#a) got read like a fucking book by this orc he’d just met

[chimerafeathers]

Chilchuck has SO many good expressions but this one is by far my favorite. like. this is his response to being told “idk man, maybe you should try telling these people you care about them and don’t want them to die”

fucking haunted

[ghostalservice]

A little 14k mostly-pwp with some light plot treat for a friend!

checking it twice

“I’ve just got to get myself out there.” Stede settles on the edge of the couch, wringing his hands. “That’s what Dr. French says.”

Ed considers him. Stede’s anxious—that’s nothing new. He’s always been high-strung, but since the divorce it’s been a different kind of tension, a frenetic sort of optimism and urgency replacing his usual simmering tension.

When he’d pulled over on his motorcycle five years ago to check on the smoking, bright teal Volvo on the side of the turnpike, he’d thought three things: one, the smoke was worryingly black and he’d probably feel bad if he saw that a bunch of kids had gotten blown up in a gas tank explosion on the news later; two, that that color of teal was ridiculous, perfect, and had to be custom (and who custom-paints a Volvo?); and three, it would really piss Izzy off to look back and realize he’d lost Ed somewhere on the highway when he finally bothered to look behind him.

And the car hadn’t exploded. Which was good, because Stede Bonnet, lunatic that he was and is, had about thirty pounds of old, dry comic books crammed in the backseat, just waiting to catch fire. A present for his wife, he’d said, a complete collection of some artist or other he thought she would enjoy.

The first time Ed saw Stede’s little hobby shop, he was entranced. Giant posters of orcs and elves, a model Enterprise fully four feet long hanging from the ceiling, racks of indie comics from queer creators, and a model train that ran along the tops of the shelves: Bonnet Adventures is wild, weird, and wacky and Ed fucking loved it at first sight. It’s where Stede had asked to be dropped off, and at first, Ed had thought it was out of some kind of weird fear about Ed knowing where he lived. But after a few minutes with Stede—maniac, brilliant, stupid Stede—he realized that Bonnet Adventures might not be where he lives, but it’s his home. And that’s even more true now after the divorce.

Look. Ed’s got money. He’s been the scourge of the corporate restructuring world for fifteen years, and people are terrified when they hear his name suggested by COOs. When he met Stede, he’d been on his way home from his vacation house, a cabin by the beach just as luxurious as Stede’s empty apartment, and just as soulless. He’s had more money than he knows what to do with for years, and he’d gotten fucking tired of it.

So after a few years catching occasional dinners and drinks with Stede, dropping by the shop to pick him up, and gazing through the windows like a fucking orphan out of a Dickens book at the pile of fun shit and crowds of young queers having a good time, he said fuck it and cut back. Now he does a job every month or so, just to keep himself sharp. The rest of the time he hangs out at Stede’s shop, shooting the shit with Stede, causing trouble by loading the toy trains with dry ice or putting cutout photos of Nick Cage all over the shop (Stede still hasn’t found all the ones inside the mouths of action figures), or DMing for the teens who hang around. He’s gotten pretty good at that last one.

Mary hadn’t loved the shop. She hadn’t loved it at all. She’d made that clear to Stede many, many times, and somehow, he still tried bringing her comic books and model ships for birthdays and anniversaries, no matter how many times Ed tried to stop him.

Now, years later, Mary’s happily divorced from Stede and Stede is—

Well. He’s trying.

Keep reading at ao3!

[seavoice]

in the end, we lie awake (and we dream of making our escape)

(click on title for AO3 link, or read more to continue here)

They could go to Alaska.

Annabeth wasn’t sure when she’d woken up. She’d been asleep at some point, of that she was certain, because Tartarus’s poisonous, suffocating air had been a heavy shroud on her senses, and for a moment she had borne it with a dreamlike paralysis before gasping awake to a sky full of glittering stars. Then she had lain there in one of Camp’s rolling fields, breathing in the sweet scent of strawberries. Safe, the scent said. Familiar. Safe. Just a nightmare like any other, and she could feel Percy sleeping next to her, warm and still.

They could go to Alaska.

They could. They totally could.

Percy rolled over in his sleep, hands pillowed under his head. Annabeth traced Andromeda in the stars. Bound and gagged and sacrificed by her parents.

“Percy?” Her voice came out a whisper. “Percy, do you want to go?”

Percy didn’t stir. She knew she only had to ask and he would wake, but she didn’t want to. Sleep was so hard to come by these days for both of them, and she could not rob him of it, no matter how viciously her throat burned with tears.

What would they do in Alaska? What would they not do in Alaska? The gods’ bidding for one.

They couldn’t get there by plane. Or boat, to be honest. It was okay. They’d drive, make a road trip out of it.

“Annabeth?” Fuck. There was a shifting noise next to her. Fuck. It seemed she had woken him, despite everything. She didn’t turn to look at him. “Hey, Annabeth, you okay?”

“Go back to sleep.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Percy said, and now he was starting to sit up, hair adorably mussed. “Wouldn’t be an easy feat for you either.” True enough. Since Tartarus, once they were awake, they were awake.

“I’m okay,” she said. Hushed, she repeated, “Percy, do you want to go?”

Andromeda had probably screamed. When her parents had told her, she’d probably screamed. Begged. Fought.

Annabeth had never been able to place how the ancient heroes might have looked. She had stared at grainy old pictures in the mythology books, heroes of old rendered in colour, but Chiron had said the pictures were an imperfect likeness, and he had said this sadly. He had said he remembered them in crystal clarity—Achilles’s swift frown, and the sharp glint in Atlanta’s eyes and the sad slope of Heracles’s shoulders and Perseus with his bright smile—but he hadn’t volunteered any more than that. He had told her that it didn’t matter, how they had once looked, because he remembered them well enough in his mind. It was enough.

But Annabeth saw the photos in Chiron’s office, taken in careful focus, marking the end of every summer, meticulous in record. She saw it in his old eyes.

Annabeth had never been able to place how the ancient heroes might have looked. No mortal rendition did them justice.

There was one exception though, an ancient face who Annabeth had been unable to distinguish in her mind from a modern replica—Andromeda. Her face cleaved in sorrow and anguish, affixed on the mast of a monster infested cruise liner. A masthead that screamed through her gag, screamed through centuries.

Princess Andromeda. Let down by the gods, and her parents.

A stifled yawn. “Go where?”

Annabeth waited only a beat. “Alaska.”

It was a long, stilling moment in which Annabeth had thought Percy had fallen asleep, after all. Then—

“You?” Percy asked, lying back down. He blinked blearily at her. “You with the Yankee’s cap? You want to leave New York?”

“I just—“ Annabeth shrugged, a move made complicated by the grass and her lying down. “They can’t find us there.”

“Hm,” Percy said. He tugged her closer to him. His eyes were closed, but he was clearly very awake. He rested his chin on the top of her head, arms around her in a loose embrace. “The gods?”

Annabeth laughed. It sounded a little helpless. “Who else?”

“Alaska’s cold. And far.”

“We’d manage.”

Percy hummed in acknowledgment.

“We’d be leaving behind the gods,” Annabeth said.

“We’d be leaving behind a lot of people.”

“We could take them with us,” Annabeth said. “We could take them all with us. We’d grab Grover, and your Mom, and Paul and your baby sister and just go. We’d leave in the dead of night, but we’d write letters to everyone else, explaining. I know what I’d say to each person already.” Thank you, she’d scribble. I love you. I’m sorry.

I hope you understand. They’d understand. They’d wish they’d got the plan before, for themselves, but they’d say, in resigned commiseration, Well, that’s Annabeth. She’s always got a plan.

“Plane?”

“No. Car. We’d hammer out those Pegasus hoof prints from the Prius and drive. Take the long way.”

“And we’d go to school there?”

“If you want,” Annabeth said. “Or we could just—we could not. We could just live there. Live out the rest of the days. Send postcards to Thalia. It would be boring. Really boring. But we could go.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Percy mumbled into her hair.

She had. She had and she hadn’t. Her brain hadn’t put two and two together until tonight, but the pieces were always there, ripe for taking. Percy had told her about New Rome when he had told her about his quest to save Thanatos, breathless and disbelieving and triumphant, a life for us! Undeniable proof of a life for people like them, a whole life and death in peace. In happiness. With cafes and libraries and a University and a house and friends and old age. But Annabeth had paid attention to the wrong parts of the story, had caught herself on Alaska and land beyond the gods and escape.

In the Cocytus, miserable, she had thought about New Rome. At the Acheron, inconsolable, she had thought of New York. But with every unbearable sip of the Phlegethon she had thought to herself: stop. Stop. Stop.

Alaska was where it would stop.

Would Andromeda have run?

“New York’s a—“ Charnel house. My safe haven. A graveyard. The only land I’ve ever loved. Home and hollow, somehow both at once. “New York’s just a place. We’d be able to be happy anywhere.”

Percy loved New York. With every fibre of his being, he loved it, she knew that. Of course she knew. She loved it just as much. But they had lost so much already, walked across minefields of loss anyway; losses far greater—the absence of innocence, the absence of family, the absence of the weight of the world on your shoulders, the phantom of a beloved knife gripped in your empty hand, the places in your heart where friends who you should have grown up with lingered, because they could no longer linger in the living world. So much they had lost already. Leaving behind a place was nothing in the face of that.

“Do you want to go?” Percy asked.

“Would you come, if I did?”

He’d followed her into hell. Alaska was nothing.

One more loss: a hand in hand, knuckles white with effort. The loss of land against foot, a weak ankle dragging you into hell. The loss of your grip on a ledge, a hand clawing at empty air.

“Yes,” Percy said simply. “I’d come.”

They didn’t need a car. She would run there, if she had to. Dead of night. Hand in hand.

“What do you think you’d be,” Annabeth asked, “if you weren’t a demigod?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Percy said, smiling dopily. “Untraumatized.”

They laughed. It wasn’t a funny joke, but there was a bitter edge to it that dug out a laugh from her.

“What would you want to be, if you weren’t a demigod?” Percy asked.

“I don’t know. An architect itself, maybe?” She didn’t know where her interests started becoming an Athena kid’s interest. She didn’t know how much of it was just her and her life experiences, and how much of it was her mother’s influence. “Or...oh god, I don’t know. Sky diver? Who knows.”

“I can actually see that,” Percy said. “See you, I mean. Skydiving.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You’ve fallen off enough cliffs.”

Annabeth let her head thud gently against his chest, laughing. “Oh, screw you.”

Percy grinned. “Hey, it’s true.”

“And you’d follow me then? As a skydiver?”

“Oh, you betcha. Zeus wouldn’t even be trying to kill me, so there’s like, zero danger.”

“Except diving to your death.”

“Right. Except that.”

Annabeth could feel her chest loosening, Tartarus’s stench lifting. She smiled. “Do you think we’d have met each other?”

“If we weren’t demigods?”

“Mm.”

Percy frowned as he stared up at the sky; he was staring up at Andromeda too. “Well, I hope we would have.”

“Yeah, no duh.”

“I’d never have learnt about constellations otherwise,” Percy said. “Or appreciate how many times a person can get into an argument about gothic revival architecture.”

“It happened twice.”

“Well, it happened in the first place is the point. And I’m not complaining.”

“I’d never have been able to appreciate blue food,” Annabeth said. “No one to debate about orcs with.”

“Uh, no debating either way? It’s usually me just telling you facts, you arguing about them, and then me finding an orc to settle the score. So.”

“Fuck off,” Annabeth said, grinning, “you’ve been wrong about sea creatures before, too, and you’re literally related to most of them.”

“Well, you’re wrong about gothic revival architecture apparently, since you keep fighting about it with people.”

Annabeth shook her head, smiling. Percy laughed and laid his head back down, closing his eyes. They were like that for a while, content in a smiling silence.

“I don’t want to actually go to Alaska,” Annabeth said finally. “I just want to—I want to go to a land beyond the gods.”

Percy’s hand stroked her hair. It was cold, soft. “You had a bad dream.” It was not a question.

She sighed and closed her eyes, bundled against his chest. “It’s a good plan though. Alaska.” It was not an answer.

“Was it Tartarus?” This was not a question either.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” Percy said. “I didn’t—I never wanted this. To be a demigod. I would come with you Annabeth, if you asked.”

“It was Tartarus,” Annabeth said. “It was a bad dream.”

Percy kissed her forehead. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Annabeth could feel tears trail down her cheeks, a burn like the Phlegethon.

“I wish we could go away,” Annabeth said. “I wish—I wish we could escape the gods.” She could not escape her mind. This was the next best thing.

“Tartarus,” Annabeth said. “Tartarus was beyond the gods too. I want to believe that beyond the gods can be good, too.”

Percy was quiet next to her. “We could do it too,” Percy said. “Together.”

It was tempting. There was no guarantee it would work, and there was no guarantee it would end with both of them happy, but it was tempting.

“I’m going to buy a postcard,” Annabeth said. “Of Alaska. Just to remind me that there’s a place. Beyond them.”

“Print one off the net.”

“Hm. That’d be better. Cheaper.”

“Yeah.”

“It was a good plan, though,” Annabeth said, sighing. “Shame it’s never going to happen.”

“You’ll make a new one. A better plan.” Percy smiles at her, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Hey, you’re Annabeth Chase. You’ve always got a plan.”

It was a safety net, freely offered. So many losses, so many absences, in a short life, but Annabeth felt, at once, a thousand different presences: a life saving hold at the bottom of the Siren Sea, a hug in an empty cabin, a kiss in the swirling volcano of their youth, a squeeze of pain and prophecy, the sweet kiss of blue frosting, the pressure of a hand in hers, knuckles white with effort. A warm body tucked into her on a lazy night, the air sweet as strawberries.

“Okay, for now, Plan B,” Annabeth said. “I’ve got it. It’s temporary, but it’ll do.”

“So soon?” Percy looked curious. “What is it?”

Annabeth cupped his face and closed the distance between them. Grass tickled her cheek. “Kiss me.”

