#it adds to the surprise when she comes out of the armour

[lambsouvlaki]

Shelter from the Storm - Dangerous

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, mentions of violence, fluff

Word Count: 400

Summary: Jason knows she can defend herself, but she doesn't have to. Not while he's there to catch her.

Masterlist

Jason stood between her and a room full of bodies.

The attic stank of blood and burning rubber. The mercs’ armour wasn’t as sturdy as they must have hoped. 

He holstered his gun and rolled a charred body over with his boot. 

“This one’s dead,” he said. 

“Fireballs do that,” she muttered.

He looked sidelong at her. She stepped gingerly around a body collapsed on the broken table. The concrete walls were riddled with bullets. She ran shaking hands through her messed up hair, and winced as it pulled on the graze at her hairline. 

“You’re very willing to get lethal,” he said. 

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “I have very little choice here. And I won’t be told to pull my punches by someone carrying multiple grenades. Someone who isn’t being actively hunted for profit, I might add.”

He smiled grimly. He picked up her jacket from the floor. One of the mercs had ripped it off her when trying to grab her. Jason put a bullet in that man’s head. 

“I’m not telling you to make nice with your abusers,” he said. He held the jacket out for her, and slid it up her arms as she turned into it. He leaned down to speak in her ear. “When the moment of truth comes, if you can’t put those animals in the ground, I’ll do it for you.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. He didn’t know why she looked surprised. Didn’t she know? He would carve through as many of them as it took to keep her safe. 

“Oh.” The wall that normally lurked in her eyes wasn't there. 

“I can do it,” she said softly. 

“I know. But you don’t have to.” 

He gently adjusted her collar where it was rolled over itself. He didn’t know if she meant that or the fighting. He didn’t know if he did either. 

His knuckles grazed the bare skin of her collarbone.

Her breath hitched. 

He blinked at himself and turned away. 

He pushed one of the blinds aside and looked out into the compound below. He could see them starting to move. 

“They’re more dangerous than they look,” she said.

He glanced back and saw her retying her hair, all business once again. 

“So am I,” he said and drew his sniper rifle. 

[vint-knight]

Epic The Wisdom Saga Ranking:

SO I really loved this saga so here's my ranking and if you guys want to, you can add it your list by rebloging as well!

1: Little Wolf: Just from the start with Antinous being cold and vicious, Aryon killed it as always, I thought it would just be a long fight of Tele vs Antinous until it would end with either Penelope or Athena (perhaps both saving him in the last moment) But I was genuinely surprised to see Athena appear and aid Telemachus, also their dynamic is cute, and the animation, Liam Davidson delivered it with the videogame aspect of it and Luzia coming with the absolute beautiful animation and expressions, especially Telemachus, and Teagan just throws it out of the park here, I really love her voice that she has been doing since the rereleased Troy/Cyclops Saga albums and how it goes from a Tele getting his ass kicked, to Tele getting some aid but still getting beat up, while leaving some bruises to Antinous and how the Little Wolf taunt was more used like a compliment.

2: Love in Paradise: I would have thought this was gonna be like at the bottom (not in terms of bad, but just not quite top tier) first off the Time-Dive by Mircsy was absolute mind-blowing, from Aeolus, to Poseidon which I really liked because of how quick the "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" to Circe, Tiresias, Sirens, Scylla which has a really cool shot! and then ending with Thunder Bringer, then we have Gigi! her animation was amazing as always, we get introduced to Calypso who is played by the wonderful Barbara Wangui! she sounds so fun and playful but I like the general creepy vibes given to Calypso, then the cliff scene this absolutely shocked me then I remembered it was accurate to how Homer's Odysseus felt almost sucidial during his time on Ogygia, the belting Jorge lets out, letting out every single part of Odysseus's anguish before screaming for Athena, absolutely gut-wrenching it almost made me tear up

3: We'll Be Fine: I love this song so much, the absolute feels you can feel from Teagan's Athena, the guilt she feels that she can't even sleep, also noticed some lyrics were changed like "When I'll never left home shores" which I find intriguing, the growing friendship between Tele and Athena is just so wholesome and love the ending with him trying to lean his head on her shoulder then falling on his face lmao

4: Legendary: This was absolutely a great start, MICO as Telemachus was absolutely incredible and very proud of how he portrayed Telemachus, nice that Argos is shown following (sad that he was failing to catch Tele because he's a very old dog who's sick) a perfect song to show how a son wants to live up to his father that he never got to meet, the "Man of The House" callback with the suitors and Antinous being an absolute asshole, "DON'T YOU DARE CALL MY MOTHER A TRAMP" from Tele was delivered so well, showing how much respect and protectiveness he has for his mama.

5: God Games: Honestly I would have thought this was going to be at least at the top 1 or 2 for the list, obviously everyone did great, Brandon as Apollo was amazing, love how nonchalant he seemed, wish his part was a bit more longer (but he is LVL1, so it makes sense in video game terms) Hephaestus was quite good, Jorge's dad did amazing and the fact he's also a builder is very ironic, I was quite fine with his part being short because if the "Odysseus took Achilles's armour that Hephaestus specifically made for Achilles" because EPIC doesn't stay too long on the Trojan War (besides references and callbacks etc etc) Janani K. Jha and Earle Grensham Jr did SO GOOD as Ares and Aphrodite, love the fact that Aphrodite's love domain isn't just romantic or lustful love, it's motherly love as well, then we have POSEY as Hera!, love the disco music part of Hera's music, also Anniflamma's animation was so cute and funny! with Athena awkwardly dancing along with Hera, then we have Zeus's part.... alright first off Luke Holt POPPED OFF on this one, his voice was so intimidating here then in Thunder Saga or Troy Saga, the "Thunder Bringer" being brought back with that deep tone he brought in, but I do have some criticism which is I wish Zeus had more words to say, also did not like how he came off like a sore loser (he can be that in the myths sometimes) But I thought it more off like he was actually ashamed of Athena trying so hard to defend this "man full of shame" which in my opinion makes me think that he also felt shame was gonna be brought upon him for the fact The King of Gods's daughter basically going all this way to free one mortal man, besides that I love the small flashback with Athena and baby Telemachus which shows how determined that she is not only doing this for Odysseus, but for his son, then the end was okay, nice to see Ares was genuinely concerned for her, same for the other gods and it ending with Athena being unconscious (also the red blood is kinda explained as her becoming more human by Gwendy who did the last animation for God Games) still like the song but wished it was more longer

[writeyouin]

Hi :D Can you do a Mirage x a fem reader were the reader has a crush on Mirage but she does not know how to tell him because he is a autobot and she is a human and is nervous of how he will react? (Sorry if this is cringe 😅) (fell free to add whatever you want if you want to :)

Mirage X Reader – A Knight in Metal Plating

A/N – So, this story turned a wee bit angsty. Still, I hope it’s to your liking.

