slipped out of his chains and Adar mentally scolded him for not noticing that. However, it must have been too painful for Celebrimbor to use or rest on for it laid sprawled out above Adar’s head. The Elf’s other hand was still chained to the chair, which was lying across Celebrimbor’s legs. Yes, it must have tripped him and now he pinned Adar down with nothing more than the weight of his own body, the Elf’s chest pressed against his own armored chest.

The Elf’s weight was strangely soothing. The same kind of soothing he felt when Galadriel held him while pointing a knife to his throat. How long had it been since he felt another’s touch? Surely before Morgoth’s fall. How long had he hungered for something that could never be found until this very moment revealed it was nothing more than knowing someone else truly existed in a physical form he could touch and feel. That the world was more than a non-existent grey, full of sacrifice and loss and even his children were nothing but specters in a dying world.

How expressive Celebrimbor was. Something he had not expected from Feanor’s heirs. His round and handsome face revealed the clashing thoughts that raced through his mind: confusion, uncertainty, embarrassment, fear, planning a new escape attempt. How Adar wanted to run his thumb across Celebrimor’s chapped and split lips before pulling him into a kiss to quiet his mind.

“Adar!” “Lord Father!”

Celebrimbor yelped as Glug grabbed his curls and ripped the Elf off of Adar. Uzog scrunched their nose nervously as they offered their own hand to their father.

“Glug!” Adar snapped, rising by himself in an attempt to overcome his own shame and embarrassment. “Do not harm him.”

Glug, his knife already drawing a trickle of blood from Celebrimbor’s throat,opened his mouth to argue, “But Adar–”

“Fetch me chains, Glug,” Adar commanded.

A half sneer half pout crossed Glug’s young face, the knife defiantly drawing one last drop of blood before he rose and stomped out of the tent. Uzog ran their hand across their twitching nose, another nervous tic that meant they had thoughts they would not dare share, and followed Glug. Adar grabbed Celebrimbor by the front of his robes and arranged him back into his chair as if he weighed no more than a hollow, wooden puppet. Blood pooled along the back of Celebrimbor’s robe and matted the curls in the back of his head. How was he still resisting, let alone standing and talking?

Adar pinned his hands on Celebrimbor’s shoulders to ensure he would stay still, the Elf hissing and wincing in the process.

“Stop fighting,” Adar commanded, embarrassing himself by using his exasperated father's voice instead of the Lord of the Uruk’s voice. “You are injured far more than you wish to admit. You cannot undo your crimes by leaping into Death’s arms.”

If it had been that easy, Adar would have done it long ago.

Blood rolled down the side of Celebrimbor’s face and Adar gently swept back his curls to identify the deep gash that ran across the Elf’s forehead. Celebrimbor stiffened as expected, but only half pulled away, as if catching himself in the middle of the act and forcing himself to remain still. A part of Adar wanted to run his matted, but still soft, still perfumed and pampered curls through his fingers. How happy his children would be when they could care for their own bodies with the same love and attention as that of the Elves.

Glug and Uzog returned with heavy black chains and Adar pulled away from the Elf. Celebrimbor winced every time a length of chain wrapped around his chest and pinned him to the chair, but he had left Adar with no other option.

“Not so tight, Glug,” Adar said in Black Speech and his son spitefully tightened the chains wrap around the Elf, causing Celebrimbor to moan and wheeze. “He is our guest, Glug.”

Uzog wiped their nose once more and Adar internally sighed. Children.

As Glug circled him one final time, Celebrimbor gestured to grab him and he said, “That’s Elrond’s brooch.”

Glug sheepishly turned to look at Adar and, yes, the Elf was right. Glug was wearing the very pin Elrond gave to Galadriel to make her escape. When Adar asked him why in Black Speech, Glug looked down and muttered, “It’s shiny.”

“Was it taken or was it given?” asked Celebrimbor, desperately wiggling to escape his bonds despite the obvious agony it caused him. “Show me his body, if taken.”

“Leave us!” Adar snapped at his children before they could confirm one way or another.

Glug tied off the chain and left with a huff as Uzog shot Adar one last concern glanced before following their brother. Strange that life had been easier when they were simply looking for a homeland. Now that Sauron had dragged they back into the conflicts and contradicts of Middle-Earth everything was on the verge of falling apart.

“How did he get that brooch?” Celebrimbor pressed.

“It was a gift.”

“From Elrond?” asked Celebrimbor, tears forming in his eyes.

Adar nodded and Celebrimbor swallowed.

“I saw,” he sputtered, his voice hitching as he struggled to control what could not be controlled in his condition. “Elves wearing Lindon’s armor. I thought they were rescuing the city, but why would they?”

Again, that painful half grimace crossed his chapped lips and bitter resignation darkened his face, as if some brutal understanding had finally been accepted.