[perahn]

Common For the Heartsick

So I was clearing out some old folders this evening and came across the start of this, and decided to just throw an ending on it. Modern!AU.

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

“Ursula or Maleficent?” Harper held up the two bottles of nail polish, one purple with black sparkles and the other black with green and purple glitter.

“Huh?”

That wasn’t like Katy, no matter how focused she was on the movie. The colour of her toenails was serious business. “Katy, what’s up?” he asked.

She wasn’t even watching the screen as the music swelled and the two leads gazed longingly at each other – and usually by that point in the movie she had both a smile and the sniffles. Instead she was staring out the window with an expression similar to the one the actors were wearing, only with a large portion of misery in it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Harper said, and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just so sad,” Katy said softly.

“What is? I know you’re not talking about the movie. They haven’t even had the second-act break-up yet.”

Katy turned away from the window and buried her face in his chest. The muffled sounds might’ve been an answer, if he could’ve understood it. Not for the first time in their friendship, he wondered if hooking up with Ash behind the bleachers had really been worth skipping the day they’d covered ‘Common for Heartsick Half-Elves With a Mouthful of Jacket’. “You know it’s a bit easier to communicate when I can hear you, right?”

Katy popped up her head long enough to say, “Look at her!” before she folded herself back in with something that was at least halfway towards being a sob.

Harper looked. The window had a fairly good view across the street to the Haunted House. There wasn’t any ghost story attached to it as far as Harper had ever heard; Katy just called it that because nobody stayed there very long. Obviously that was due to ghosts and not to the fact that it was in desperate need of demolition. Harper had fifty bucks on the most recent victims staying less than a month; Bren thought they’d make two, but not much longer; Katy had refused to bet.

Katy had probably been watching the current residents, since they were in the front yard. Harper had never met them, but he knew people who knew people who had spoken to them. The small half-orc – Shaizy or something like it – was attempting to wrestle some of the taller weeds into submission, while the bald one – her name sounded like someone making a Ghostbusters reference while gargling – sat on the sagging doorstep frowning over a book. An enormous Great Dane gambolled around them both, wagging its black tail and occasionally entreating one or the other to throw a ball for it to ignore.

They looked content enough, even if one was waging an unwinnable war against well-entrenched and razor-sharp grasses; he must be missing something. “She needs a flamethrower instead of secateurs?” Harper guessed. “She got a grass cut?”

“Not her,” Katy said, and that was a first. Harper didn’t know much, but he was a fucking expert in pining from a distance, and besides Katy had been commenting on the half-orc’s arms basically every minute they were visible. “Cam.”

Harper’s impression of the bald woman had included words like ‘hot’, ‘tattoos’, and ‘always reading’; he wasn’t sure where ‘sad’ came from. Also, he was pretty sure her name wasn’t Cam. “Why is it sad, darling?”

“Because just look, Harper! She’s bald and skinny, she has cancer, and she’s here with someone who is probably her girlfriend in the last months she has to live-“

“Katy.”

“- and they must be poor after spending all their money on cancer treatment because they rented the Haunted House –“

“Katy.”

“- and she only ever wears that horrible burlap sack-“

“Katy!” and finally he got through. “Where did any of that come from?”

She sniffled, wiping her chin with his shirt and leaving mascara smears behind. “I’m not blind, Harper.”

“No,” he said, grabbing the box of tissues he’d had ready for the second-act break-up, “you are beautiful and smart and the delight of my life, but don’t you think that, maybe, you might be jumping to conclusions a little fast?”

She looked up at him with those ridiculously wide eyes, and fuck, her lower lip was wobbling. It was more than a man could be expected to endure.

“Come on,” Harper said, dragging her up from the sofa, “We are going over there and we are settling this.”

“Harperrr-“

“No arguments. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

She didn’t argue, but he did have to drag her by the hand across the road. The dog barked a welcome and rushed up to them, and the girl with the shears said ‘Hi,” and he said “Hi,” back because he wasn’t a barbarian, and the bald woman looked up from her book. Sure, she was on the skinny side, but she didn’t look sick and she still had her eyebrows and eyelashes, so he was probably right, and he was just going to sound stupid and a bit crazy. He was used to that.

“Hi,” Harper said. “Bad question to open with, I know, but the bald head – that’s a fashion statement, right?”

She stared back at him, wary and not quite hostile. “Cultural. Why?”

“See?” He tossed over his shoulder at Katy, who wasn’t listening to him anyway, just staring at her crush. Who had put down the secateurs and was coming up to her, the big dog gambolling madly around them both.

“That’s not an answer,” not-a-cancer-patient said.

“It was just – just an argument with Katy. I’m Harper, by the way.”

“Khemuret,” she said, a little begrudgingly. “Khem.”

“Pretty name. Katy and I live across the road, feel free to come borrow a cup of sugar if you need one. We probably won’t have any, but the company is always nice. Can I ask another really nosy question?”

Katy had dropped his hand in order to scratch the dog’s ears, and honestly Harper just wanted to cheer – in a non-creepy, just looking out for his girl kind of way - because Shaizy was very carefully not looking at Katy, and they were fumbling their way through an introduction.

“You can ask.”

“Well,” Harper said, and sat down next to Khem on the doorstep. She made a face like an offended cat and shifted a few inches away. A miscalculation there. “Sorry, didn’t mean to crowd you. It’s just- see that?” He pointed to where Katy and her half-orc had obviously found themselves into an awkward and tentative little world of their own.

“They are right there,” Khem said, with the slow emphasis of someone who had completely missed the point.

“I mean – look, just before Katy gets too invested, is she wasting her time? I don’t want to see her breaking her heart over someone who’s already attached if I can help it –“ and yeah, that gave him a bit of an inner stab, because part of being an expert in pining was wasting his time and breaking his heart and being completely unable to help it. But he was used to ignoring that inner stab, and it was all scar tissue in there anyway.

Khem was staring at him again, as warm and pleasant as a militant vegan watching someone order steak tartare. “Not as far as I know.”

Harper grinned, wide and stupid and hopeful – he knew that expression when his face did it, mostly at the worst possible time. “Thanks, Khem.”

She shrugged.

“I can see I’m intruding, I’ll leave you to your –“ he glanced at the thick book in her lap – “theoretical physics?”

“Thank you,” Khem said, and turned back to her reading.

He’d deliberately snuck away so he wouldn’t interrupt, but Katy caught him before he opened the front door anyway. In the dim hallway, she was practically glowing as she threw her arms around him and burst into that endearing perennial chatter.

“ – and Shay really likes gardening, I asked her to help me weed our back yard and she said yes and I told her about ordering from Bren’s because our oven is always broken and she said she could fix it, and she does martial arts which is why her arms are so amazing and where she got those scars and she said my eyes were really glittery and the dog is called Twitch and she said Cam was her friend so I think she might be single –“

“Khem seems to think she is,” Harper interjected.

Katy let out a high-pitched sound with no consonants in it and dashed upstairs, apparently to redo her makeup while attempting to sing something that clashed badly against the melancholy theme on the TV. One of the lovers had discovered that the other was actually married and expecting a child, and Harper stared into blue eyes that weren’t – weren’t quite right…

- and switched off the movie. He could wallow in old grief any day, and it’d come hunting him soon enough. Right now, Katy was happy, and soon enough she would need some advice from her brother-dad, and the new neighbours were… interesting.

He hoped, for Katy’s sake, that they’d stay longer than a few months. Even if it cost him fifty dollars.

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 2: At Last

Ch. 1 - 

A long yawn interrupted his reading of the paper in hand, and he tightened his broad body, pressing as deep as possible into the passenger seat. The briefing was bland as usual, same thing every week. A compiled stack of papers that amounted to possible sightings of Bright’s or wand activity, their locations, dates, descriptions he had to skim over in case anything seemed familiar. It was mind numbing, but if it kept him out of the hole for the incident years ago with Tikka, he’d bear it. His mind might collapse in on itself in the process though.

Activity seemed to have kicked up around the outskirts of LA, but there was nothing to be alarmed about if the paperwork was any say indication of it. If there had been, Nick would’ve been sat in a cramped office with MTF, answering the same questions he’d memorized perfectly in order from all the years of interrogations.

He chuffed silently, rolling a peppercorn from his pasta he’d taken for lunch between his canines.

The last few pages were always dedicated to Tikka and the grave importance of her being apprehended, but still, nothing sparked his interest or alerted him, not even the paragraph where there was a supposed sighting in San Diego. He just couldn’t believe she’d wander back to LA after what happened.

Nick folded the papers and stuffed them in the glove compartment. Everything there he’d heard that morning, anyways.

Instead he scrolled through his phone as he took hearty bites of the pasta, mindlessly looking through Facebook videos and news articles- same shit, different day. Nick rarely liked anything on Instagram; he’d only gotten it so Callie could tag him in the long stream of photos she posted, detailing their everyday life and sometimes the more private aspects. Cautious he was about staring down at his lover in some of the revealing photos while working. Popping a boner was dangerous on the job.

He opened another app, observing where they were that day and grinned before flashing over to message Callie.

Its the size of an apple today

The drivers side door yanked open and another officer climbed in, slamming the door behind himself.

“Chill out,” Nick mumbled, taking another bite but leaving the fork between his teeth, reading her reply.

Really cause i feel like i have an eggplant in me

He smirked. Stick my eggplant in you if you want

“They act like I’m fucking contagious or something,” the younger Orc spat, and Nick snorted.

“Get used to it,”

“No respect- not even for a cop,” he went on, unwrapping his sandwich hotly.

“You’re telling me stuff I already know, kid,” Nick exhaled, stifling a chuckle when Callie responded, Only if you bring me home more cheeeese

“When did they stop harassing you?” the rookie asked, looking at Nick with worried brows. Nick’s head leaned back against the headrest, running his tongue over his filed tusks as he thought it over, but in the end, grinning again.

“When you joined,” Nick smiled sarcastically and his young partner looked down to his sandwich dispondantly. “It gets easier when they get used to you,”

“Or when another Orc joins and carries the burden…” Sergey mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich. Nick nodded indifferently. Sergey was quite young compared to when Nick finally made it into the Academy and onto being an officer, but he had a good heart despite being a little skittish and hot headed at times. His tusks had been filed like Nick’s, but he’d been blooded young- something about resuscitating a toddler at a pool, ah, he couldn’t remember. Not like he could gloat about his own blooding. Either way, it meant most Orcs didn’t chastise him like they had Nick, which in turn made their jobs a little easier.

“It’s bullshit,” Sergey chuffed.

"You wanted to join- that’s on you. What’s bullshit is Heig making us work the afternoon before the banquet,” Nick reasoned, returning to the message.

Im getting a costco bag this time. Does pucca need food?

“You’re going?” Sergey asked, a cheekful of sub.

“We have to go,”

“Oh fuck- Dura is going to kill me. I told her we didn’t have to go,” he griped, holding his head.

“Anytime the LAPD is doing something expect to have to go,”

His phone vibrated in his hand again. Nah she’s good. Im off at 4 today

Nick finished the last bite of his food before replying, Okay. Dont forget to take your vitamin

“You’re taking Callie?” Sergey asked, looking over to Nick yawning again and sliding down his seat as he stretched as best he could in the cramped space.

“Wouldn’t go without her,” he told him, his phone face down on his chest.

“Gonna tell people tonight?” the young Orc piped, his ears twitching when Nick side eyed him. Nosey little asshole.

“Not like we could hide it. If anyone says anything to her I might throw a table,” Nick grumbled.

“Even if, it’s none of their business. People delve into others shit for their daily dose of drama and then don’t want to assume any of the responsibility afterwards. Like humans abandoning babies,” Sergey rattled, his accent coming forth a little.

Nick had turned his shoulders in his seat, looking at him a little aghast. “Such depth- is that why Dura puts up with you?”

“It is because I’m the darkest hue of grey she’s ever seen.” he flaunted, earning a scoff from Nick. It was true- Sergey was a very muted color compared to most Orcs that were painted in swirls of green or blue tones.

Nick’s shoulder radio sounded, and the two listened for the call to the accident. Sergey took a couple more heaving bites of his sandwich as Nick responded, instructing him to turn on the lights before siren until they’d pulled onto the street.

↠

His day closed around 2, uneventful, and he liked it that way. Coming home pissed off wasn’t necessarily a bad thing when Callie willingly offered herself up as a sexual ragdoll for him to blow off steam, but being in more delicate condition meant having to withhold some of the roughness she adored. He was left with time to head to Costco before he had to pick her up, which by this time on a Friday, would be packed, and her method of dealing with rude shoppers who bumped into her uncaringly was… hostile, to say the least.

Nick grinned to himself as he palmed the wheel to park the truck. Already so protective.

He wandered aimlessly, up and down the aisles, grabbing this and that, knowing he was forgetting something that he’d only remember once home; it happened every time. He grabbed the massive bag of shredded cheese and moved on with his cart, snatching samples as he passed the small stands. As always, he stopped to look over the books, mostly for himself, but kept an eye out for a new Stephen King novel- yep, there it was. Now Callie would have something to do during her appointments that seemed to drag on and on for hours. But another one caught his eye and he picked it up.

Multi-race Baby Names: 1000+ Choices for Your Little Surprise

Nick scoffed. “Surprise?” he said under his breath. 1000, huh? That was also placed in the cart and purchased.

The drive to the bank was decent. In that neighborhood, people drove angrily, like they were the only ones that mattered on the road. It resulted in him flashing his badge at a particular asshole who kept trying to shove his way in front of Nick when the lanes merged. Nick couldn’t help but laugh a little sarcastically. Years in, and he was over being prim and proper just so people wouldn’t mind the Orc cop.

He parked the truck in front, pulling out his phone to tell her he was waiting.

He thumbed through the book he got for himself, reading the preface as he snacked from a monstrous box of crackers he’d bought; Sci-fi was becoming a new favorite of his.

A soft, carrying whistle caught his attention and he looked up, smiling at the pretty face that tuned the two-note whistle as she walked to the truck, her growing belly poking out from between the smartly pressed jacket she wore over her dress suit.