Warnings – Minor attack on reader, which is thwarted by Mirage but does come off somewhat creepy.

Rating – T

New York City was large and somewhere you felt wholly out of your depth. The alleys seemed darker and more dangerous than those in other places, except apparently to the natives who were used to traversing the city quickly via said alleys. The streets were either far too loud and bustling with people, or eerily quiet in a manner that set off warning bells that something sinister might be lurking just out of sight in the shadows. Then, there were the con artists, thugs, and petty thieves who all managed to hide in plain sight.

Fortunately for you, there were also Autobots hiding in plain sight, and they could only be spotted by those who knew what they looked like when disguised as ordinary vehicles. Mirage, one of said Autobots, had taken to waiting outside your workspace so he could drive you home on late nights. He couldn’t understand how you felt unsafe after braving the fight against Galvatron’s forces, but he supported you in your plight anyway, vowing to do whatever he could to make you feel safe.

You smiled when you saw him, walking a little taller and prouder. Mirage was one of the few people who made you happy. He was sweet, kind, funny, and… you were totally in love with him. How could you not be? He had risked his life to save you, Noah, and Elena. Then, you had gone through the shock of witnessing what you believed was his death at the time.

You remembered that day all too well. You were stuck with Noah beneath Mirage’s chassis, and his optics had softened despite how much pain he was in. He didn’t care for his own life. Only of yours and Noah’s as he protected the two of you, breaking his body down to nothing more than spare parts which he gifted to Noah as armour.

After that, you were left in Bumblebee’s care, a final request by Mirage before he briefly shut down.

As far as you were concerned, Mirage was never allowed to scare you like that again, and you had told him so immediately after Noah managed to bring him back online.

You got to the car door and were about to greet Mirage when you heard a voice holler, “Hey baby, how about a ride in a real car.”

You turned shakily around hoping that the voice was addressing someone else, anyone else, even though you and the heckler were the only two people in the parking lot. Sure enough, the man was coming towards you. He looked a lot like Noah’s friend Reek, though he lacked the mischievous manner and kind eyes that Reek possessed.

This man was a stranger, a threat to you and he was suddenly only a few feet away. You backed up against Mirage, the cool steel of his door handle pressing against the small of your back. You felt a light indistinct rumble of his engine. The rumble was a message; he was there for you, and he was angry at the intruder.

The man stopped in front of you, humming appreciatively, “Or we could forget the car and you could ride me.”

“I- I have to go,” You stammered.

Even though Mirage was right there with you, you knew he wasn’t supposed to be seen and you didn’t want him to have to blow his cover for you.

“Go? But we’ve only just met. Where do you have to go that’s so important?”

“I’m- seeing someone.”

“No surprise someone so fine isn’t on the market. But whatever happens here, in this place, that’s just between you and me baby.”

You shivered at the malice in the man’s voice. There was no room for interpretation. Unless you or Mirage acted, he was going to take what he wanted from you.

He reached out to grab you, and you ducked out of the way, almost tripping over, though you managed to recover using Mirage’s front bonnet for support. Your harasser pursued you, but Mirage opened his front door hard, slamming into your assailant.

He grunted and fell to the floor, “What the fuck?!”

You didn’t wait for him to recover as you ran to the driver’s side of the car, getting in hurriedly and pulling the seatbelt over you.

“Want me to run him over?” Mirage asked you, revving his engines.

You shook your head curtly, the idea of any bloodshed making you nauseous.

“I just want to go home,” You whispered.

“Rodger that.”

You heard the screech of wheels as Mirage stayed on the spot, pumping his brakes to build-up the speed he would need for a dramatic take-off.  He opened his passenger door again, hitting your attacker square in the face before leaving. If that guy wanted to harm his human, then he would have to deal with the consequences.

Once safe, Mirage waited a while for you to talk, but it soon became clear that you weren’t planning to.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You shook your head, then realised you weren’t sure whether he could see you when you were inside his vehicle mode. “I- I wasn’t prepared for that… If you weren’t here-”

“I was here (Y/N),” Mirage said supportively.

“But if you weren’t-”

“No, don’t think like that. I’ll always be here for you.”

“You can’t always be where I need you, Mirage. It’s not fair on you. You have a life too.”

Mirage thought about his life before he met you. It was a lot of hiding, and no good conversation since Optimus never wanted him to do anything that drew attention to him or the other Autobots. Essentially, you were his escape from a life with the tight-asses. You gave him someone to talk to, and you laughed at his jokes. You went with him to new places, directing him on where to go, and despite the strange circumstances under which you met, you had never feared him, trusting him intimately in a way he never knew a human could.

Moreover, you had a huge crush on him. He had known for a long time, but for a while, he waited to see if you would make a move. He wanted you to, hoping that he could take the opportunity to brag about how great he was and then, when the moment was perfect, kiss you. Yet, the often-neglected mature part of his processor also held him back, for as enchanting as a relationship with you would be, there was always a chance that he and the others would have to leave Earth at some point; despite the quietness of the previous years, the war still waged on somewhere out there, and the Decepticons were no pushovers.

Suddenly feeling sorry for himself, Mirage made a quick U-Turn, cutting off several now furious drivers who beeped their horns at him and swore out of their windows in equal measure.

Your shoulder slammed hard against the door and you hissed in pain.

“Mirage, what’s going on?” You asked worriedly as you rubbed at the sore spot.

“We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” You asked incredulously. “What do we have to celebrate?”

“The world is still here, we know each other. It’s a nice night, and you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You flushed red like you always did when he complimented you offhandedly. You wanted to take it in your stride but it was difficult to when you knew that was just Mirage’s nature and there was likely no real desire behind his words.

“Okay, now you say something nice about me,” Mirage wheedled.

You couldn’t help smiling at his attempt to coax a compliment from you, “You’re my knight in metal plating.”

“And…?”

“And you’re totally smoking hot,” You laughed.

“And…?”

“And the second-best driver that I’ve ever met.”

“What?” Mirage sputtered. “Second? No way, I’ve got the wheels, the heels, and nobody can beat me in a race.”

“I’ve seen you race Bumblebee and lose. When you beat him around the warehouse, I will concede that you’re the best driver I’ve ever met but until then,” You tsked, “I’m afraid that you’re only second best.”