“They, too, think my people willingly betrayed them. That I dedicated myself to the Great Deceiver and his desire to dominate all life on Middle-Earth. How can they think otherwise? After I ignored Lady Galadriel’s warning, after I lied to the High King, after–”

He choked back another sob and hung his head. Adar slowly bent before the broken Elf and gently raised his chin.

“What did Sauron ask of you?”

Celebrimbor inhaled a few times to calm his nerves and regain control over his voice.

“Rings,” he half cried, half laughed. “Rings like the Elven three. Rings for Dwarves…Rings for Men…”

Celebrimbor trailed off and his gaze traveled over Adar’s shoulder. He glanced behind him and saw the pouch lying underneath the barren table.

“For Men?” Adar asked, unable to hide the incredulousness from his voice. “Men would never be able to withstand their power.”

“No,” Celebrimbor said pitifully. “That is why they must never return to Sauron. That is why you must release me and let me escape while I still can.”

“You will not make it far, not with your wounds and even if you did, you won’t be able to avoid Sauron forever.”

Celebrimbor’s jaw tensed in Adar’s grasp and then a spark burst in his eyes.

“You take the nine to Elrond.”

“What?”

“You take the nine to Elrond who will ensure they reach our High King. He will know how to use them to destroy Sauron’s plans. Release me and I will return to Eregion to buy you and Elrond time.”

“To return to Eregion would be mean endless torture and death.”

“It is my city and I failed her in life. Maybe I can redeem myself in her eyes in death.”

Adar withdrew from the Elf, half tempted to believe this was the talk of blood loss and pain and, yet, he also sensed opportunity in Celebrimbor’s words. He crossed the tent and using his prosthetic hand, he retrieved the pouch, Sauron’s influence flaring across his metal fingers. He hesitated for a moment before turning to Celebrimbor and unbuttoned the top three clasps of his robes. Celebrimbor sputtered objection after objection, twisting and turning the best he could, until Adar slipped the pouch into the secret inner pocket all Feanorians sewed into their outfits. That paranoid family made it a habit of having multiple hidden pockets and compartments in all of their clothes and furniture and traveling tools. Thieves and murderers knew better than to trust other thieves and murderers.

Celebrimbor shot him a look that was a mixture of outrage, confusion, and something Adar refused to name for his own sake.

“I will send a healer to you,” said Adar. “Do not attempt to resist or escape while under her care, otherwise she’ll make you wish you were back in Sauron’s hands.”

“You can’t keep me here!” Celebrimbor called to his retreating back.

Adar left the tent and saw Glug, arms folded across his chest, and Uzog, wiping his nose vigorously, waiting for him.

“Uzog,” Adar cut in before either child could speak. “Send for Shazzash. Tell her she is to care for the Elf as one of our own.”

“One of our own, all father?” Uzog could not help himself but ask.

Adar sighed as he heard his own phrasing echoed back. He needed peace and quiet and a chance to think.

“I need him alive, Uzog, alive and in the same or better condition than when he was brought in, understand?”

“No, Adar, but I will tell her,” said Uzog, sharing a glance with Glug before scurrying off.

Adar didn’t need Glug to speak to feel his anger and confusion.

“I ask you to trust me a little longer, Glug,” Adar said, holding up a hand to silence Glug’s diatribe. “I need time to think and plan.”

“Adar, let me help.”

“Help me by keeping up the assault and ensuring I’m not disturbed,” Adar said as gently as he could, but it didn’t soften the blow at all.

Glug’s face was heavy with sorrow and pity and Adar knew his fearless, faultless persona was cracking.

[scozthewoz]

TF2 mercs as DND races

Spy▪︎Changeling. He uses a mask most of the time to appear as his regular human-like self, however, and he masquerades as human.

Heavy▪︎Orc. Heavy closely shares the orc-like build, as well as their brutishness in battle. like orcs, heavy comes off as short tempered and meat headed, even though that's not the case.

Medic▪︎Shadar-kai. I like to compare shadar-kai's devotion to the raven queen as a doctor's devotion to morality and certain codes, all of which medic would completely ignore. Also like the shadar-kai, medic seems unable to truly die.

Scout▪︎Harengon. A race that's dexterious, lucky, and full of energy, just like scout. and obviously, his little double jump rabbit hops.

Pyro▪︎Dragonborn. Fire dragon. Just a little guy.

Engineer▪︎Dwarf. Short, stout, hearty, and proficient workers with stone and metal. Sounds like enginner, doesn't it?

Sniper▪︎Owlin. Chosen over any old arracockra for their special trait of being incredibly silent and stealthy. After all, sniper is a quiet guy!

Soldier▪︎Half-orc. a perfectly chotic combination of his already screwed up self with some orcish savagery.