“Hey baby,” Nick said as she struggled to hoist herself up into the truck, tossing her bag to the floorboard along with her folder packed with paperwork, grunting when she curled over her stomach. “How was work?”

“I’m on the verge of firing Isabel. I’ve never met someone so fucking lazy and sorry for themselves, ugh! And she always attacks people for being more committed than her? She tried to get on me for being branch manager and I was this close-” she basically mashed her thumb and index together, “This close to knocking her on her ass,” she leaned over to give him a quick kiss.

“Don't forget you’re preg-”

“I didn’t work my ass off to feel bad that she can’t manage to make it in 3 of the 6 days she works-” she angrily tied her hair up. “Fuck that,” she yanked the seatbelt over her stomach, arching her back to better settle in the seat and slipping an ankle under her thigh once kicking off a heel. “And I need maternity clothes. I can’t keep squeezing into these shirts,” she huffed, letting her head bounce back against the seat with a hard exhale. “Fuck I’m winded,”

“Little thing getting too big already?” he asked affectionately, backing out of the spot.

“Your dad was right when he said you’d make big babies,” she smirked.

“We could skip the banquet and go shopping,” he tried, flashing a devious grin but only receiving an unamused glare in return.

“I didn’t spend all that money on a dress to let it go to waste. You can’t weasel your way out of the suit,”

“I hate suits,” he grumbled, his hand instinctively moving to her stomach when he pulled up to a busy road he had to turn onto.

“Mhm. Did you get the cheese?”

“And a few other things,” he motioned to the box in the backseat. Her legs bounced in excitement at the newest Stephen King, but she passed it to look over the baby names, also pulling a cheese stick from her purse as she flipped through the pages.

“We should also make a list of names we won’t use,” she commented dryly, and he snorted.

“Like?”

“Bog- Bogdub?” she pronounced slowly, her nose scrunching. “I like Lorn though. Shat? Shat is a name?” she exclaimed.

“Really old name,” he palmed the wheel as they pulled into a drive-thru across the street, lowering his window. “What’ya want?”

“You’re getting takeout?” her brows drew in together.

“There’s only gonna be snacks and drinks at the thing,”

“Oh, okay, eehhmm… 2 five-layered burritos with guac and crema,” she said through the corner of her mouth.

“Better not have fish in it,”

“It’s a Taco Bell, mensito.” she ribbed, his flat look making her giggle.

They drove home with pleasant conversation drifting between them, his hand remaining on her stomach and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the baby that had caused an unexpected bout of nausea that morning, but had subsided in time for her to order her favorite item on the menu.

Once home, he carried their bags and Costco purchases in one hand and kept his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side to plant firm kisses on her temple, Callie pushing half-heartedly against his chest as she laughed against his affections. Pucca was already barking inside, jumping at eye level excitedly once the door had opened.

Both of them took the time to smother her with kisses and silly questions about how her day was, the chubby pitbull wiggling side to side to keep up with the lightning speed of her wagging tail as her parents showered her with love.

Callie only bothered enough to take off her jacket and unbutton her shirt once sat at the table, far too eager to dig into her meal with Pucca’s chin rested on her thigh; she gave her little scraps, baby talking endlessly to the pretty eyed pitbull. Nick had started sitting at an angle in his seat beside her, making room on his lap for her restless feet so she didn’t fidget uncomfortably.

“What time is the thing tonight?”

“Six,” Nick barely got out. She had a brilliant habit of asking him something whenever his mouth was full.

She twisted her wrist to look at her watch. “Doesn’t leave much time to get ready,”

“Don’t rush. As long as we show up it’s fine,”

The final bite of her food washed down her throat with her drink, standing to ball her wrappers and toss them.

“I’m gonna shower real quick.” she called from the kitchen, speed walking as she pulled her dress shirt down her arms, Pucca at her heels.

“Mhm,” unconsciously he hummed around his food, pushing some around with his fork when his eyes flickered up in realization. He sat straight with his neck extended, listening intently from the table; the shower curtain rings scraping across the pole, the water springing from the shower head. Nick started to cover his food and gather his trash, his eyes remaining trained on the entrance to the hallway.

By the time it was all shoved crudely into the takeout bag, he was on his feet, and had heard the shower curtain open and close again.

There was no reason to, but he still tiptoed down the hall as he pulled his shirt forward from his shoulder blades, pushing his face into the cracked door so it opened a little more.

Thinking of how the water streamed down her naked body only provoked his eagerness, which in turn made him a little clumsy in his impatience to push his pants and briefs down and yank his socks off.

“Nick?” she called loudly from the other side of the curtain, and he took the opportunity to poke his head in.

“Yeah?”

She spun with a short screech, her hands hidden in her bubbly, lathered hair.

“What’re you doing?” she started to grin, scratching her scalp as he stepped into the narrow shower, now even more of a tighter fit with a wide shouldered Orc before her.

“I needed a shower too,” he said against her neck, partially squatting to wrap his arms around her middle, her distended stomach right below his pecs. He tried to hide his flinch when the searing water ran over his scalp, and she laughed at the way he tensed and grunted.

He flinched from under it, wincing as he spit some from his mouth. “S’like fire,”

“Only way to get clean,” she smirked, bending back under the water to shake her fingers between her soaked tresses, the raining shampoo following the curves and dips of her body.

Nick felt his eyes heavy, as well as his breathing when he watched how her honey-golden skin shone from the miniscule light coming in. He was already salivating, inhaling deeply to find her scent, but there was too much steam and the smell of her fragrant shampoo around them.

The soft brush of his touch across her nipples shot goosebumps down her sides, her eyes opening to find his burning ambers as he stepped into her space. His thumbs rolling and swiping stirred a soft sigh from Callie and her arms fell around his shoulders loosely when he leaned down to adorn her wet skin with kisses and soft bites, his hands catching the curve of her back when she craned backwards.

His tongue was hotter than the water running over them, his nipping, sharp teeth a pleasant shock every now and then, either around a nipple or biting along the soft sides of her breasts.

“No point in a shower if you’re gonna be dirty,” she murmured when he fisted his hand in her hair after standing straight, a hard kiss to follow.

“Dirty is better than filthy,” he growled, and she smiled when he gripped her bare ass.

“Says you,”

He eyed her, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into her again, but also fuck her until she was blind. Her soft touch grazing up his hardened dick made him grunt, his eyes fluttering when she pumped him.

“Mhm,” she kissed into his jaw, then down his neck, finally resting back on her heels when she reached his chest. “You like it dirty, don’t you?” she questioned seductively, un-needing of an answer; she knew.

Nick shuddered in anticipation as she kissed down his chiseled belly, her hands dragging down his ass and thighs. A soft kiss at his inner hip started a hard tremble in his legs; that was his pressure point she only sometimes took advantage of. Finally she gazed up at him as she took his hard member into her hands, finding his desperate eyes.

It always left his mind a pile of useless muscle when she did this. He’d before questioned inwardly how she’d become so good at the way she took his dick to the back of her throat and rotated her hands so perfectly along his shaft at the same time, but by the time the question arose in him this time, he was already bracing himself against the shower wall, his hips rocking into her hot mouth.

And she encouraged it. She’d pull on his hips when he slowed, her attentive touch winding up his clenching stomach, her eyes keeping his when she’d let him fall from her hot mouth onto her chin- fuck, that thin string of spit made him whimper- before letting him rock back in, his direction the only guide back between her lips.

Nick pressed his face into his arm, exhaling harshly when she squeezed along his shaft. Forget the hot water running down his back, or the drops waterfalling over his shoulders- all he could focus on was the soft scrape of her teeth and the way her tongue shaped to his girth perfectly.

“Fuck, Callie,” he ground out, fighting with every shread of restraint left not to pin her arms above her head and fuck her face.

“Feeling filthy?” she teased, her tongue gliding up along the underside of his dick.

Nick shivered.

She gasped as he lifted her from under her arms in a flash, holding her face to kiss her harshly.

His rigid cock was rested against her stomach, and already her hands were around him again, stroking up to his head where her thumb could swipe over the tip and move the thick beads of precum around.

“Stop,” he breathed heavily, again squatting before her, but to pull up from under her ass until her legs wrapped around him.

Her stomach hadn’t grown big enough to stop this… yet.

A wavering moan fell from him when he merely brushed against her cunt while carefully hooking his arms under her knees, his palms flat against the tile wall.

She was open, and ready, and he didn’t need to smell her to know she’d been prepared for this since he first stepped into the shower. He could see it in the feral glint of her caramel pools, and her mouth hung open, her full lips begging to be kissed.

But Nick liked to take his time.

Despite her pleas, he pushed in agonizingly slow, always groaning loudly for that first slide in.

She kissed him with abandon, her blunt nails pinching every so often as he loved her from tip to base, the deep pumps leaving her limp in his hold.

“Apurate,” she sighed, her tongue lapping against his teasingly. She tasted like the water dripping down their faces, her lips still soft as he stole a few slow pecks.

“Shut your big mouth,” he played, hissing when she bit down on his bottom lip. He snapped his hips forward once, a gasp falling from her wide smile.

“You like my big mouth,”

“Yeah when it’s around my big dick,”

“Oo, getting cocky?” she asked, clinging to him when he fired into her. Callie’s head fell back, her body thrusting up and down against the wall as he fucked her, gazing down at her bouncing breasts. She cursed, and cried, her toes curling on either side of him.

“Keep saying cock,” he groused, kissing her turned jaw.

“Then fuck me harder with that big cock,” she simpered, watching one of his hairless brows rise before her repositioned his feet and fucked her without restraint.

Immediately she locked up, under an assault she couldn’t flee from, but squirming from this would be foolish when he so perfectly caressed her hidden treasure, turning her words to clustered cries and sending her eyes rolling back into her skull.

“Yes-” she choked, heavy hands holding his face. “Fuck me, fuck me just like that,” she near laughed, smiling widely as the bliss started its slow build-up.

He kissed her sparingly, unwanting of those delicious moans to be smothered, stifling his own so he could hear clearly the way she begged in his name. It sounded like a holy prayer, the way it rolled off her tongue; it made him feel like he was the one to be worthy of worship.

“Baby-,” he panted, dropping his face to her neck when his groin area started to tighten. “Baby I’m gonna cum,”

“Not yet,” she begged, “Just a lil’ longer,”

But he continued, entranced completely.

“Nick,” she breathed, and he had enough power in him to stop from thrusting back in, his head hidden inside her smooth pussy. No way he could stay like this for long. He was teetering on the brink, wanting so badly to throw himself over that brilliant edge.

“Rub your clit,” he ordered, and watched, and moaned, fighting the burning urge to fuck her again as she rubbed her swollen clit rapidly.

“Do you like it?” she asked, but his head didn’t lift as he nodded, daring a slow, single pump as she carried on. His arms shook from the power of his hands pressing into the shower wall.

“Do you still wanna fuck me?” she whispered, grinning at the desperation in his face.

“Don’t do that,” he whined, daring another slow pump, pressing tight enough into her that she moved up the wall.

“Fuck me then,” she moaned, her breath fluttering. Nick recognized that. “Fuck me,”

He obeyed, a loud, shuddering moan coming forth as he shifted back into that steady rhythm again.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby,” her voice was peaking, her head hanging forward as the once flawless flicks of her wrist became erratic, and then her hand pulled back altogether. ”Oh there, oh there-”

There was a long moment of her eyes pinched shut and jaw hung before she let go of her long symphony of moans, her hips circling as much as possible as the euphoria stretched across her shaking form.

It only took a few pulses of her pussy around him to finally have him falling into that pool of ecstasy, pressed balls deep into her quivering cunt as he drained in her, thick shots of semen pulsing from his dick again and again.

Where once the water splashing down them had been forgotten, it was now preventing her from holding around his shoulders comfortably, and he at last looked at her, bumping her nose a few times as they both struggled to even their breathing.

“We need to bathe in holy water after that,” she cracked, and he snorted, placing a few good kisses on her cheek before carefully letting her down. It was almost comical the way he popped from her, grunting quietly when his still shrinking dick felt vulnerable without her warmth around him.

“Now I’m too lazy to finish,” she sighed, a hand over her tightened stomach and the other reaching to pump conditioner in her palm, uncaring of the aftermath leaking down the insides of her thighs.

“So I guess you washing my back is out of the question?” he pouted.

“Only if you wash me first,” she played, her long hair held up in a wet pile atop her head.

Callie hadn’t actually expected him to, but when he squeezed a tiny mountains worth of her silky body wash into his palm, she turned, already turning to jelly in his hold as he massaged it all along her body. Across her menacing crow tattoo that adorned her shoulder blades, and down her toned arms to her hands that he cupped in his, wrapping them around herself when he circled her.

She turned her cheek into his kiss, relishing in his sturdy chest against her back and his protective hands holding either side of her stomach.

Now he could smell her- even above the body wash. There was Callie’s vanilla, and the savory essence of pregnancy that reminded him of her blood he’d savored when he first bit her, and now there was him, seasoning her like the final pinch to a perfect dish.

She was all of them- a tailor made perfume just for him.

One hand lingered over her stomach where the other moved around her, holding close what he owed his happiness to. But alarming pride also coarsed through him. Seeing her grow with pregnancy made him animalistic, almost; there was nothing like seeing evidence of what he’d done with his mate literally show before him like that.

“I did this,” he declared softly, fingertips pressing mindfully into her round belly. “I put a baby in you,”

She reached back to hold his opposite cheek, planting a few lingering kisses on the one closest to her. “That’s your baby.”

Pulling on the tux and making sure everything was tucked and buttoned neatly had been easy up to this point. The YouTube tutorial was doing little to help his fat fingers loop and pull the tie into anything that could actually pass as a tie, and he slipped it from around his neck angrily, the fitted fabric of the black tux around his shoulders already bothering him.