“I’ll show you second best.” Mirage pumped the accelerator, using his energon boosters to break any speed limit that human cars could set. Only a short while later, you and he were in the middle of nowhere, far outside the city on a relatively unused rural road.

Mirage opened his door for you, transforming immediately afterwards.

“Whew,” He stretched his arm across his chassis, “Alright, so this second-best business has to stop. I’m your hero, your top-notch bot, your número uno hombre.”

“If you say so,” You smiled, setting the pace for a leisurely walk through the woods. Although it was late at night and dark, you felt safer in the small wooded area than you did in the city. Old leaves crunched under your feet and Mirage kept himself to a slow walk so he wouldn’t overtake you.

He was glad to see you relaxing again, and even happier to see that he’d managed to bring your smile back. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he could make you both equally ecstatic. It would be corny, oh man, would it be corny. All he would have to tell you was that he knew how to be your number one, and when you demanded to know how he would kiss you and reply that he was the only one who could take your breath away.

And yet, he couldn’t bear to do so. It was better for you to find mediocrity in your life rather than true happiness if it meant avoiding the difficulties of an inter-species relationship where you would constantly have to worry about the future. Mirage hoped you would see it the same way because there might one day come a time when you confessed your feelings for him, and if you did, he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. He would be yours forever more, and frankly, that terrified him.

Like you had said, he was your Knight in Metal Plating, but wasn’t the irony of knights that they often had to leave their loves when an important quest came along? Mirage didn’t ever want to leave you, but if he ever had to, he feared the tearful goodbye. He had promised to be there for you, but who would be there for him when you inevitably no longer needed him or found someone who you could spend your time with? Someone human moreover.

Frankly, Mirage didn’t know what he wanted as he walked by your side, stealing furtive glances in your direction. He wanted to be yours, yet contrarily for you to stay away from him. He wanted you to be with someone who could love you as you deserve to be loved, but to avoid that kind of spark-ache, he would rather see you alone. He wanted you to tell him how you felt, yet also remain silent. Ultimately, he just wished for you to stay in his life.

When it came to you, Mirage couldn’t make up his mind, but that was the curse of love; it was a fickle mistress of the heart.

[oluka]

Thoughts on Invincible Iron Man #8 and #9

When I read Invincible Iron Man #8, I couldn’t believe my eyes. A reference to Iron Man #182, in my Iron Man comics? More likely than I thought. The fact that the reference was tasteful and also showcased Duggan’s understanding of Tony’s character was the icing on the cake. To sum up the scene: Tony just got hurt very badly by two Stark Sentinels and is half conscious. He reaches out and asks Emma for help. She gets into his mindscape, which we discover is a snowy alley full with empty bottles and sad tags on the walls.

“No way out, safe, hope”. This is the melodrama I want to see in my Iron Man comics. I also loved that Emma didn’t dismiss Tony’s trauma: “It’s real, but it’s not what’s happening right now.” She helps him get out of this flashback/mindspace, and the fight goes on.

There’s this beautiful panel where Tony surrenders his suit to save Emma:

Look at it!! Look at the colours! Look at the lines! The motion!

Anyways. Tony manages to get Emma away from the fight, taunts Feilong to kill him. Then in issue #9, he refuses Steve’s help when he arrives (because he needs to be alone and he wants to protect his friends) and then he meets up with Emma in the sewers, runs back to his workshop to make her a ring to conceal her from Orchis, and comes back to her. He also bandages his own injuries.

He gets down to the sewers again, and gets into an argument with Emma about his and her actions (or lack thereof) against Orchis/Feilong. And then…

Tony has a panic attack. Which I think is the first time, ever, we see this happening explicitly in an Iron Man comic (I’m happy to be proved wrong). He has a panic attack because everything is going to hell and Rhodey is getting hurt in prison and Feilong is trying to kill Rhodey and Tony. Tony is hurting, physically and mentally, and Duggan does not shy away from showing that. I think that Frigeri made an excellent job in drawing Tony so angry and literally foaming at the mouth: he’s not doing well, his emotions are all over the place. He cries (!!) and asks for help, again. I’m really surprised that Tony asks for help twice in as many issues. Is it because he trusts Emma to calm his mind? Is it easier for him to ask her instead of his friends because it’s less personal? Or is he so desperate that there is no other way? I don’t know. Regardless, it’s interesting.

This time, Emma brings him to his happy place:

His happy place, his “idealistic self-image”, is him surrounded by the Iron Man armours. Emma’s comment about there being less unsavoury people and “tramps” than she’d expected pleased my vindicative heart. But more importantly: last issue, we got to see Tony’s worst mindscape, where he falls into when everything is going to hell and he’s dying. And it was him, alone, in the snow, surrounded by his biggest weakness and fear: alcoholism. In this issue, we see his happy place, which is essentially: Iron Man. What Tony loves most about himself is Iron Man, what he hates most is his alcoholism. AAAAAAAA. This is such quintessential Tony. It’s him. I think I haven’t seen such a good characterization in Iron Man comics in a decade. I still barely believe it.

The following panels set up Tony and Emma’s alliance for the upcoming comics. Judging from the solicits for IIM 12 and 13, they’re going to be a team for at least until those issues, and maybe further.

Emma’s ruthlessness and Tony’s genius can make for a deadly combo. They’re not playing around. I hope we will see them shine together. I can’t wait for them to give Feilong and Orchis what they deserve. Also, note the way they phrase their alliance: “To their deaths.” Add to that the way they are framed, both dressed sharply and facing each other like that, and my mind immediately made the connection to wedding vows: “Until death do us part”. Am I reading too much into it, or was this intentional from Duggan and Frigeri? Maybe future wil tell.

To end this long post, here are unrelated thoughts:

1. I love the current trend of Avengers actively helping Mutants fight against Orchis. We have Tony, of course, but also Steve who reformed the Uncanny Avengers to fight against Orchis; Thor just saved a mutant in Immortal Thor #1, we’ve had mentions of Vision, Reed and T’Challa helping on the information side… It’s great. Between AXE Judgment Day and Fall of X, it seems that Marvel writers/editorial have decided to stop pitting the X-men and Avengers against each other. Let’s hope it stays that way. Avengers help everyone, and it’s nice to finally see it even in x-men books. Also, it gives us awesome panels:

2. Tony is his own nemesis confirmed. Thank you, Duggan.

And that’s it! If you’ve read this far, consider telling me in comments or tags what you thought. I might start doing posts like this for every Iron Man comic week.