Demoman▪︎Warforged. i'm gonna be honest, i have no reasoning for this other than knightly vibes.

Anyway, there you go. Might draw some of these.

[fairmerthefarmer]

More character designs except this time they’re fantasy dwarves and whenever I draw fantasy dwarves they legally all need to have facial hair regardless of gender cause I think that’s cool.

Also these guys are all secretly Narnian and are also on the crew of the Dawn Treader cause I’m forever building out the crew in my mind, and it’s practicing doing my own designs. Here is some more of the crew.

The slightest amount of lore for them is down here if you care, along with general Narnia headcanons and waffling.

——————————————————————————

The dwarf on the far left is a river dwarf I’ve decided. I don’t know fully that is other than I think it’d be cool if there was a tribe of dwarves that were close to the water nymphs, and generally have great knowledge and skills that are an asset on a sailing crew.

The river dwarves are one of the reasons telmarines were scared of the water (along with the niads, however the bridge of beruna imprisoned the river god, who otherwise was also responsible for many folk tales told to young telmarine children. Their fear of water is ironic to me cause I believe there’s evidence of them coming from the Caribbean as pirates? I imagine the humans on caspians crew are like, either rediscovering their roots or the few who held on to that seafaring background. Mostly younger telmarines in the same generation as caspian, they questioned the leadership and were very happy when old narnia overthrew Miraz.)

the river dwarves are generally peaceful and most lived in hiding during telmars reign. They’re temperament is very stable and they do well under pressure. River dwarves are incredibly stealthy and only attack in necessity as self defense. In terms of stealth think like lotr hobbits, and this is a great contrast to most other dwarves in Narnia (strong strength and combat, low stealth) A lot of them abstained from fighting against telmar alltogether due to their peaceful values. They are disconnected from some other dwarf cultures which can cause some tension.

The two in the middle come from a tribe of dwarves that are blacksmiths, and also they’re siblings. The brother in particular is a toy maker by trade specifically, and loves kids. His wife (far right) has a background in carpentry. Him and his wife don’t have any but virtually adopt any child they see. The sister is always having a good time, and seafaring comes more naturally to her than smithywork ever did.

The carpentry/forest dwarves generally have a history of closeness with dryads similarly to how the river dwarves are with the water spirits. Some of that connection has been severed due to how deeply the dryads retreated and were removed when Caspian the Conqueror (not our caspian) and his descendants over-deforested. It takes time to restore that connection.

The two on the left may or may not have a situationship and the two on the right have been married for years.

Regardless of trade they’re all on the ship because they’re loyal as fuck to Caspian, the married couple kind of see themselves in a parental role to him but it’s debatable on how that actually plays out.

Also no one has a name cause I’m so bad at coming up with names.

————————

My thinking in general is that Narnian dwarves make up a lot of the trades, other races do contribute as well, (I’d imagine some marshwiggles work in stuff related to ships/seafaring but perhaps not travelling themselves) most fauns are more into the arts/spirituality, but some do take up trades (a couple of my designs from this post are tradespeople, one of them is a bard.)

I haven’t done many centaur designs, but my vague thoughts is that there are those who are more spiritual and practice prophecy, stargazing, advising, and those who are more into combat, and are protectors, or messengers.

—————

Gender and the ideas around sexuality I’d also imagine would be a lot more fluid and most Narnians are a lot more open than some of the more human civilizations. (Like it’s a country made of sentient trees, talking animals and mythical beings, and the human countries kind of canonically are like “what the heck is going on over there???” Or they’re afraid of them and try to colonize them, like the telmarines)

These are all half baked ideas but I’ve been fixated on Narnia since I was five and it’s lowkey the reason I spent so much time and passion into drawing and now have a career in graphic design and illustration, so. This is mostly all for me, so don’t mind how long this post has gotten. 🤠

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

“…Jaybird? Hey, Jaybird?”

That's right, he'd forgotten he'd called the third semi-responsible adult in his life. 

He ran his hand through his hair as his gaze wandered around the skate park in search of a familiar mop of black hair. 

“Dick, I'm going to die.”

“What?!” his brother's voice came to him in alarm, and Jason swore he heard a metallic sound in the background of something falling.

“Jaybird, who took you? Were you able to free yourself? Do you know where you are? I'm calling Bruce..."

"No!" he interrupted, with a hint of panic. "I am fine! “

“You said you were going to die!”

“Yes, because I lost Tim!”

He wanted to slap himself. Here's Robin, Batman's partner, scourge of criminals, being distracted for five seconds and losing his younger brother at the skate park. How pathetic was that?

Ok, Tim was small, damn stealthy and slipped away like a fish on the run. And he was also all too used to doing things alone.

He had seen a better track, it was fine to go there, and no he didn't have to tell his brother, he was doing well on his own anyway!