“Fuckin’... piece of shit,” he hissed under his breath. “Fuck this,”

He stalked towards their room, pushing Pucca down when she jumped at his thigh. “If you get fur on this your mom will kill me.” She still wagged her butt, whining after him as he walked down the hall. That’s when it hit him; fucking lint rollers! He stomped the rest of the way to the room, pissed at his own inability to remember his entire purchase list when going to the store.

“Can you help me with… this,” he trailed off, rendered speechless.

The carnelian red material of the sheer gown flowed down her body softly like the calm running of water, changing shape only over her stomach that bulged beneath it. It pooled elegantly around her feet, and the thin straps of the shoulder and low cut back showed off the art adorning her body, especially the dark, menacing crow across her shoulder blades. She looked at him curiously as he detailed her long hair pulled into a loose twist, some locks falling around her face and neck, just a glimpse of the silver earrings dangling and the small stars beside her brow ridge.

“How do I look?” she asked, tentatively, her thigh and knee poking from the high cut of the dress.

His mouth opened to utter everything; gorgeous, beautiful, perfect, astounding- but he was left with nothing but his hand on his chest, unable to take his eyes from his ecstatically beautiful lover.

“Lat're ij goddeukuk,” he uttered, finally, but not knowing what he’d said, she looked back to the mirror, her hands running down the curve of her belly and cupping underneath.

“Think people can tell?” she asked.

He grinned, proudly. “People can tell,”

That’s my baby.

She nodded, turning to grab his tie and loop it around his collar. “I’m nervous,” she said softly, her thin fingers manipulating the material expertly.

“You both look beautiful,” he said, and she grinned, her eyes still on the tie. “So good that I can’t imagine how you’d look in a wedding dress,”

“I’m not-”

“Getting married pregnant, I know,” he griped, a little sourly.

Her hands moved to hold his face, stood on her toes and craning her neck for a kiss until he leaned the rest of the way down. He exhaled, holding her sides as her thumbs smoothed his chiseled cheekbones, her kisses soothing away what little disappointment sat on his heart.

“You will one day?” he asked huskily, enveloping her mouth for a deeper caress as his fingers curled into the sheer material of the dress.

“Calista Jakoby is too good of a name to pass up. And that police pension.” she grinned, yelping when he smacked her ass.

With the tie braided artfully and her heels slipped on as she steadied herself against him, she grabbed her clutch and phone as he grabbed the keys, planting a few kisses on Pucca’s head before closing the door behind them.

She half jogged to the truck when the cold of the night pricked her exposed skin, and this time he helped her into her seat, making sure her dress didn’t catch in the door. The heater was cranked once inside, noting the goosebumps already rising on her arms and again they rode with his hand over her stomach.

“Rosie is salty she wasn’t invited,” Callie grinned, flashing the long rants worth of messages from her sister.

“Paramedics aren’t as cool,”

“Oh you’re gonna get on her about that again?”

“If she keeps mocking about seeing me at that doughnut shop, which I was at for you,”

“To be fair that was too good of a joke to pass up on.” Callie simpered, laughing when he squeezed her knee.

Valet took his truck when they arrived, surprisingly complimentary of the LAPD, and Callie kept her clutch against her stomach when Nick offered his elbow, walking up the dazzling stairs carpeted in rich red and stunning gold linings. He felt a little out of place being at such an upper class location but Callie fit right in, like she should’ve always attended sparkling events such as this.

They passed a few familiar officers chatting in the marble lobby, and she almost forgot to keep her chin lifted confidently as they took double takes at her obvious condition.

“That makes me feel like a walking attraction,” she intoned.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, they were obviously looking at me.” he corrected, evoking a giggle.

They boarded the elevator, both looking around at the exquisite space that looked like it belonged in New York amongst the ultra rich, not LA.

She turned, finding one of the walls to be a mirror, and took her phone from her clutch.

“C’mere,” she called, and he stood behind her, posing against her back as she beamed in the photo. There were silly ones; of him holding her up as she craned back, pretending to bite her neck, and there were raunchier ones of her ass pressed into his hips he couldn’t help but laugh at.

“That ones for Instagram.” she chimed, depositing her phone back in her clutch as they made it to the upper floor.

The music boomed through the wide hall they walked through to enter the banquet room, the tables lining the walls littered with fellow officers and their wives or husbands, some with kids dressed elegantly. All had a look to dish to Callie, who was in the small handful of other woman wearing something besides the normal neutral colored gowns, but then they saw the stomach, and their conversations shifted. Nick hadn’t told anyone at work beside Sergey and Ward, so this was the night the news was breaking: the Orc finally knocked her up.

They stood at the entrance, overlooking all the tables and people, the dance floor a little sparse besides Nick’s captain dancing poorly with his band of merry men. She scoffed.

“I’m already over this.” Nick stated, fixing the cuff around his wrist.

“Jakoby!”

They turned to find Sergey walking up to them, a wide smile and also in a fitted tux with his girlfriend close behind.

“Hey kid,” Nick nodded in his direction, greeting Dura quickly.

“Miss Callie, my favorite human,” Sergey said in a silly manner, a little smitten as he hugged her tightly.

“Hi sweetie- hi Dura!” Callie said excitedly, hugging the lean female Orc behind him that was cloaked in a strapless, deep green gown with diamond embroidery beneath the bust and equally dazzling hoops hanging off her pointed ears.

“Oh my god you’re finally showing!” Dura whined lovingly, holding Callie’s sides after she hugged her. “Any kicks yet? This lug won’t tell me anything,” she jabbed her thumb in Sergey’s direction, but he only rolled his ochre eyes.

He wouldn’t let me say a word to anyone,” Sergey directed the blame to Nick.

“Yeah cause that was so difficult for you,” Nick grumbled.

“Y’all Fogteeth need to stop congregating in public like this,” Ward piped in, walking up from behind Nick before giving him the handshake. Their interaction wasn’t as constant since Nick had finished his first year, but they made it a point to still meet up for lunches or when Ward needed help in his yard. “How ya doin’ mamas?” he moved to hug Callie, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Ahh, depends on the day,” she grinned, leaning sideways. “Hi Sherri,” she flashed a dazzling smile, effectively warding off Daryl’s salty wife who didn’t look half bad in her royal blue dress. Hair was a little tacky along with those ridiculous nails, though.

“My goodness, look at this,” Daryl held her sides, patting a couple times. “How long ‘til he gets to meet his uncle?”

“Got about 5 more months,” Nick said, loosening his tie. Callie pulled his hands down, mumbling to stop messing with his suit.

“You know I still don’t understand how you were able to keep quiet about this but I can’t get him to shut up about fuckin’ veggies- just in my ear, all day when we have routes together,” Ward teased, the girls laughing as Nick chuffed loudly.

“You never shut up about your dead ass lawn…” Nick mumbled.

“Cause that shit you suggested still ain’t doing shit-”

“I’ve told you a hundred times-”

“I want a snack,” Callie butted in before they started bickering endlessly.

“Me too- come, tell me all about the little faushnu.” Dura said affectionately, the girls arms linking as they walked back to the tables loaded with sweets.

“Congrats, brother,” Ward clapped Nick on the back, making the Orc somewhat bashful.

“Yeah yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, did you get that briefing from Heig this morning?” He questioned, bumping Nick’s arm.

“For everyone?” Sergey butted in, listening curiously.

“Yeah- is there really another wand floating around?” Nick asked lowly, and Sergey’s eyes widened.

“A wand!?” Sergey exclaimed, and Nick hit his chest with the back of his hand. The young Orcs face tightened, his filed tusks showing momentarily from behind his angry pout.

“Do we really have to get involved in that shit again?”

“I don’t see why we would. What happened was one thing and this is another. I don’t want none of that shit in my business.” Ward explained, head shaking as he searched for Sherri.

“What shit?” Sergey tried again, but the other officers dropped it, leaving the rookie fuming.

A few hours in, and most of the men had removed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, leaving Nick to follow suit promptly. Any longer and he would’ve lost his mind under the restricting fabric. Heig was alongside a few other deputies, all lined up across the stage as the mayor spoke highly of the LAPD, his shadowed eyes only aiding to a sense of lies alongside his smile.

Most watched, but a lot mingled amongst themselves still, uncaring of the announcements that could’ve been done at the station instead of this whole thing.

“Theadora,” Callie tried, scooping ice cream into her tiny spoon. Nick scrunched his nose.

“Elizabeth?” but now Callie shook her head.

“Why do we only ever suggest girl names?”

“I feel like I’d only make girls,” Nick shrugged, sipping his rum and coke. “Most of the firstborn in my family are girls,”

“Mm, maybe. What about Guillermo?”

“Wasn’t that Rosie’s…?”

She shook her head. “Benecio,”

“Ahh. Anyways- something I can pronounce please,”

That unnecessary part of the banquet ended in low applause, but Heig looked like he’d been handed the key to the city, standing under the hot lights and sweating like a hooker in church.

“He didn’t even get a medal or anything,” Nick commented dryly, and Callie looked at him with a knowing smile.

“Like you got? For being the biggest and baddest?” she asked, and he nodded, confidently.

“Damn right. That’s why that shits framed.” he wiggled his brows, smirking when she chuckled with the spoon between her teeth.

The men dispersed from the stage, the dance floor filling again with tipsy couples only embarrassing themselves as they flaunted their supposed dance skills.

Nick’s arm hung off the back of her chair, his fingers tracing designs on her arm when she leaned against him, whispering little nothings and the occasional joke as the minutes ticked by in their own little world. Ward ambled around, butting in and then wandering off again and again until Sherri kept him close, and the same went for Sergey. He was already tipsy by the time he flopped back into a chair beside Nick, asking where Dura was even though she’d been following him around for the past hour.

The seats started to fill up when the music slowed, sending most of the more lively attendees away to the drinks.

“Are you gonna ask me to dance?” Callie asked softly, and he looked down at her, his brow cocking.

“You’re gonna make me go out there?” he asked, and she smiled, nodding. He considered arguing, but he also knew how much she’d missed dancing since instructed by doctors to take it easy. With a defeated sigh, he rose, holding out his hand to help her stand and smooth down her dress. Nick lead her through the tables, thankful that a slower song had started lulling through the speakers; he didn’t have any skills to get down like she was capable of. But after years of watching Callie during recitals and performances, and gazing at her as she spun slow circles in their kitchen only to be dragged over, he knew enough.

With their hands held up, he spun her slowly, bringing forth a dazzling smile as he drew her in. The way he so tenderly ran his hands down her arms to her lower back made her sigh, her own inching up his chest as they fell into a steady, smooth swaying. His forehead bumped hers, catching her molten eyes that sparkled under the lights around them.

“You’ve been practicing?” She asked softly, her thumbs stroking his neck when her hands slid higher over his shoulders.

“Shuffling in a circle isn’t that hard,”

“Say that to my broken toes,” she teased, and he growled at her, only stirring another smile. “I’m joking. You’ve only broken one of my toes,”

“Keep it up and I’ll pass you to someone else,” he smirked, arm moving around her shoulder when she slipped hers around his waist. Callie beamed when he started to purr with their cheeks touching, the soft strokes against her shoulder blade from his wide, rough palm sending shivers down her sides.

“You’d never,”

“Don’t tempt me,”

Their shape was a little funny- her stomach prevented her from pressing flat against him like normal, but it still made him grin, just barely, to himself.

It was like they were dancing with their baby, softly lulling it like Callie talked about doing when she could hold it in her arms.

“If I can hold it in my arms,” she pouted, wiping the gel from her stomach after an ultrasound.

Nick frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Cause this is the fourth time I’ve been pregnant, and I haven’t been able to name or hold any of them.” she told him, silencing any further rebuttle. No matter how grim that was, her words were valid.

His arms drew tighter, giving her a light squeeze. Every pregnancy, she was more disconnected than the last, afraid to become attached. He was already head over heels excited, but he had been the other times, too. It saddened him to see her pass by onesies and various other baby items when they’d go to stores, telling him, ‘we can wait a little longer’.

Let’s see if this one makes it, is what she really meant.

“Do you know how many times I had to stop myself from grabbing a glass of champagne tonight?” she said into his chest, shaking him from darker thoughts.

“If my kid comes out with an ear on their forehead I’m gonna punch you in the throat,” he grumbled, and grunted when she poked his sides.

“I want a day to get drunk after I deliver,” she looked up at him. “I miss our nights at Loco’s,”

“We still have fun without getting drunk,” he mouthed against her jaw, keeping his arms secured around her when she giggled and wiggled.

“We’ll have mommy and daddy days,” she decided, tucking her head back under his chin. He blinked a few times.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard something like that out loud,” he confessed softly, a little flushed. “Never thought of myself as a daddy over just being a parent,”

“You’re my big Orc daddy,”

He scoffed stubbornly, squeezing her. “Shut up,”

The slow song only lasted that one turn. People started calling for upbeat music again and Callie pulled Nick away from the dance floor, mentioning that she didn’t want to risk getting kicked in the gut when one of the white boys inevitably tried to breakdance.

So they all huddled to a table; Ward with Sherri- although she could care less at a table full of Orcs- and Sergey with Dura, all of them teasing and talking and booming with laughter when the drinks came and went quickly, the men throwing them back and some more when Sergey pulled a fat flask from his tux. Nick became quite the chatty cat when he got to drinking, pointing this way and that, speaking of things he normally kept bottled after shitty days or telling Ward in particular how much he liked his mustache.

When the men started slurring and Sergey nearly tripped over an entire chair after saying he didn’t see the entire said chair, the woman gathered their stumbling men, sneaking out of the banquet despite Heig moving to the stage again to make more announcements, drunkenly that was.

At valet, Callie directed Nick to the passenger side, pushing his big body up until she could close the door quickly. Off with her heels and she could drive, again blasting the heater when the harsh chill of the night stung her skin.

“Nick c’mon,” Callie laughed, a hand against his chest to steady his towering form that one arm around his back couldn’t do alone.

“You could’a left me in the truck,” he mumbled, walking, but when he swayed here and there, it was like trying to catch a falling tree.