[thecomfywriter]

Writing Share Tag!

Howdy! I'm pretty sure @wyked-ao3 tagged me in this a bunch, @the-golden-comet did a while back, and just recently, @frostedlemonwriter as well. So thank you for that! If you also tagged me and you want credit for putting this on my radar, lmao let me know and I'll add you to the list of credits. And if you have tagged me in something and I am taking dreadfully long to get to it-- tag me again or dm me! I don't mind, but it may just be buried at the bottom of my notifications.

Regardless, I grant you this unedited scene I literally JUST scribed for my current wip-- Court of Sins (CoS), Chapter VII. The Youngest Fire-Singer. It's the first book of the Light of the Flame Series, in case you're new to my blog and don't know about all my different wips and projects. I'll link my masterpost blog guide underneath the excerpt too for your reference. Without further ado...!

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He launched off the bed, snatching Echoe's raised arm and dragging it behind him as he dashed out of the room. Evan was surprised by how difficult it was to drag Echoe. Her armour was heavy, her muscles taut and impressive, and her stature far too rigid and on guard for Evan to swipe away in a moment of distraction. She was, by posture alone, the perfect soldier. Still, she ran behind him first, then beside him quickly thereafter. As they jogged through the halls, she flashed looks at the observing guards on duty, easing their stance from diligent to relaxed. Her cautionary glowers were the only reason no one stopped the young prince as he skipped, twirled, and frolicked around the halls. When he had run out of breath, Evan slowed down into a stride, placing a hand on her thigh to balance himself and catch his breath. All the while, she peered down, smiling. “Tired so easily, Khos ja?” Echoe asked after five moments had passed and breathing had not become any easier. “I thought you wanted to go to the library to learn how to join the military?” Evan's head snapped up. “How you know that?” “Just because we don't speak all the time, that doesn't mean we are not always listening.” We was Hel'Valha. And Echoe's disclaimer was a clear confession. An admittance, that, despite all of the young prince's loneliness, he was never truly alone. His privacy was never his to covet that his secrets should have been safeguarded by the walls he remained trapped within. - Court of Sins, VII. The Youngest Fire-Singer [Light of the Flame Series, Book One]

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Alrighty! I'll tag the TCW crew per usual LOL. But first, as promised, the links:

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TCW Blog Navigation Guide

PREORDER THRONE OF VENGEANCE

Join the TCW Tag Crew!

TCW Writing Bar Discord -> i may be whoops on tumblr but i am less whoops on discord, so come hither!

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Happy Writing!

TCW Crew:

@lunaeuphternal @the-golden-comet @renasdoodles

@drchenquill @zackprincebooks @wyked-ao3

@toragay-writing @the-letterbox-archives

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@authorcoledipalo @sm-writes-chaos @illarian-rambling

@pexchys @an-indecisive-nerd @thelovelymachinery

[raayllum]

Sorpeli headcanons because I'm head empty except for them at this point

The exact moment Soren's joking flirting goes from annoyance/surprise (20-23), to surprised/flustered (25-28) to fond/exasperated (28 and beyond) featuring Opeli's various Ohs and panics before she settles into her goofy dork

One of the things Opeli has always admired about Soren is, come hell or high water, his armour is always polished and his uniform is always very put together. She can respect cleanliness and propriety at the very least

Soren writing and reading her poetry, with Opeli sometimes offering up notes or comparable passages from her scripture reading

Soren is taller/bigger than she is and Opeli likes it more than she's willing to admit

Opeli stealing/wearing his cloaks and tunics, and Soren trying (and failing) to also wear hers, although she gets a matching formal tunic made with similar colours to her cleric robes for him that he adores!!

Washing and combing out each other's hair, especially since because it's longer Opeli's is more prone to tangles

On that note, Soren teasing her about the gray/white strands in her hair because she's older, but also making sure to always add how attractive he finds it

Soren calling her "Peli" and "Eli" as endearments when they're alone / being cute

Opeli tutting and worrying, helping to bandage his wounds the first time he gets seriously injured around her and he just grins roguishly. "You were worried?" "Don't be daft, of course I was worried, I-I..." Composes herself. "I'm glad you're alright."

Opeli always praying for his safe return and accidentally making too much tea whenever he's away because they're so used to having some together

Soren hardly ever praying, except for Claudia in the years she's out in the wilderness, and then again for Opeli a year into their marriage when she's pregnant / going into labour

Soren always kissing the spot on her brow where her circlet used to rest, especially on mornings where he gets up before her

Despite it not usually being this way, their favourite season is winter because they get to sleep in and cuddle in the mornings and keep each other warm

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 6 | Words: 3k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar’eon was wearing his armour. Realistically, Astarion knew why. His own armour had been destroyed in the battle, and could not be mended. Even if Astarion offered to sew it back together, he could not reweave magic into it. It had been a good armour to wear while it lasted.

Now, he wore Astarion’s old armour. Wyll had been able to use a bit of magic to make it fit, but even then, it clung to his body. On the large man, the armour looked almost regal, despite it being a standard gambeson of quilted cloth. Good for catching blows, but unbearably sweaty. It’s why Astarion had slipped himself into some more comfortable armour the moment he was given the chance.

Astarion couldn’t help but stare at him as he spoke to Zevlor, smiling softly at the older man and bowing his head as if to discredit his thanks. Gods, did he just refuse coin for their efforts?

Their time in the city would be so much fun when they were broke!

Astarion rolled his eyes. The conversation with Halsin had been stiff, but Tar’eon had relented and offered for him to come to their camp that evening. To discuss where they may be able to help each other in future on their way to Moonrise.

Tar’eon laughed at the mention of a party, but Zevlor insisted, and Tar’eon could not refuse the older man. It must be a cultural thing, because the tiefling seemed to have an inherent respect for the older man, indulging in his request to crash through their camp for a night.

Or perhaps he was just trying to ease his guilt for killing one of the tieflings under the mans charge, not that anyone had mentioned her disappearance yet...

Zevlor made sure to praise him and Shadowheart as they passed by as well, head bowed in respect to the pair who followed their leader. Wyll had reluctantly refused to come. Karlach requested to stay back too, looking guilty despite her previous excitement. It seemed she still felt bad over Wyll’s new appearance, blaming herself to a degree. Astarion thought the horns were quite becoming of him. Maybe he was just gaining a taste for that kind of look.