He knew from experience how capable the brat was - the pepper spray from their first meeting still stung - but he also knew that Tim was a magnet for trouble like everyone in this damn family.

“How did you lose an entire nine year old boy?!” Dick asked, somewhere between panic and bewilderment. 

“Hey, give me a break. He's a dwarf! I got distracted and poof. Disappeared.”

[nicker44]

Aidrian the stealthy dwarf rogue

Aidrian finished up his journey in Dun Morogh by killing trogs and exploring the cave in Gol'bolar Quarry.

After this Aidrian decided to leave his home of Dun Morogh and venture to the human lands, specifically Elwynn forest via the tram that connects the two cities of Iron Forge and Stormwind.

When he arrived he went to to the SI:7 in old town to discuss plans with his fellow rogues. Upon his arrival he was informed that he needed to steal a shipping schedule from the a band of Defias just outside of the human town of Goldshire

So, he made his way to Jerod's Landing and found the dockmaster, a goblin, typical, goblins will do anything for a quick buck. Aidrian thinks to himself: "Fortunately, for him, I won't be slaying him today; I simply need what's in his pocket".

Swiftly, Aidrian grabs the shipping schedule and slips out unnoticed.

When he makes his way back to SI:7 Aidrian is rewarded with a new dagger. The blade of Cunning! it is much sharper and nimble than his previous blades. It'll be a welcomed addition to cut the throats of his enemies.

He equips it in his main hand

After achieving the respect of the rogue operatives in Stormwind city. Aidrian heads back to the dwarven district in Stormwind. He was told to make a delivery to Loch Modan.

So, he heads back onto the Tram and makes his way through the snowy fields of Dun Morogh to the much temperate climate of Loch Modan. After taking some brief respite in Thelsmar he makes his way south to the watch tower.

Upon the arrival to the tower he's told to go back to stormwind and make another delivery so the guard can get a new shield.

"I don't particularly like being an errand boy, but I did want to stay longer in the human lands to fight off the gnolls and defias bandits" Aidrian said aloud. So, he started to make his way back. On his route back, he was asked just on the other side of the tunnels in Dun Morgh to discover the fate of a dwarf that has gone missing. Using his expertise he discovers the grim fate of his fellow dwarf.

It was an infamous ice claw bear, Mangeclaw, that did him in. After reading his journal Aidrian vowed to avenge him. After tracking the bear down he does exactly that and is rewarded with yet another dagger, this one he puts in his off-hand.

Aidrian finishes making it back to the human lands he heard of an expert weapon's master that could teach him the basics of learning swords. Aidrian pays his fee of 10 silver and learns how to use swords. Aidrian thinks that this investment will certainly pay off later.

He leaves the safety of the grand city of Stormwind and heads on out to Elwynn Forest. Aidrian discovers a wanted poster for a gnoll named "Hogger" who has been terrorizing the area as of late and has overpowered all attempts to capture. "This is the perfect opportunity to try out my new blades" Aidrian thinks. Despite the reward being less than substantial, Aidrian wants to prove himself to the humans of this land that he is a worthy rogue to be hired and relied on.

So, he tracks down Hogger and slays him.

After reporting his demise and get his reward he grows stronger, he learns that he can move even stealthier and faster while being undetected.

There will be more to come on Aidrian's journey as well as the rest of the crew. If any of you are interested I have been ocassionally streaming their journey's on twitch. Come join me on the adventures! https://www.twitch.tv/slickynick44

[heroineimages]

Lady Warrior Art Poll!

Hey, so one of my artist friends is doing commissions for her Patreon followers, and I was thinking of doing a meme of sorts. I was thinking of having done a portrait of some brutal, gnarly, angry-looking lady warrior eyeing the viewer with a caption that reads:

"That which does not kill me... should RUN."

But I can't decide what kind of lady warrior, so I thought I'd put it to my readers in a poll. I decided to toss in options from both history and fiction/fantasy, and depending on what gets picked, I may have a follow-up poll to narrow it further. (I'd also love to make it a week-long poll, but I want to give the artist plenty of time to prep!)

I considered several other possibilities for the list, but decided to narrow it to just eight. For the rebel trooper, lady knight, and pirate queen, I may also let pollsters pick what race to make her (ie, Star Wars or D&D race). And if anyone wants to offer suggestions about their choice in the comments or tags, feel free!

[astralfrontier]

A fantasy world has a sentai team. There's a Human, Elf, Dwarf, Orc, and Lizard Ranger. Each suit gives the wearer appropriate racial powers, e.g. the Elf Ranger is stealthy, in tune with nature, and can shoot bows.

Thing is, the suits aren't worn by members of that race. For example, the Elf Ranger is an orc.

[woodenpegz]

Wondering what the point of including an eighth dwarf named Stealthy