A string of giggles tumbled from her lips as he mouthed the back of her neck, kissing across her shoulder with his hands against the door and his body shielding hers as she struggled to find the house key, her shoulder drawing into her cheeks every time he tried to get one of her ears.

They both lurched forwards when she managed the door finally, but Nick still had good enough reactions even drunk and caught himself, then her before they both went crashing to the floor. A moment of shock, and then he was laughing, air forcing out between his pursed lips.

“Go, go to bed,” she instructed, letting him wobble his way towards the back of the house, but stopping to give Pucca hugs and kisses. “Go lay down before you fall,” she instructed as she tossed her heels aside. Ugh, much better. She even wiggled her toes into the carpet a bit.

“You go lay down before you-” he mimicked, standing suddenly, walking with determination into the kitchen, throwing open the pantry door with more force than meant. “Found them,” he mumbled with heavy eyes, cradling his bag of Takis as he bumped into the kitchen entrance before heading back on his original path.

She had lock up duty that night- closing windows, double checking doors, arming the alarm system that Nick had had installed a couple years back.

Upon entering the room, she found him with the open bag still in his inner arm, struggling to kick off his shoes and not fall flat on his face with Pucca walking circles around him.

“Get,” she waved Pucca away, then pushed against his chest to get him onto the bed, losing a few Takis along the way. “Stay there,”

“Are you trying to get me in bed?” he asked coyly, lifting his feet as she pulled his shoes off.

“I already have you there- Nick!” she smiled, exclaiming as he kept stealing kisses along her collarbone when she tried to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re so pretty,”

“Hush and stay still,” she ordered, somehow getting his dress shirt off before smacking his thigh to make him turn a little.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he stated matter of factly while pointing to himself with eyes clouded by booze, chewing loudly on the chips.

“That so?” she went along, pulling his slacks down his legs and stepping back as he violently kicked them off across the room.

“Yeah, cause I,” he pointed to his own chest again, “Put that in you,” his finger landed back at her belly.

“Proud of yourself, ain’t ya?” she smiled, pulling her earrings off.

He nodded, a smug smile plastered across his face that only made her eyes roll in amusement. But his amusement puddles when he watched her start to carefully hang his suit up, pressing down small creases.

“Just throw it in the laundry,” he mumbled, glaring hatefully at the handsome suit.

Callie turned, the temper of her eyes dangerous. “Hell no. I picked and paid for this suit- it’s gonna be treated like a member of this household,”

Nick scoffed. “S’not that nice,”

She looked at him blandly. “Wanna pay me back the $300 for it then?”

“Pay you back with some lovin’, c’mere,” he made grabby hands at her, but his reach was smacked away, an exaggerated pout following.

The dress was pulled up from her feet as she padded to the bathroom, eager to take off the make-up she’d painstakingly put on. At least swirling the makeup remover around was enjoyable- she’d often drag the mascara around her eyes to resemble the joker, cackling quietly to herself before rinsing it off. A quick wash, some moisturizer and her eye cream she couldn’t live without later, and she was finally done, but stopped halfway down the hallway to turn back.

Should pee now before I get up and run into something.

Doing that with the dress was a damn chore. Coming back out again, she glanced at the sticky note on the spare room they still needed to clean out and prepare. The corners of her lips kicked up in a smirk.

N + C = baby, the sticky note said. Nick had first stuck the note to a onesie he’d bought the day she’d made it past her first trimester, and despite the teasing nature of the words across the onesie, she couldn’t part with the attached note. It had been on the door since, and realistically, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready to take it down; there had been times she considered framing it. Even after recalling that beaming, cocky smile he gave when presenting the ‘Of course I’m cute, have you seen my dad?’ onesie.

Nick chewed noisily, still sprawled across the bed and offering a hand to pull the zipper of the dress down the soft curve of her spine. Callie swatted at his hand when he pinched her butt, his eyes a little hungrier for something besides Takis when a waft of her scent hit him after the dress fell into a red puddle around her feet and left her only in red lace panties that barely contained the ass she’d gained.

If he thought fucking his scent into her was something that made his ego skyrocket, sticking a baby in her and carrying that child heightened it everyday, boosting his pride to an otherworldly level. On top of the bite that adorned her breast, this would solidify them as mates for life, more than marriage ever would. That being said, it still fascinated Nick that of everyone she could’ve chosen, she loved him, an Orc, and chose to breed with him regardless that they’d have a halfling. She wanted his child.

Nick was lost in admiration before he could realize that she’d been watching him as she rubbed cocoa butter into her stomach, her brows curved in scrutiny. He looked like he was on the verge of crying… but he could just be tremendously sleepy after downing his weight in alcohol.

Her hair fell loose around her shoulders after pulling a loose tank top on, turning with hands upon her hips. “You look sad,”

“I’m in awe,” he elaborated artfully, his hand spinning and a chip between his lips.

“Awe?” her brows perked up, watching him struggle to sit up and reach for her.

“I need t’talk to ‘em,” he murmured, pulling her by the hips.

“About?” She grinned, leaning back into her hands when he pushed her shirt up.

“It’s private,” he mumbled, and she snorted.

“Listen,” he said close to her distended stomach. “You are the greatest- and I mean greatest when I say it in the presence of a literal goddess,” he paused to gaze up sleepily, but she looked away, pink dusting her cheeks. “You, tiny me, are the best thing I’ve ever done,” he proclaimed softer, his wide hand over her protectively. “You made me realize how badly I wanted to be a father,”

Sentiment stirred her heart, listening to Nick declare such love to their unborn child with his forehead rested against her stomach.

“I love you,” he murmured, a kiss lingering on her stomach before he pulled her shirt back down. “I love you,”

Soft strokes from her hands across his head turned his face up to her, and she grinned, holding his cheeks when he stood to kiss her; he tasted like vodka and fire.

“I told you this one would stick,” he said against her mouth.

“Don’t get a big head now,”

“I’m just sayin’, third time's the charm,” he simpered, and she followed him into bed.

Just as Callie had finished propping numerous pillows around herself and grabbing the Firestick, Pucca came bounding up the bed, walking all over Nick in attempts to lay between them.

“Braav-” Nick cursed, pushing her away, but she was still smiley and wiggly, rolling to lather Callie’s face in kisses. “We have to train her to stop that,”

“She just feels left out,” Callie baby talked, smooshing and swirling Pucca’s wide head between her hands as the panting dog moved closer. “My big baby,”

“Not gonna be th’baby anymore,”

“But she’s always gonna be my first! Aren’t you? Aren’t you preciosa? Mi hermosa bebe?” Callie gushed, Pucca’s head twisting back and forth and her floppy ears perked forward.

Nick finally settled, Takis in one hand and phone in the other when he stopped to watch her smother the dog, kisses upon kisses to her furry head, wondering how enamoured she would be with their baby in her arms.

“We can start buying more stuff now y’know,” he carefully suggested.

Callie shrugged, resting her jaw in hand when she perched on her side. The knuckles of his hand rubbed her stomach, peeping from beneath her shirt. “I suppose,”

“You know you’re allowed to enjoy your pregnancy,”

“It’s not that,” half her face scrunched. “I do- I really do. I even try to remind myself when I’m puking that I’d rather be dealing with that than… empty. But I feel like if I become 100% invested it’s all gonna be taken away again,” she explained with a reserved tone.

“Not this time. You’re so far along now,”

“I’m still worried. I always worry.” she said with her eyes keeping his, a hidden fear showing through in her jittering foot.

He didn’t know what to say. There would be no vanquishing the worry until she had it cradled in her arms and against her chest. Nick could offer little words of reassurance. He didn’t know what it was like being afraid of your own body that could betray you after giving life.

“I like Leonardo,” he stated instead, and although her mouth opened to protest, a sense of appeasement filled her, flipping the name again and again in her mind.

“That’s a strong contender,”

“Or Jonaq,”

“Started strong and ended lame.” Her lips flattened into a straight line, and he smacked her hip.

Pucca’s head popped up from behind Callie, a soft growl rumbling, but her tail was wagging fiercely, her pretty eyes trained on Nick.

“Oh what’re gonna do? Huh? You big useless thing?” Nick challenged, sitting up to press his nose to Pucca’s as she continued to growl.

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

“Okay, let’s take a look here,” the ultrasound technician chimed, dragging the probe across her jellied stomach that was just starting to swell outwards. Nick had lost his mind the first time they noticed it. He spent at least 10 minutes taking pictures, even ones where he knelt beside her before the mirror with his cheek against it, smiling proudly.

The screen displayed the fuzzy black and white mess of shapes and blurs, Callie’s head not having yet rested against the examination table as Nick leaned in closer from her other side.

“Got the butt first this time,” the technician chuckled.

When the small definition of a foot and leg came in suddenly, he tensed, the picture moving up past ribs to a clear profile, softening Callie’s tense expression.

The little head bobbed back, along with small arms and legs that fidgeted in the misshapen oval that would be it’s home for the next 28 weeks.

“It’s moving,” Callie grinned, Nick’s head tilting to watch it wiggle around. “I can’t feel anything,”

“Probably won’t till after about 15 weeks,” she told her kindly, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the machine as she measured and took screenshots.

You’re inside me, Callie thought affectionately, her adoration for the black and white fuzz shaping her baby growing every passing second she saw the tiny arms curl close to its face, or a little leg kick outwards.

“Do you wanna know the sex?”

Nick and Callie looked at one another, but he shook his head. “We’re okay with waiting. So far,”

“Do we get pictures?” Callie asked eagerly, wiping down her stomach once the exam had ended.

“Better yet- here’s an entire album.” The technician smiled, handing over a long stream of printed photos displaying profiles, butts, and overall shapes.

“I can’t tell who’s nose it has,” Callie squinted, holding the scan at arms length after pushing her glasses up.

“It's still too squishy,” Nick chuckled.

“Yeah. Should we get one of those 4D ones done?” she asked, and he pulled in his shoulders while parking in his parents' driveway.

“I wanna wait ‘til it’s born to see it. I don’t want something in my head of what I was told it’d look like,” he explained, grabbing the scans so he could look them over again. “Look at those little arms,” he groaned lovingly.

“I guess,” she said, looking them over again when handed back. “I think it has my nose,”

“Maybe it’ll have my elbows.”

She snorted, folding them diligently to place gently back in her purse as they exited the truck.

Dinara was there to answer with warmer hugs for Callie now than Nick, her hands falling to her small stomach as she berated her with questions about her health; how she was feeling, was she tired, had she eaten yet.

Oleg always had open arms ready, almost picking small Callie up off her feet in a hug and holding her face affectionately as he smiled down at her with warm, golden eyes. “You glow like my Dinara did when she was pregnant with Nick.” he’d say.

Nick was bossed around by his mom as she ordered Callie to sit down and put her feet up, directing her son to pour his lover tea. He handed it off sourly, winking at Callie.

His mother and Callie could sit and talk for hours, most of which was gossip from two completely different lifestyles, added in the normal day to day life and shit at work. Nick and Oleg watched TV, bickering over their rival teams before any steady chit chat could find it’s way in until the food finished cooking and they all moved to the table.

She would deny it at first, but when Dinara slopped seconds and thirds onto Callie’s plate, she never pushed it away.

“You give my grandbaby all the food they can eat.” she’d order earnestly, the spiced rice and veggies piled high on Callie’s plate and too good to resist.

“Speaking of,” Nick said around a full cheek. “She hit 12 weeks a couple days ago,”

Dinara gasped, her fork falling into her roasted potatoes. “You did!?”

Nick retrieved the scans from her purse, but they were snatched from his hands by Oleg before he even sat at the table again, which were in turn snatched by Dinara who barely gave him any lean to look at them as she did, blubbering words of amazement.

“Oh I’m so relieved- I’ve bought so many things I’ve wanted to give to you but didn’t want to anger you!” Dinara sobbed, the scans against her chest even with Oleg trying to pry them from her hands. “Oh, beautiful baby,”

“We can start crib shopping now,” Nick said, holding Callie’s thigh, but she only shrugged indifferently, still smiling as she watched Dinara.

“Onesies first?”

The hesitation was still there, even though they’d made it over that mark. But he nodded, and smiled, leaning over to kiss her head before returning to answer the questions his parents laid on them.

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

Oh oh oh here we go 🖤 don't she look the cutest with that bump! and Nick in a suit Y U U U U M

translations: -"apurate": hurry up -"lat're ij goddeukuk": you're a goddess -"faushnu": baby -"braav": brat

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Roll for Initiative

**Art by @thescreechowl**

After a little convincing, Charlie starts up a new tradition in the Men of Letters Bunker. Thursday night Dungeons and Dragons. After playing for an hour, the boys come across a foe that is a little more challenging. Can friendship and sass get them through the carefully made story that Charlie has created, or will they spend ten sessions arguing about if Castiel’s character dumb, or actually pretty creative?

Square Filled: The Bunker

Pairing: DeanxCastiel (ish)

Created for: @spndeanbingo

Rating: T

Tags/Warnings: Nerd Alert! Language, some mild in game violence, fluff, some humor if you think I’m funny. 

Word Count: 3,357

Authors Note:  ALRIGHT Y’ALL! Here it is! This is inspired by a question I got from my good friend, who asked me if Dean ever played DND. I couldn’t stop thinking about it... so this is what I came up with. The most exciting part is that the lovely @thescreechowl did some art for this piece! EEK! Y’all look how stunning this is! Be patient with me, because I’ve never written a straight comedy before. Hope you enjoy :) 

Read on AO3

—————

The sun was low in the sky as the Winchester brothers climb up the hill. Castiel follows behind, keeping up on Deans heels. Injured in a previous battle, Dean holds tightly to his quarterstaff, leaning on it a little more than he should. Sam takes out his map of the area. They hope that once they were over the large hill that they would be able to see their surroundings more clearly. Instead, when they reached the top of the hill they stood face to face with a large, hulking Great Orc. It stared down at the party with large bottom teeth, dripping with thick saliva. “That’s so fucking gross.” Dean cackled, as he took a swig of his beer. “Let me finish.” Charlie hissed, shooting an expression to her friend that sat next to her at the kitchen table in the bunker. “Like I was saying...” The Orc pulled his ax above his head with a scream that was almost unholy. It rages through your bones, like nails on a chalkboard. “What do you do?” She asked eagerly, her palms flat on the table.