Lae’zel had little interest in talking to the tieflings. Astarion couldn’t wait to inform her of the party. He was sure she’d love that. With the other three at camp, it was just the three of them. Shadowheart, Tar’eon, and himself. The original trio, he’d like to add, and the most reliable of the lot.

Astarion leaned back against a hill of rock, hiding in the shade. He enjoyed the sun, but today was much hotter than it had been the last two weeks.

Huh. Had two weeks passed already? Well, it was closer to a week and a half, but…yes. He’d been travelling with these weirdos for almost two weeks now. Hells. They had done so much already too...And there was only more to come, it seemed. They still had to talk to Ethel about getting her help, if she could help them at all. Then there was the business of Moonrise, a mention of the Underdark…

He was sure they’d figure it out. Hopefully before the tadpole got the best of them.

Astarion's gaze fell to the gaggle of children Tar'eon knelt before, his eyes soft as Mol reluctantly admitted he wasn't so bad, Doni giving grunts that weren't really comprehensible. He seemed happy to listen though, allowing the boy to converse in his own way and nodding along.

"You're welcome." Tar'eon chuckled, and Doni gave a wide smile, accepting a ruffling of the hair between his horns. Astarion quirked a brow. There was no way he was distinguishing his conversation. Perhaps he will simply guessing?

"You really did it. You saved us from the goblins!" Mirkon ran over from where he was previously putting his sticky fingers into a burrow, clinging to the mans shoulders in a sudden hug. Tar'eon stumbled slightly, looking surprised by Mirkon's enthusiasm.

"I...yes. I suppose we did. Hello again, Mirkon." Tar'eon smiled softly, eyes full of fondness as he rested a hand on the boys head of curls, scratching his claws delicately against Mirkon's scalp, holding him close.

"I knew you'd save us. I mean, after all that help with the harpies we slayed together..."

"We all know you almost got yourself killed, Mirkon." Mattias rolled her eyes with a smirk as the other children laughed, Mirkon turning a few shades redder, if possible.

Tar'eon chuckled and stood with flourish, scooping the child up onto his shoulder. Mirkon gave a cry of surprise, holding onto the arm that was holding him there securely, as well as a horn. Tar'eon tilted his head up at the boy.

"All heroes start their journey somewhere. No first battle is ever as grand as the legendary ones you eventually stumble upon. Though, I would save future adventuring for when you're a bit older, hm?" Astarion found himself smiling without realising as Mirkon nodded quickly.

"One day, can we go on an adventure together, mister?"

Tar'eon laughed, warm and rumbling deep in his chest as he nodded, conceding to the child's request.

"Come find me when you're older, and we'll slay a dragon together."

"A dragon!" Mirkon's eyes sparkled as Tar'eon placed him back onto his feet.

"A dragon sounds legendary, does it not? They'll sing and write our grand tale for all edges of the Sword Coast to hear."

Mol scoffed, "He'll get himself eaten, knowing him."

"Maybe he would now. But I see great things ahead for all of you. Especially you, Mol." Tar'eon knelt to one knee before her and pulled out a pair of gloves from his pack. Her good eye widened.

"Now, I am not one to promote thievery, but...I'm entrusting you to keep yourself and the other kids safe on your journey. And when all of this is over...perhaps we'll meet again in Baldurs Gate. I hope to see all of you again, in future."

"You- you're just giving these to me? What's the price?" Mol asked, distrustful of the kindness. Astarion's huffed softly, amused. She had no idea that this was just who Tar'eon was. An endless well of kindness.

"No price. Well. No. You'll pay me in a smile, the next time we meet." He decided. Mol scoffed and grinned, putting the gloves on quickly, like she thought someone might take them from her. She laced them tight and showed them off to the others. They only just fit on her small arms, if a touch too large around her knuckles.

"Look! They're magic! We'll rob Baldurs Gate blind and live lavishly!" She laughed and the kids all ooo'd and ahh'd in wonder, inspecting the gloves.

Tar'eon smiled as he stood, dusting his knees off and turning to leave. But a small hand snatched the tail of his armour.

"Mister 'Ar'eon?" Mirkon looked up at the tiefling with something akin to shyness. "Did you...did you like the story I wrote you?"

Astarion saw the regret in his eyes, even as the man smiled.

"I did. You have quite the future in writing, I think. Maybe instead of fighting dragons, you could write about heroes who do. Bards fill the world with hope, as much as heroes do."

"Is that why you're a bard and a hero, mister?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember why I became a bard. I don't really consider myself a hero either, I'm just...trying to do whats right. That's all any of us can do. But, one day, I'd love to play a song inspired by one of your many stories. I think it would be an honour."

What a sap. He was promising too much to a child who could die any day now on the tieflings journey ahead. Who was to say he'd even make it out of this journey alive anyway? Next time the boy saw him, he might have tentacles for a mouth, demanding the boys brain to devour.

"Then I'll write many, many stories for you, mister Ar'eon! Starting with your glorious battle against the goblins!" Mirkon promised with fervour as Mattias called his name. "I better go and finish packing now. I heard there's a party tonight, is it true?"

"Indeed. But I'm not sure it'll be a party suited to ones as young as yourself. Instead, focus on getting some rest. There's a long journey ahead of you all, Mirkon."

"Aw...I'll try. But it's hard to sleep when everyone else is having fun!"

Astarion chuckled.

"Indeed it is." He agreed and stepped out of the shade. He waved the child off. "Go on. Our dear leader is quite the important man and has many more to talk to."

Mirkon looked a little put out, but Mattias yelled his name again and he finally disembarked, giving Tar'eon a wave goodbye. Tar'eon waved back, eyes trailing after the boy.

"You really are too nice to them. You gave away something that could have helped us, to children who wouldn't even know how to make proper use of it."

"No. I gave it to Mol. She may be a child...but she has the same goal I do. To keep her friends safe. If I can help her do so in any way, I will." Tar'eon adjusted the sleeve of his armour. The sun must be getting to even him. The armour he wore wasn't very breathable, so he must be sweating up a storm. The tiefling wiped his brow.

"Mol is resourceful. Smart too. I wish she were a little more trusting but...I suppose it doesn't hurt to be a little distrustful, given all that has happened to her and her people."

Tar'eon turned to Astarion and smirked.

"And we both know you don't need magic to get past any lock or pocket. You're more than adequate with your hands, Astarion."

Astarion's mouth opened, ready to retort, but found nothing to respond with, taken off guard as the tiefling walked away with a swaying tail, taking up conversation with Lia and helping her with some heavy lifting.