“I’m gonna hit it with my staff.” Dean said. “Make an attack roll.” Dean fluttered his eyelashes, adjusted the hood of his black cloak, and dramatically shook his twenty sided dice before letting it go on the table. The group held its breath, to see if Dean could take out the Orc’s kneecap so they could escape. “Aw fuck.” He said, letting his upper body flop on the table in defeat. “Nat one.” 

“You try to bring up your quarterstaff, not considering the fact that you still have an injured leg, and you literally collapse at the Great Orc’s feet. If he were in a laughing mood he would laugh at you, but he isn’t, because he’s an Orc.” Charlie shrugged. “Why is it that I can kill monsters so easily in real life, but in game this fucking piece of plastic can determine my skills?” He picked up the dice, eyeing it with annoyance. “You shouldn’t have put all of your stats in Charisma, Dean.” Sam said, as if it were obvious. Dean turned and glared at his brother. “I was hoping to pick up some hot elf chicks. You’ve gotta have charisma to pick up chicks, Sammy. Not that you’d know.” “I do not understand this game.” Cas huffed. “Okay, nerds. What are you going to do? Focus.” Charlie said, leaning into the table. She was eager to move on with the encounter. “What do I know about Orc’s?” Sam asked, cheerfully. “Do a history check.” Sam rolled the dice gently onto the table before sighing. “Five.” “You know plenty about regular Orc’s but this is a Great Orc, Sam. It’s fucking great. You don’t know squat.” Charlie’s eyes flickered to Castiel. She smiled widely. “What about you, Cas?” Castiel met Charlie’s eyes seriously. “I would like to smite it with my angelic grace.” The group turned their attention to Cas. “Uh, that’s nice, Cas, but your character is a cat so you don’t exactly have that ability.” Cas frowned, looking down, his cat ears slipping a bit at the angle of his head. “I would like to see the rules again.” He complained. “Why did you make your character a cat, Cas? It doesn’t even have any magical abilities.” Sam asked with genuine curiosity.

Cas sat up a little straighter, prepared to argue his case. “Felines have many useful abilities, Sam.” “They just make me sneeze.” Dean complained. “That is useful ability number one! If your enemy is sneezing they are incapacitated and there for, unable to see for a moment. It is the perfect time to strike.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. Cas cleared his throat. “I would like to induce an allergy attack.” “Uh... roll for attack.” Castiel gave the guys a deadpan expression as he shook his dice in his fist before letting it go. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Dean groaned. “That would be a natural twenty.” Cas said flippantly. “Christ.” “Cas rubs up against his leg and he falls into a sneezing fit. His body racked with sneezes.” She eyed Dean. “And since you’re so close to him when he pulls his head back for a huge sneeze, a elastic, wet, green droplet of snot drips down and lands right between your eyes.”

“God this thing is so fucking gross!” Dean complained.

“What are you doing now?” Charlie asked.

“We should run.” Sam nodded. “Easy for you to say! My leg is busted up.” Dean complained, wiping the fake snot off his face. “I can run very fast as a cat.” Castiel said with a grin. “Perhaps you picked the wrong race.” “I think we hurt his feelings.” Sam said, eyeing Cas. “Make a decision, boys!” Charlie urged them on, trying to keep the pace. “Fine, let’s run.” Dean grumbled.

“Make a dex roll, Dean.” Charlie’s eyes narrowed at him.

Dean whispered profanities under his breath and tossed his dice. It rolled and bounced and fell to the ground. Dean leaped out of his chair and got on his hands and knees to view the number. By some grace of God he rolled a nineteen. “Fuck yes! Finally!”

“You manage to hobble away.” Charlie put her hands together.

“Alright, I say we head to the city to see if we can get Dean some medical attention.” Sam turned to his brother and adds, “so try not to die before we get there.”

“Just use a spell to heal me, Sammy. Come on, you have the spell slots.”

“Yeah, no way in Hell, man.” Sam said, dismissively. “I’m not wasting my spell slots to heal you. Being in a group with you means we will definitely be in a fight again soon. We are going to need those spell slots.”

“We’re definitely going to need those spell slots.” Dean mumbled in annoyance.

“Let’s go.” Sam said turning to Charlie. “Okay, we will head to the city.”

Charlie nodded and flipped through a few papers behind her block. She eyed the three men in front of her with a quirked eyebrow. She pushed a red curl out of her eye and smirked. Dean had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

“Dungeons and dragons? You’ve got to be kidding me?” Dean turned to Charlie, with his arms crossed.

“I’m not.” Charlie said, offended. “It’s fun, Dean. You seriously never played as a kid?”

“I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.” He laughed. “Who would I have played with? Sammy?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to say I had a million friends growing up either. Nerds always find a way.”

“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with the dungeons game? Just a bunch of geeks sitting around, not having sex, yeah?”

Charlie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Dean, you’re not that simple. Open up your big gorilla brain, and I think you’ll like what you hear. Imagine this… you’re in a magical land. Lush, green, beautiful. You’re a hero, or a villain, depending on your schtick. You and a group of companions are on a quest, fighting monsters along the way. No one gets hurt, not really, and everything is based on luck and skill. It’s a chess board that you can manipulate. In a world that I create for you. There are swords, and magic. Elves, wizards, dragons…”

Dean raised an eyebrow. He could almost picture it. He’d done nerdy things with Charlie before, they frequently went to Renaissance festivals together, and if he was honest this didn’t seem that different. “So, what, I’m a wizard Charlie?”

Charlie shrugged and tossed a book to Dean. “Or something cooler.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I always appreciate a good Harry Potter reference.”

“You’ve made your way to the city after half a day of walking. Dean you’re really fucking tired, and your leg is aching, at best. The city is a port town, by the shore. All the typical buildings are involved. There’s a blacksmith, a tavern, a few places of worship.”

“Anywhere to get some healing?”

Charlie shrugged and Dean groaned in response. “I guess I’ll go to the tavern and see what I can drum up.”

“I’d also like to go to the tavern to procure a place to sleep tonight.” Sam nodded.

The three looked to Cas, who had been surprisingly quiet since the Orc attack. “I would like to find a home to take me in, since my companions don’t appreciate me.”

“Cas, come on.” Dean groaned. “Just come to the tavern with us.”

“No.”

“What? You want some catnip or something? Don’t be so difficult.”

“I’m not going, Dean.”

“I want to make him come.” He said to Charlie. “He’s a cat, surely I can convince him.”

Charlie shrugged. “Roll an animal handling.”

Dean nodded, feeling like his luck was getting better. He took his dice in his hands and rolled them in his fingers. His eyes never left Castiel’s. They were challenging the angel.

He let the dice go. It rolled onto the table, but Dean’s eyes never left Cas’. “I own you, cat.”

“No, you don’t.” Sam snorted. “You rolled a three.”

“Yeah, you can’t seriously think that you can bag a cat, Dean. It’s not that easy.” Charlie said with a laugh. “Cas, obviously it doesn’t work.”

“I purr.” Cas grinned at Dean and gave him a wink.

“Christ.” Dean rubbed his face. “Can we call a truce?”

“A truce?” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell, why should I do that?”

“Because we are supposed to be a team, man. Me, you, and Sammy.”

Cas tapped his chin and looked at Sam. “I have no problem with Sam.”

“Of course you don’t.”

The angel shrugged. “Maybe I just expect less from him.”

“Rude!” Sam groaned. “I’d like to attempt to pet Cas, to show him that I care.”

“Cas? Are you going to let him pet you?” Charlie asked, eyeing the angel.

Cas narrowed his eyes, like he was really thinking it through. “I will allow it.”

“I’m going to scratch under your chin.”

“I will allow you to carry me, if you wish.”

“Sure, man. I’ll carry you. Want to go to the tavern?”

“If I can get fish there, I will allow you to take me there.”

“The fuck?” Dean complained.

“Sam has a way with felines that you don’t, Dean.” Castiel said flippantly.

“Of fucking course he does.”

“Are you jealous?” Charlie asked, her eyes flickering to Dean.

“Jealous of Sammy? Please. I want to go to the tavern to pick up elf chicks.” He crossed his arms.

Charlie nodded. “After looking around for a bit you locate a tavern.”

“I want a beer.”

“Two silver pieces.” Charlie spouts, in a ridiculous old world accent.

Dean sorts in response and nods. “Yeah, okay. I want to scope for Elf chicks.”

“Roll an investigation.”

“That’s a fifteen.” Dean said proudly, when his dice landed on the table.

“There are a pair of female elves in the corner of the bar.”

“Hell yeah, I’m approaching.”

“Great, pause on that.” Charlie said, turning her attention back to Sam and Castiel. “Alright boys, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?”

“I would like to locate sustenance.” Castiel said simply.

“I want to research local lore, to see if there’s anything with this town.”

“Sam you’re supposed to be playing a character, not just yourself.” Dean complained.

“Yeah, coming from you. You’re in a bar trying to pick up chicks. Where’s the role play there?”

“You make a valid point.” Dean said quietly.

“Sam, can you take me to the tavern for the fish you promised?” Castiel questioned.

“Sure, buddy.” Sam turned to Charlie. “We go into the tavern. I’ll put Cas down so he can check the place out.”

“I’d like to go to the bar to try to purr, and meow until I get food.”

“I’ll allow it.” Charlie shrugged.

“I jump up on the bar and meow at the bartender.”

“Roll a persuasion.”

“That’s an eighteen.”

“Without asking what you need, he hands you a fish that he’d been cooking for another table.” Charlie said with a grin.

“I will eat it.”

“Dean back to you.”

“I want to flirt with the elves.”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, okay. There are two female elves in the corner. What exactly are you doing to flirt?”

“I want to tell a story about the orc fight, where I was a real badass.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “So you want to lie to these poor girls to get them into bed?”

“Basically.”

“Roll performance, with disadvantage.”

“Disadvantage?” Dean complained.

“For being a pig.”

“Fair enough.” Dean rolled his dice twice, and took the lower of the two rolls, which just so happened to be a twenty-two with modifiers.

“You lucky bastard.” Charlie sighed. “The women love your story. They comment on how strong you are and how brave. They’re basically swooning.” She looked almost ill as she described it.

“Excellent.” Dean grinned and cleared his throat. “Ladies, may I escort you both to my room?”

“Oh, roll two persuasions. One for each girl.”

Dean rolled his eyes and rolled. He managed another twenty and a nineteen. “Ladies, let’s go upstairs. I’ll take real good care of you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You are going to let him get away with this, Charlie?”

“It does seem a little unfeminist.” Sam agreed.

“I’m at the mercy of his rolls.” She said, defeated.

“I would like to go to Dean and the females.” Cas said, suddenly.

“Go ahead, Cas. Do your thing.”

“I am going to go up to Deans room and scratch on the door.”

Charlie rolls a dice behind her block. “One of the girls is afraid of the scratching and asks Dean to check it out.”

Dean groaned. “Fine. I’ll check on the door. I open it.”

“I walk right in.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m going to jump on the bed and hiss and swipe at the girls.”

Charlie rolled twice. “They’re screaming.”

“I want to really growl and scare them.” Cas said insistently.

“Ladies! Relax! I’ll get him out of here!” Dean said eagerly, with his hands up in defense.

“Dean is this your pet?” Charlie said in a valley girl voice, twisting her fingers in her curls.

“No, he is most certainly not my pet.”

“Oh my god! So you just let a stray feral cat in here?!” Charlie exclaimed.

“No… that isn’t what I said!”

“I am hissing and actively approaching the girls.” Castiel said with a mischievous grin.

“Roll intimidation!” Charlie said.

Castiel dramatically rolled the dice and let it hit the table. Nat twenty. Sam cheered, rising to his feet. “Fuck yes! Cas what is your luck, dude?”

“The two girls run screaming out of the room.” Charlie said with a grin.

Dean clenched his fists on the table and turned to the angel. “What the fuck, dude?”

“I want to curl up on Deans pillow and go to sleep.”

“The fuck you are.” Dean growled in annoyance. “I’m throwing both pillows on the floor. Now focus on my face. What. The. Flying. Fuck. Was. That. About?!”

Castiel shrugs and takes a drink from his beer, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“No, no, no. We aren’t doing that shit. You’re really so mad that I insulted your character that you’re going to cock block me?”

“I am saving those women.” Cas said dramatically, with his hand on his chest.

“Saving them from what?”

“Disappointment?” Sam snarked, swallowing a laugh.

“I’m not talking to you.” Dean snapped with annoyance. He turned back to the angel. “Seriously.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean, we are on a quest! We have enemies to fight, and you’re worried about bedding women! Your priorities are not right.” Castiel mirrored Dean by crossing his own arms.

“You didn’t seem too concerned with the quest when you were snuggling up to Sam!” Dean stood up, and poked Castiel’s chest.

The angel rose to his feet almost immediately. “Not like you would ever hold me, Dean!”

“You’re a cat, Cas! I’m allergic!”

“You’re not allergic in game!”

The two were standing an inch from each other now. Breathing heavily. Their chests rose and fell. Charlie and Sam sat in intense suspense, watching the two. Charlie gripped her block in front of her, almost hiding, while Sam sat with his mouth hanging loose. Neither Cas or Dean noticed, though, they were in a world of their own. In Deans bedroom, in a Tavern, in a world that Charlie made up.

“Sorry that I want to be authentic!” Dean groaned, putting up his hood from his cape.

“Stop hiding from me, you coward!” Cas said, pushing the hood back down. He grabbed Deans face roughly in his hands, causing Deans green eyes to widen in surprise. Cas wasn’t rough with him. He was known to the the gentle one in the bunker.

“I’m not hiding, Cas.”

“Of course you are.” Castiel’s voice was low as his eyes landed on Dean’s lips, then flickered up to his eyes. “You always have been.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue with the accusation, but he couldn’t bring the words to his lips. He couldn’t say anything real with Cas that close. “God, get rid of these fucking things.” Dean grabbed the fabric cat ears off Castiel’s head and tossed them away. “You idiot.” Dean exhaled, putting a hand on each of Cas’ arms. “You fucking dumbass.”

“Yeah just keep insulting me.” Cas challenged. “It’s safer that way, right?”

“Why don’t you want me hooking up?”

“I don’t like you taking women home after hunts.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Cas hissed. “I want you to be with me after hunts.”

Dean frowned, looking confused. “But I am with you after hunts.”

“Not… not like that.”

It was like a light went off in Deans mind. Of course. It was all so clear, but Cas couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like. Right? He didn’t want him to have sex with women because he… Christ.

“I don’t understand… So you…” Dean began, but before he could finish Castiel crashed into him. His lips pressed to Deans urgently, perhaps just to get him to shut the fuck up.

If that was his intention, boy did it work.

Dean melted against him, pulling Castiel close to him, chest to chest. Cas’ thumbs ran across Deans cheekbone, and he could feel Dean smile against his lips. He pulled away a bit and pressed his forehead to Deans. “Do you understand now?”

Dean was flushed, his cheeks pink. “I don’t know. Think you can explain it again?” A grin grew on his lips, exposing a perfect row of teeth. It was a challenge, one Cas was perfectly willing to meet.

“Fucking finally!” Sam cheered, his fist pumping in the air.

“I uh… think this is a great place to end the session.” Charlie said from behind her block, peeking at the two boys. She felt she was intruding, but she couldn’t hide her huge grin. “Sam, we should… uh… discuss some lore, somewhere else.”

“What?” Sam glanced at Charlie, and then at the two men that were still wrapped in an embrace. “Right, uh, lore… books. Sure. We will be back later.”

Cas and Dean stared at each other. “So if this is always going to happen during this game, I think we may have to let Charlie move in, because I’m going to have to play every day.” Dean said softly.

“Does that mean you’ll hold me, Dean?” Cas asked with a smirk. “Even if I’m a cat?”

“Buddy, I’ll hold you no matter what you are.”

Dean kissed him then. He kissed him like they’d do it a thousand times again, like he was made to kiss Castiel. Perhaps it was under the disguise of the game that cracked Dean open like an egg, or perhaps it was Cas’ jealousy for fictional characters, but it was the start of something. It was the start of everything.

[milf-shizun]

Allowing me more opportunity to be hungry for character lore? Excellent! Vorna: ☀️ 💐 🌼 👀 ❓; Luca: 🌙 💎 👀 ; Althea 🦋📚 👀

Allowing me more opportunity to talk about my dumbass children??? DOUBLE excellent! No seriously, ty, ilysm.

Vorna:

☀️ What makes your OC genuinely happy? A person, an item, their hobby? Where is the place they’re happiest, or most at home? What is the happiest they’ve ever been?

Her family makes her genuinely happy. All she wants is to see Moroven again. As far as hobbies/activities go, she's really into cooking. She knows how to handle rations and she's not opposed to simple foods, but if you give her the opportunity to make a real meal, she's almost too eager.

As of right now, she's the most at home whenever the group stops to make camp. When she was a soldier, they had to do that a lot. And the people she's with right now, while most of them clearly aren't soldiers, they remind her of people she used to know.

The happiest she's ever been, I can't quite share yet. But it was before she left her clan. She had everything she thought she could ever want.

💐 Does your OC like flowers? What are their favourites? Do they keep a garden of some sort? What flowers would they use in a flower crown? (and if you like, research the meanings behind those flowers!)

Ooh, good question. I don't think I've thought of that before. I think that while Vorna is definitely a pretty hardened individual, and she's come to appreciate some of the little things. She's no flower aficionado, but I think she would be really touched by the gesture of someone giving her flowers.

She doesn't keep a garden, but her favorite flower would be a snowdrop. If I were to make a flower crown for her, it would consist of snowdrops, pansies, anemones, gladiolus, and white heather. We love flower symbolism, folks.

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI (or if they don’t have a love interest, their best friend. If you don’t want to do a drabble, describe their first meeting instead!)

Okay, so I started writing for this, but I quickly realized that it was getting WAY too long. But I loved what was going on, and I didn't want to cut it, so I'm gonna keep it and finish it at a later date. But for this ask, I'm gonna try and explain how Dekran and Vorna came to know each other.

Dekran and Vorna actually knew each other as children. They played together with the other children in the village. They even both went to begin training to become soldiers in the same class, but Dekran dropped out after a month. He was really mouthy and sarcastic, and it got him in trouble with authority a lot. It drove Vorna insane, as someone who took her future as a soldier very seriously. So she wasn't too heartbroken to see him leave.

It wasn't until Vorna finished her training and became a member of her troop, the War Pigs, that Dekran popped back up again. He'd become a hunter/trapper and a bard (not like a battle bard, but a bard, he sings really badly). He'd begun trying to get Vorna's attention so he could start courting her, but she just.... REFUSED to give him the time of day because she thought he was a disobedient, immature little twit. But then also he was really funny and sweet to HER. But Vorna is Vorna and so she crushed those feelings under her iron boot. And Dekran didn't push her.

One day, Vorna was training with her friend Bushki, and Bushki was teasing her about Dekran so they could throw Vorna off balance. And it worked. But Dekran was there watching, and Bushki quickly pushed a sword into his hands and was like "oh hey you, you have a go" and he was just like "uH".

And Vorna was like "FINE just to prove that he's a weak lil bitch and I do NOT have ANY positive feelings towards him, I Will Fight Him." And Dekran, bless him, is no soldier. And Vorna laid him out on his ass.

But you see Dekran, having one brain cell when literally under the boot of a punk lady with a greataxe, just smiles dumbly and calls her amazing. That just makes Vorna *windows dial-up sound*.

He kept showing up for sparring practice after that, and Vorna didn't stop him. And the rest is history. Though, fun fact, it was much later during one of these sparring sessions alone, when Vorna pinned him by the chest under her foot, that he once again only had one brain cell and asked her to marry him.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

Oh BOY. I don't even begin to know where to start with this one, aside from just copy-pasting her character description, and that seems very uncreative of me. YOU tell ME how your character sees her, how about THAT? Gotem.

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

Random fact? She loves snow. She would die in snow, if she could. I mean, she wants to die in battle, but preferably a snowy battle. She's also EXCELLENT at making snowmen.

Luca:

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

Luca would give almost anything to know who his parents were. I have NO IDEA what my DM has planned, so the consequences of this wish are currently unknowable to me. But he does wish he knew who his parents were, and had gotten to stay with them instead of being raised by an Orc warband. The only good thing that came from the Orcs was that he met Mafareth.

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

Does "things i've eaten that i probably shouldn't have" count as a collection? Because so far, he's eaten iron bars, giant spider webs, and an unknown number of mysterious mushrooms (one of which made his teeth into a lantern light). He's been eating random shit for most of his life, and he's only planning on eating more random shit in the future.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

I CAN actually give you "Luca the Feral through the eyes of Gnerkle" considering Luca is 6'3" and Gnerkle is like 3" or something, ahsjdkd.

Luca is just a towering hunk of tatted-up, red-skinned muscle with a handlebar mustache and two big ol' bull horns on his head. And he swings a really, really big sword, and stands over Gnerkle like a safety barn whenever demons are about. Which is a lot.

Althea:

🦋 If your OC could change everything (or just something) about their life would they? What would they change? What do they think would happen if they did? What would their loved ones think?

Before going on her adventure, she would've changed everything. She wanted a sign from Oghma so, so badly.

But now, with the campaign over, I think she's happy. She's felt what it was like to have a purpose, to have people need her, to love two people more than herself. And now that she's saved the world, they can do anything they want.

The only thing she wants now, I think, is maybe to start her own library in Oghma's name. She'd be really competitive about it and make it big and full of MORE BOOKS than ANY OTHER temple to Oghma. Aolis would think she's pretentious and probably threaten to burn it down whenever Althea got on his nerves (though I don't think he ever would). Terri wouldn't understand who COULD or WOULD read that much, but if Althea needs her to swing her axe at some monsters in order to get an ancient tome, hell yeah she will.

📚 If your OC was given some kind of forbiddon knowledge, what would they do with it? Would they tell anyone? Use it for evil or good? How would it change their outlook on life, if at all?

Oh, boy, that's all Althea is AFTER is forbidden knowledge. She would curate it for her future library. Probably put it in the restricted section. She wouldn't use it for evil or let it be used for evil in any way, though. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is Althea's creed, but not at the expense of others.

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

She just LOOKS like a nerd, especially to Aolis. Terri sees Althea as tall, bony moon elf with almost no meat on her bones, but to quote Terri's player Rae when Althea cast a level 3 Guiding Bolt with a nat 20 and killed a giant worm, "I just remembered that Althea could seriously fuck someone up if she wanted to".

[internutter]

It's been so long since Kravitz was alive. dead was simple, now he's got his elf husband and half elf son Ango. In a hilarious panic, a dawning moment of " I'm married.. and have a son" he reads some book about how to care for your elves. Hilarity begins here. ( if you don't mind that is, thank you!)

If there was anything Kravitz was certain of, it was two things. He loved Taako with a power beyond his comprehension... and he didn’t want to become his own father. Standing over the sleeping forms of his husband and adopted son just... cemented that into his soul.

He just had very few ideas how to do that. As in, at all. 

Kravitz had been dead for at least two thousand years, and he’d come from a fairly xenophobic culture to begin with. He only had the shakiest knowledge concerning Elves. For two thousand years, he’d only ever met individuals with a life expectancy of only a few more minutes past their introductions.

He hadn’t had to worry about caring for anyone for so long, that he had almost forgotten how to do it at all. Loving Taako was easy. That Elf had made Kravitz do more than feel alive. Taako could talk about what made him happy.

Angus, sweet little half-Elf still scared of speaking his mind... was not that comfortable with making his wants known.

Kravitz decided that he was willing to do anything to help his little family, so he went looking for something to give him more than a little bit of a clue. Which was what had him in one of the greater libraries still existent in Faerun, following the Hunger War.

He found a book, and judged it by the cover, which had How to Care for Elves on there in large, friendly letters. He purchased a copy and immediately portalled back to the home he shared with husband and child and got to studying.

Elves have good reason to be paranoid. Large portions of their history include persecution from other races. Do not allow your Elf to be startled by Humans, Orcs, Dragonborn, Dwarves or Gnomes.

Okay. That explained Taako’s rule of Call First. Kravitz skipped ahead to the cookery section, Popular Elven Comforts. There were some involved recipes in there, true, but the book said Elves had the time to complicate literally everything they did.

The things I do for love...

*

Taako stretched and yawned and smooched his little boy on the forehead. Something delicious was cooking and Taako let his nose lead him to...

Kravitz, with a plethora of scientific-looking equipment, measuring herbs against carob seeds.

It was so adorable that Taako had to watch him for a while. Finally, when Krav stopped to stretch his back and wipe his brow, he said, “What’cha doin’ there, handsome?”

“Um. Showing you I care?” He failed at hiding a thick book under a tea towel. “You already have a secure cote or five and all the safety you could eat, so...” He gestured at some of the completed dishes. “I thought I’d try for some proper Elven nutrition.”

Taako couldn’t not kiss him. Cooking, love, and a certain amount of exertion had made his man nice and warm. His kisses were always sweet. “Babe,” he said, “You know I love you...”

“But...” Kravitz prompted.

“What fucking book were you even reading?” Taako had to giggle. “Half of this shit is festival food, and the other half are jokes we played on the Humanmen, back in the day.” He found the book. “Oh boy.” Flip, flip, flip... “Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy howdy...”

“Everything he knew was wrong?”

“Ninety percent,” said Taako. “That, and I’m literally from a different planet. Most of this don’t even fuckin’ count.”

Angus stumbled into the kitchen, following his nose. “Wow, sir. This is an amazing spread.”

“Everything sweet has been sweetened with honey or maple syrup,” said Kravitz. “I at least knew better than to use sugar.”

Taako still flipped through the pages. “You got a head start on this dude, Bone Daddy.”

Angus had selected something from the ‘joke’ section of the menu. He had half his little mouth full and was busily chewing. “I like this one, sir,” he managed.

“I know five ways to make it much quicker,” said Taako. “I’ll teach you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Dove.”