Astarion sucked on his teeth, tonguing at his fangs. Oh, he really wanted to bite him now for that little sneak attack. There was no way that was not a tease, that little smirk he just gave him...

"Cat got your tongue?" Shadowheart mused from beside him, looking more than pleased to seem him speechless for once.

"Oh shut up, or I'll put that Selunite statue we found where the sun don't shine, princess." Shadowheart wrinkled her nose at the image.

"Touchy." She left to speak to the merchant before they left, and Astarion lounged in the shade the rest of the day, watching Tar'eon converse and help the tieflings haul their rations into wheelbarrows.

At some point, Tar'eon disappeared during Astarion doze, not really sleeping, but enjoying the warm air of the afternoon with his eyes closed. When he noticed Tar'eon was gone though, he decided to take a leisure wander to find him. He got a hint from a druid that Tar'eon had spoke to the dark skinned druid; Raven, was that his name? No, that's what he turned into.

It didn't matter. Astarion didn't care to learn the names of half of the people at the grove. When he went down the stairs of the druids quarters, he found the area empty of druids for once.

...Well. If no one was there...

Astarion began looting the place, only picking out things that sparkled or gave a gleam of magic. Anything that would be useful, or would go for a pretty penny. His shoulders jumped when he heard stone against stone further in, following the sound deeper into the enclave. He peeked around the corner, using his stealth to remain a secret. Was it Nettie?

His brows jumped upwards, shoulders relaxing.

Tar'eon. Oh. Good, that saved him a search. Had he come down here to escape the heat?

Astarion looked at his hands, eyes sparkling. He found more goodies. The little thief! He knew he had some promise. Using the druids distraction in helping tieflings packing as an excuse to loot their grove, what genius. They really were two sides of the same coin. He was about to make himself known when Tar'eon huffed and dropped his pack, stuffing the potions he found away and dropping the weapon.

He practically tore the armour off his body, his undershirt soaked. Tar'eon slipped that off too, his toned body gleaming with sweat.

Astarion watched with little shame, not even bothering to hide as he leaned against the doorway, eyes ravaging the other man as Tar'eon finally got to removing his bandages, his back lined with pink, thick scars now, but the healing potions had done its work. The pink scars looked like they were already beginning to fade into something lighter.

He didn't usually make a habit of being a peeping tom, but...some people were just too good looking to not stare at when given the opportunity. Tar'eon would surely notice him any moment now, and he could laugh it off like he was just looking to poke fun at the tiefling.

Tar'eon groaned as he stretched, hands on the back of his neck as if to hold it in place as he cracked his back, his tail giving a little side to side flick of pleasure at the release of tension. He dropped his hands and cracked his neck next, side to side, fisting his hands and letting the knuckles pop.

Huh. There was a lot of tension in that big body, it seemed. Astarion bit his lip as he imagined sinking his teeth into that thick, damp neck. He really was appealing like this. He could smell him from across the room, and it shouldn't have enticed him as much as it did, the idea of licking the sweat drop travelling down his spine.

But it was a little tempting. Just a little. Astarion liked to think he had more dignity than he did. Higher standards.

Tar'eon pulled out a robe he'd left on top of his pack, slipping into it with a soft sigh.

"Cold resistance...Hopefully that'll come in hand in the Underdark." Tar'eon murmured to himself, and Astarion laughed. The large man jumped, his tail whipping wildly into a defensive arch he only saw in battle as he turned around to look at him, half crouched. The vampire had his head tipped back, finding Tar'eon little private time quite amusing.

"So this is where you ran off to? Stealing from the druids while you can?" Astarion near giggled at Tar'eons blush, the tiefling righting himself.

"I'll have you know that this was technically a gift from Halsin and Rath. I did not steal it." He insisted. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Oh, the whole time." Astarion purred. "Quite the show, if I'm honest. Do you always do that little...tail wag, when you feel good?" He gestured to his tail with a smirk, thick at the base of his spine and slimming to the end where it was spiked with a single barb, much like Karlach's.

Tar'eons tail curled around the mans leg like it could feel Astarion's leer, the tiefling himself giving a soft huff.

"I...I have limited control over it." He admitted. "I know some can use it as a weapon, but mine is...for all intended purposes, used for balance."

"My balance is impeccable without a tail, darling. We can admit it, between ourselves. It's absolutely used in the bedroom, isn't it?"

Tar'eon baulked, eyes wide at the very suggestion.

"I- you know what? Sure. If that's what you want to think, think away." Tar'eon shook his head and grabbed his things, passing the new weapon to Astarion. "I found this. I thought you'd like it, but if it's not your thing, give it to one of the others."

"Why thank you." Astarion took it with an appreciative hum, storing it in his pack, along with his stolen goods. "How thoughtful. A new tool to maim with. You know me so well."

"You do know I can read sarcasm, don't you?"

"I never would have guessed." Tar'eon rolled his eyes but smiled at Astarion's frivolous manner of speech anyway.

"Come on." Astarion quirked a brow but followed after the man. He'd stolen most of the good stuff anyway.

"So..." He continued with a hum, just to annoy the man. "If it's not a sex thing, what is it for? And do not tell me balance, we both know that's a lie."

"They are for balance." Tar'eon insisted, opening the stone door for Astarion who refused to exit, fixing the man with a stare that screamed he didn't believe his lie, or his half-truth. The tiefling finally relented with a small flush high on his cheeks.

"They...do play a small part in courtship, I suppose."

"That's it? You're not barbing each others arseholes for your own sick pleasure?" Astarion was almost disappointed.

Tar'eon barked a laugh at the crudeness of his words, shaking his head, his pointed canines on display.

"It's more about what a tail says about the individual, than the use of it. I think humans have a similar phrase...it's hard to translate our version from the Infernal language." He admitted, and Astarion waited, wanting desperately to hear this saying about tails.

"I think humans say something about...foot size? In reference to their..." Tar'eon looked a little embarrassed to continue, but Astarion knew immediately what he was referencing to.

"Oh Gods! If it's as big as your tail, then I feel bad for your mother." Hells, if it was that big, he was going to be the one on top, thank you. "Or, I'd feel bad for her if that's the dicking she was used to. Depends on which one of your parents was the human."

"I...I'm not sure if I have a human parent, if I'm honest." Tar'eon looked a little disgusted at the idea of his theoretical parents doing such things to conceive him.

"Hm, true. Half-orc perhaps?" Astarion offered, gesturing to his large body.

"Lets just stick with tiefling for now, okay?"

"Aye aye, you handsome devil." He winked and finally stepped out into the sunlight once more, soaking it up, Tar'eon a few steps behind him. "...Is it really that big? That seems a bit...unrealistic, to just, carry all that around in your trousers."

Tar'eon gave an amused smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"I don't think you need to know, actually. It's not of any concern to you."

Tar'eon took the lead once more as they went up the stairs, tail giving a small flick, the barb just barely avoiding Astarion's thigh. The vampire glared up at the tiefling who only smiled, looking as innocent as ever.

"Do keep up. We have a party to prepare for."

[sixofcrowsfandom]

wesper and helnik child fanfic (pt 2 to the previous one at the cooperom)

"lina! do you have everything? we have to leave soon"! Nina shouted up the stairs to the little 4 year old.

"I'm coming Momma"! her smol voice answered back.

a few moments later, Lina came trotting down the stairs, her toy moo in hand.

"do you need help tying your shoes"? Nina asked.

"no thanks Momma, daddy teached me how" Lina replied as she bent down to tie her laces.

"Oh? ok then", Nina said with a small twinge on her heartstrings. it was only yesterday that she found out she was pregnant with her, and now here that little girl was tying her own laces.

"Ok, I'm ready momma", lina said.

"Ok, my little bean, lets go to uncle Wy and Jes's" she said as they walked out the door.

"Jesper! Milo! get down here! Lina and Nina will be here any minute! we don't have anymore time to work on whatever project you started"! Wylan shouted from the kitchen.

"Just about done"! Milo said back.

the last time they two trouble makers met up, it had been a week ago at waffle day, and the two had made plans for thier toys. Milo told the little girl that her would make moo a cool suit for him to where, and thats what he did.

"alright Milo, we have to get downstairs before your dad gets angry at us. is the surprise done"? jesper asked

"ok, papa. i just have to add one more thing". milo said as he went under his bed.

"boy, what are you getting under your bed"? jesper asked

"it's this sparkly thing i got when i want to town with dad", the little boy said as he held up a jar of blue glitter.

"and what, dare i ask, are you going to do with a jar of glitter"? jesper asked

"i'm going to put a bunch of it on moo's suit. lina said blue was her favourite colour".

"well thats nice"! jesper said as they both heard a knock on the door.

"BOYS"! they heard Wylan shout from the stairs"

"coming"! jesper shouted back

"but i have to put the glitter on"! milo complained.

"ok, you do that while i greet our guests", jesper said as he left the room

"nina! and hello there my little firecracker", wylan greeted the two and proceeded to give lina a hug.

"uncle wy, where's milo"? lina asked

"oh, he's upstairs in his room", wylan said.

"ok!" she said all excited. then the little girl began to race up the stairs, fell, then got up and kept running.

"milo! i'm here"! she said as she opened up his door.

"hey lina! moo's suit is ready, and i also finished bits's fire breathing piece", milo told her as he pulled out the sparkly blue armour suit fitted for a small stuffed wolf.

Lina gasped, an snatched the armour out his hands

"milo, it's shiny! and blue my favourite colour. thank you thank you THANK YOU"! she said as she ran and give him a hug.

milo grunted due to the force of impact the girl ran into him, but he was happy he made a little girl smile. and then for the better part of two hours, they played with bits and moo, moo being the brave night, and bits being the scary dragon.

[aro-ortega]

Top 9 People You Want to Get to Know Better

i was tagged by @glitchy-npc and also @autumnfangirler on my main (@/arcane-lock) thank yall for thinking of me !

i will tag ! @villainsidestep @swordsandspectacles @disastersteps and @groan-taire ! (sorry if any of yall have done this already, ive been mostly offline today)

favourite colour: yellow !

currently reading: just started reading harrow the ninth with my partner in our book club ! i really liked gideon, i have no idea what to expect from this book (its my partners 5th time rereading it) but im looking forward to reading more

last song: i've been mostly listening to my sidestep playlist recently, including as i type this so last song is - EDIT. I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONG. IT'S 'BABY NO MORE' BY ANJIMILE

last series: does series mean show ? i have been watching house and big brother with my maman ! this is my first time watching house but she's seen it all before, i like it but it can be too gory/graphic for me

sweet, savory, or spicy?: sweet ! i love sweets i have a big sweet tooth

currently working on: so many things ! im working on three fhr art pieces rn and also need to start a ref/sketch of heartbreaks armour from the front, and ive also been working on outlining a couple fics and i started writing a small thing just for fun and to explore writing in second person. ill put the things i worked on today under the read more

vanya + ric making out at rangers hq

"hi! what are you doing here?" 

"i came to see you," you say honestly. you don't have much free time these days, but when you have a spare handful of hours between one task and the next, and there's nothing pressing or immediate, or nothing else that can really be done in that time -- ocassionally, you indulge. and these days, more often than not, you want to spend that time with ricardo.

the very least you can do for him is be honest with your feelings for him - you want to see him, no ulterior motives.

he smiles and you try to return it - it feels off, and by the expression on ortega's face it looks it too.

but ricardo doesn't ask if you're okay. he's been doing that less and less altely. probably just as tired of hearing your lies as you are of telling them.

"not just to see me, i hope," he says with a flirty wink.

"well," you say, drawing closer to him. you put your hands on his shoulders; his come to your hips. "that tends to lead to the rest."

deja vu?

ortega blinks.

then, he smirks and grips just a little harder, pulling you closer to him.

"i have to say, i'm surprised," he says. "i didn't think you would be so comfortable with public displays of affection."

you shrug. your hands move from his shoulders to his neck, his jaw, his cheeks.

"i want to kiss you," you say. it's easy to be honest with this - why does the rest feel impossible? "if someone see's, i'm willing to pay that price."

[evokersapprentice]

TPK

After the previous posts about the mismatch between higher level Wizards and their martial colleagues, I wonder just how great the disparity is. How many Fighters would it take? Is there any number who could take down a Level 20 Wiz, or are we just omnipotent at that stage?

So here's a thought experiment. I'm a Level 9 Wizard. My party is made up of a Fighter, Rogue and Druid at the same level. But are we at the same level? If it came to it, could I fend them off? Have we reached the tipping point where Wizards take over, or am I still coming into my true power?

Set up

I do think that the Wizard still has the higher ceiling, even now. If I have time to prepare, the fight's all mine. If we can start from range, it's probably mine. If I can choose an interesting arena, it could be mine.

The only scenario where I'm seriously worried is if we start in melee range, in a sudden surprise combat, in an empty room. That gives me nothing to work with, beyond what I bring to the table myself, and means I'm within slashing distance.