“For the rest of today, though... I gotta show this book to Lup and Barold.” Of course he had to. They hadn’t had a decent Family Roast sesh in years.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

[cloudcreates]

i saw only a few draws of yanya but i want to know more about him :

kicks the door in WELL my friend ur in LUCK bc i have a LOT of shit abt yanya to talk abt

let’s kick it off with his backstory SHALL WE

so ! yanyas a lil kitsune boi raised in a little village in the outskirts of karnosea on famia, we dont have a name for it yet its not important w/e ANYWAY

he was BORN in a bigger town in central karnosea which i also dont have a name for but its also not important, what IS important is that he was a happy lil gremlin for most of his little babby years until he hit about elementary school where all the other kids’ parents started teaching them to be racist towards orcs and kitsunes and lizardfolk n shit! so they started being little shits towards him. which made him not like being in fox shape around them anymore. or in general.

so when his mums, shiranuit, a kitsune barbarian, and resnerina, a half-orc witch, were like “fuck that shit,” they moved away to that much smaller settlement, made up almost Entirely of rarer races like catfolk and wyvaran, and also orcs and ogres and stuff yea

and things were p alright! yanyas mums love him Very Much ok i love them and i love him and they all love each other. shiranuit works as a weaponsmith, and resnerina works as a luthier. so when u mashed their work together, u got yanya, a skald, or Basically a rage bard, who makes all his weapons and instruments, bc he makes his weapons into instruments, and vice versa.

his first weapon in game was a heavy mace that doubled as a guitar! it was crafted from metal ofc but its body was in the shape of a cow skull bc that shit’s metal. on one side was the guitar all strung up, and on the other he’d flip it around and it’s just Covered in spikes for him to beat the shit out of whatever 8)c

he uses his music to express himself. even with cure and mending magic, destroying things and lashing out and being aggressive all the time doesn’t make him feel good, so he’ll usually just turn to screaming out some sick tunes instead. his music’s very important to him.

moving back to early life however! he moved on through school pretty easy. i mean. not Entirely too easily bc the boy’s dumb as a brick so w/e he just. he didnt flunk out at the very least ok Cs get degrees anyway

and when he was abt.. 16, 17, he met ash!  his first..and Only girly friend who’s also a kitsune, and a gunslinger! between the two of them, she’s kind of.. the ‘brains’ but. even then she’s not like, super smart. it’s just.. not hard to be smarter than yanya w/ that sweet 7 WIS and 10 INT score lmfao. she’s plenty clever tho!

around this time yanya and ash didn’t go to school, they travelled around their local part of karnosea causing a little trouble here and there bc well. they’re of chaotic alignment. however! chaotic good alignment, so they really only gave hell to..racists 8) .. bc fuck em

the thing is though, while yanya had two mums that loved him a lot, ash didn’t. she had one mum that sucked a bunch and constantly berated her, and yanya knew, it was partially why they spent so much time just carting around wildly, having fun, bc yanya knew she deserved better!

as a side note, karnosea is neighboring artorias, which is the Big Capital of famia, where Queen Azaroa has opened a bard college! probably the best and most chattered abt all over the world tbh. you can bet yanya’s heard of it by now, being as musically inclined as he is, and has always sort of dreamed of going there.. but shit, he and his fam ain’t making that kind of money, lmfao

but! it just so happens, as rumors say, there’s a new scholarship surfacing, offered specifically to members of more. rare races, such as kitsunes! yanya can’t lie about his interest being piqued..

but the thing was, from 16 going on 18, he was sort of perfectly happy and content just travelling around like a rascal with ash, because they were best friends!! and having fun!! and without yanya, he thought ash would be all alone with her fuckin mean ass mum!! he didn’t want that, and also that bard college is probably overrated anyway, whatever..

ash’s mum isn’t having any of it, wtf ash is happy??  

the second ash and yanya get back home from whatever little bout of travel they were on, ash’s mum goes on a tirade at ash about how she’s dragging yanya down and holding him back, how she’s not good enough for him, etc.. so ash panics, because she knows he isn’t going to leave her unless she makes him never wanna see her again.

so! that same day, ash tells yanya about. how she’s been cheating on him the whole time. laughs in his face. tells him he should’ve expected it, kitsunes are known for being tricksters, liars after all!

he’s heartbroken.. so he leaves for artorias in a shocked daze probably not a full 12 hr later 

and he gets accepted to the college!

ofc being kinda poor and rough around the edges, it’s not without it’s fair share of. snooty ass rich kids being assholes, which is whatever. turns out tho, some of those rich kids are from karnosea! so because yanyas as subtle as an airhorn, rumors about him not being human spread. guess who gets to deal with racist school peers all over again! yaaaay

it’s not totally bleak, though. at college yanya met jonavahn, neyla, pazzoch, and a bunch of the other rare-race scholarship kids and they all form their own little nestled group of friends :’>

soo because yanya’s fuckin shit at like, learning, he like, does kind of piss poor in all the actual study-centric classes lmfao. but! he’s fantastic at the physical side of things–he excels with playing instruments and melee fighting, because it’s less read-a-book-and-study and more muscle memory and physical training and practice, ofc. he just barely graduated bc getting half amazing grades and half shitty grades only balances out to so much, but dAMMIT HE DID IT

so when he graduates, he goes back home for a little bit. im sure while he was at college, he managed to visit his mums back at karnosea for a little bit on breaks, but. just the idea of going back to karnosea, just knowing that. it’s where ash was. it made it a lot harder in practice than it was in theory for him lmfao.

but being back home, getting to see him mums again! it makes him really happy! because his mums love him a lot !!! and love and support him a shit ton!! they’re so proud! look at their son that graduated from the artorian queen’s bard college! holy shit!!

yanya realizes sometimes that he takes his mums for granted.. they’ve always been there to makes him feel like everything’s ok. and they do a damn good job of it! 

 a fun fact! lershe, my old incompetence quest 1 character, is a half-orc monk–by the end of iq1, he became a lycanthrope (this was in dnd 3.5, so monks could still get infected by lycanthropy), and also a lvl 30 minor deity lmfao

lershe was separated from his dad, who was raising him on his own, at a v young age. at the end of iq1, lershe sought him out, found him again, and found out that he’d started a new family with a new wife! and tbh lershe met his mum in iq1 he could not be happier for his dad lmfao. but they have a daughter! so lershe has a little half-sister! and that little half-sister is resnerina!

because lycanthropes and kitsunes share a sort of similar ability in changing shape ya kno yeah, when yanya was a little kid, lershe was still “alive” as a mortal half-orc (lershe put off accepting that he was an immortal deity for a long time) and. was a big inspiration for yanya, naturally. these kids and people were giving him shit for being able to change shape into something that resembled an animal, but his uncle lershe can do it to, and HE’S a god!! so whatever!!

anyway so iq2 started off by all the characters running into each other in a little town in karnosea and some shit abt a cave off the outskirts of town getting ransacked by mercenaries or smth, idr

a little before then our DM said txeru and yanya were going to enter town together, and aria and karrina were going to enter town together, and we could come up w/ whatever reason why they’d end up together so txeru and yanya met first actually, just outside on town in a little tavern where they. probably got into a little scuffle just bc bar fights are fun. who cares. its fine. 

its ironic bc right now, in game, txeru and yanya are fucking pissed at each other! and its great. the drama is clearing my skin. my crops are prospering. 

basically txeru is a kasatha, an alien race not native to famia, and he’s come to famia trying to hide from two .. sort of alien police that’re after him for all the petty crimes he’s done. thing is, these two Very Specific alien cops are after him because. he kinda. was romantically involved with Both of them, one being his partner in crime and the other being of kasathan royalty–when he was backed into a corner and about to get caught he kind of ditched his partner and left the noble out high and dry so they’re both PISSED at him

they recently made their way to famia and found txeru, and after we TURNED TAIL AND RAN THE FUCK OFF from them, txeru explained his story

having his heart fucking shattered by ash, yanya kinda wasn’t super happy to find out txeru was a heart-shattering asshole himself! 

so he DECKED HIM IN THE FACE and hadn’t spoken a kind word to him in like, a week

NOW they’re talking, it’s just. every word they say to each other is some variant of “fuck you” and atm we’re waiting for a boiling point to hit to see if they’ll kiss and make up or if they’re just gonna have to hate each other! 8) im so excited

meanwhile this entire time, we’re level 10 right now. so half way to the capstone level 20. 

yanya still hasn’t formally revealed that he’s a kitsune to anyone in the group. but! as i said. the boy’s subtle as a brick thrown through a window. he’s slipped up enough times in his human disguise for just about everyone in the party to catch just a little something being off about him, but since most of the party is from artorias, away from the rarer races of karnosea, not everyone knows what a kitsune is

BUT we HAVE met a kitsune in game! madame fouxy (blame my dm for that name), but even then she only shifted from an actual fox shape to anthro fox shape, not to human shape. so they’re still unaware that kitsunes can even do that atm, meaning yanya’s ruse is hanging on by a thread lmfao

he’d just come out and say it bc he’s well aware everyone’s probably seen through him by now, but. it’s suppose to be a secret. knowing that everyone knows doesn’t make him wanna tell it, it makes him wanna convince everyone they’re wrong, even though they’re right, and he doesn’t like lying ,and if everyone’s already figured it out already, then he’s not doing a good job at keeping his own damn secrets, which freaks him out, and… etc

yanya’s favorite colors are red and blue, his favorite food is smoked rabbit, he’s 6′2″ flat on his heels in human shape, but he’s wearing stilettos bc he’s use to toe walking in fox-shape, which usually puts him up to about 6′4″, 6′5″..

he’s got a shit ton of muscle, and he eats a lot to keep up his energy! so he has his fair share of fat w a soft belly. he weighs probably anywhere from 250-300 bc im not good w weights lmfao

he has a total of.. 14 piercings, four on each ear, one on each eyebrow, two on his lips, one on his nose, and one on his tongue, almost all of which he got at the bard college lmfaoo

atm at level 10, he has 5 tails! only one spell-like ability from them, however, which is disguise self. 

he knows how to sew!

he has a fear of mirrors and heights.

it’s less a ‘fear’ and more. he doesn’t like looking at himself in the mirror, practically can’t stand it when he’s in human shape. seeing his human face all he can think is “liar, liar, liar” because that’s not his ‘real’ face. seeing his fox face he’s only reminded how much fewer people would rather see him this way. if he has to, he’ll much prefer looking at his fox face, however.

AND I THINK..THAT MAY JUST COVER IT..if it’s not everything it’s Pretty close, and if i come up w anything new ur probably gonna see me draw it at some point LMFAO

[dungeonsnderp]

Season One: Puzzles, Villains, and Poor, Poor Alber (and also Jarvilli)

What do you mean you haven’t read the plot so far? I used gifs and everything.

Spoiler alert; I’m writing this like 92% because I want to show off my brilliance as a DM and 8% because Dots told me she wanted to know what our plot was like so this is heavily edited and in no real coherent order. So. Good luck.

The Puzzle

Really the only relevant bit here is those weird pieces they kept picking up at each stop on the map. As it turns out  each piece was actually one of a set of tangrams. 

Everyone they’ve met with so far (including the dwarf, Alber, poor guy - more on him later) has been dropping hints that their Arch Nemesis the Evil Planner of this Weird Mind Game Thing is nuts. And very evil. So they roll up to his house and surprise surprise, not only is it a gloomy-ass day and he apparently lives in a mini castle, but he’s got a cool tower and oh yeah the whole thing is built on an ancient burial ground. 

So they scope out the tower first like any rational human being would, and find among other things an interesting scrap of paper.

Thus bolstered by the act of surrender, the flow of battle at last ebbed. Having kept tabs on the seashore it was no surprise to hear that the low tide had laid bare the bodies of the slain, now made rich and stinking by the bright sun.  

Weird, right? But easily forgettable. 

They move on and start scoping out the house/castle. They break in the back, snoop into the first room, and there’s Evil Villain’s mother snoozing in a chair. They try to talk to her, villain himself shows up.

Now Vodal was an interesting one for me. Bottom line is he sold his soul to a deity in return for “eternal life” via vampirism (I share this only because they figured it out already) and enough power to keep around some minions, including the dead, possessed body of his mother, who was killed in a war on those very grounds about 700 years ago. 

Mirasha got to wrestle with the concept of what it means to be an orc, as Vodal’s conversation at her was about reclaiming the glory days of the orcs (he’s an orc himself). 

Eirlys got faced with the concept of having someone you could count on to always be there for you - especially since they’re not gonna die of old age. 

It game them both something to chew on but I had to laugh when Eirlys eventually decided to sacred flame him ;D 

So they start fucking him up, mom gets involved, they end up chopping off a good chunk of his health and he books it for his lair. They barricade mom in the parlor and are faced with the grand puzzle of the hallway.

Remember those tangram pieces they’d been getting for 13 sessions? Oh yeah.

Turns out under the hall rug was a set of floor tiles that their gold pieces just so happened to fit in. And that scrap of paper from the tower? Each bolded word was an anagram for a particular animal on the floor; solve them in exactly the right order and the tiles cascaded down into a staircase shape, letting them into the tunnel under the house. How long they took on it determined how much health Vodal got to recoup in the process.

It’s simple on the surface and didn’t go exactly to plan, but I still like the concept of this puzzle. Next time I need more hints and less handholding though, that was a mistake on my part as DM. Live and learn!

Vodal

I’m also pretty happy with Vodal. I homebrewed him by combining the orc spellcaster with a toned down vampire and got this weird mash of brute force and possession/summoning combat. His focus for the second part of the encounter was pretty simple; get to the alter at the back of his lair and start summoning. He had to preform 5 rounds of successful attempts to request help from his deity...but without chickening out. (Wisdom saves abounded). 

I couldn’t roll for shit and he made four of them in quick succession and then failed something like four turns in a row. It added a certain fateful beauty to the encounter however as they just managed to defeat his summoned minions and get up to wail on him as he completed his last attempt. Some sort of horrible hybrid between gorilla and human the size of an 18 wheeler was starting to push its way between the planes, sporting the same blazing eyes everyone posessed by Vodal had. My players got the last swing in just in time and watched as the portal collapsed but not before Valkek (they found his name later on a number of spellbooks upstairs) got a good look at them. Hopefully he’s stuck to his plane for the foreseeable future, but he did manage to get out I  W I L L  R E M E M B E R so maybe they didn’t get off scott free ;D

The Aftermath

Eirlys picked up a cool new bow to finally have a shot at hitting things. Maybe. Mirasha confirmed Vodal had been a vampire. The house collapsed into a giant sinkhole without Vodal’s magic. All in a day’s work. 

They decided to swing back and check on the two NPCs they’d met along the way. Alber was first - they’d found him bound to a pond inhabited by a baby krakenling a couple session earlier. As it turns out, freed from Vodal’s control he’d finally been allowed to pass on and join his long-dead wife in the afterlife. They gave him a proper burial and it was very moving, props to my players. 

Then it was back to Jarvilli’s house for tea and axe shenanigans. 

Good shit. 

Next Up

Well that wraps up a solid story arc. We made a ton of mistakes (myself most of all) but I learned a lot, built some solid plot hooks for the future and made almost as many good choices as bad. 

We’re heading into Neverwinter next, to visit Stephanie at the Lady Finger Inn and I can’t wait.