Survive

The first round is make-or-break. I only have 54 HP, and three assailants could kill me before I have the chance to move. I have to survive to get to my first turn, and there's no guarantee that the initiative roll will land kindly.

I'll give myself Mage Armour as a given, because I always cast it in the morning when I wake up, so there's no special preparation required. That means I have, with Shield, an in practice AC of 20.

The Fighter attacks twice, and each swing has +9 to hit. That means he'll hit me about once per turn on average (45% chance of hitting each time). Each hit does 1d8+5, so an average of 9.5 per hit, and by extension per turn. If both attacks hit (about a 20% chance), he'll do an average of 19 HP damage, and a maximum of 26.

My Rogue also attacks twice (Bracer of Flying Daggers), but for less damage: 1d4+5 per hit, so an average of 7.5 damage per turn with the same modifiers. If he hits on either (likely to be the case), he gets to add 17.5 sneak attack damage if the Fighter is also standing next to me.

That means I'm taking an average of 34.5 damage from these martial characters. I should have a decent chance of surviving them, unless I'm especially unlucky: even if they both roll initiative ahead of me, and even if all four of their attacks hit, I would only be taking an average of 51.5 damage unless they also beat the odds on the attack roll.

The Druid is the mystery factor. If she decides to use her usual first-round tactic of casting an area control spell, that's probably fine by me. Summoning beasts could be a problem, if they're the wrong sort. Wolves, for example, would bite through my AC with their pack tactics. Advantage means a 44% change of hitting, so an average of 3 damage per round - multiply that by eight (or even sixteen) wolves, and I'm gone.

But this is conditional on her rolling initiative ahead of me and the wolves then rolling an initiative between the two of us, which is more maths than I care to do but significantly lowers the probability. If I roll an average 10, she both needs to beat me (50% chance) and then have them fall between the two of us (i.e. a total 12.5% chance if she rolls an average 15). That means the actual expected damage from sixteen wolves, adjusted for probability, is... 6 HP.

If we apply a similar Initiative modifier to the Fighter and Rogue (they have slightly better DEX than me, so the modifier is a more generous 70%), their likely damage also drops to 24.15 HP combined. This isn't including crit damage for maths reasons, but that would only move the needle by one or two HP.

If my numbers are right, that means it's more likely than not that I survive. Not if they all beat me to the draw (unless they struggle with the following rolls), but that's by no means a foregone conclusion. I'm playing with fire, but the odds are actually in my favour.

Escape

Once it's my turn, I'm away - literally. The priority has to be getting out of melee range.

There are a few ways to do that. I always have Thunder Step prepared, which would give 120ft of movement per turn with my walking speed. Even the Rogue, dashing twice and with the Mobile feat, can only do 105ft per turn (35ft thrice). The Fighter is easily left behind. I can only do it seven times, but that's plenty to get far away from my martial friends.

I'm not too worried about parting shots. The Rogue's daggers are less accurate over 30ft away (if he decides to attack rather than dashing), so with disadvantage he's only hitting 25% of the time, for xHP damage of 3.75, with no sneak attack, and I'd then be gone the next time.

Unfortunately, the Druid has ways to keep up. Wildshaping into a Giant Eagle would allow a 60ft flying speed (something Freedom of the Winds would also grant), matching my 120ft with a dash and without relying on finite spell slots. I can also get there via Polymorph (once out of opportunity attack range), but then we're just flying away together.

Dimension Door would be a cleaner solution: 500ft in any direction, not caught by opportunity attacks or any entangling the Druid may have decided to try. Here the Druid has the option of Tree Stride for the same distance, but I'm okay as long as she doesn't know where I'm headed (or I jump away from any trees!).

Hide and seek

With a Druid in the party, I can run, but it's harder to hide.

Getting away from the Rogue and Fighter would be easy, but a Druid makes this more of a challenge. Locate Creature will allow them to Tree Stride close to me, until I can cross a large river or change shape. Even then, spells like Scrying and Divination can help to track me down.

They can also get to me. Whilst I can escape the other two by flying or crossing a large body of water or walking through cave walls, the Druid can pretty much always follow. She also has Dispel Magic, which makes magical protection like Tiny Hut fairly worthless.

But she can't take the others with her, and I would back myself to hit harder in a one-on-one. Following me alone would be risky. If I'm on my last vapours of health, fine, try to keep me on the run. But otherwise, she may not want to isolate herself.

If I'm in a decent shape, I only need to break initiative (or buy a few turns of preparation) to be ready to fight. This is the 'start from range' scenario. I can get Blink, Mirror Image, and a concentration spell like Animate Objects running. This means that I'm suddenly extremely hard to hit (a 50% chance goes to something like 6%, 8.75%, and 12.5% on the first three hits), and ready to do significant damage of my own.

We can return to our pack of sixteen wolves as an example (although fifth level slots are gone if she did use this earlier, or needed Tree Stride to catch me). There's no initiative get-out in a straight slugging match where everyone will get a chance to have their turn, and she could have conjured them in advance. But the expected damage of 49 HP (sixteen wolves at 3.05 each, effectively seven of them hitting) decreases to about 14 HP (there's a 50% chance I'm not even there, and even if I am then three of the seven will hit my duplicates).

In response, my own pack of ten Animated Objects can attack with +8 to hit. That means about seven get past the Druid's 15 AC, dealing an average of 45.5 HP damage. Even Barkskin only gets her to 16 AC (42.25 HP). Stoneskin would help, but we could both play at that game, at the cost of our own concentration attack - and if we're just doing magical damage, I can Fireball harder than she can.

If I'm not in decent shape, I keep running until I am. Get a healing potion. Take a short rest here and there whilst she searches for me. She needs to sleep for eight hours a night - I, an elf, only need to meditate for four. If it's a waiting game, I can run for longer than she can.

Regroup

In this case, once I've made my escape - this may be immediate, if the Druid doesn't come after me alone, or loses track of me and can't find me again, or if she does and I deal with her separately - I have the chance to ready myself for the real fight.

This is the 'time to prepare' scenario.

The above medley of Blink, Mirror Image and Animate Objects takes three turns to set up, and then I'd back myself to beat the Rogue and Fighter both. I can hit them both with with a Fireball (xHP of 21.7 for the Fighter and 19.6 for the Rogue) and the objects can do 35.75 damage against 18 AC to finish the Rogue off, then concentrate fire on the Fighter. All from 150ft away - so I could finish them before they get in sword range.

If it's all three of them at once, I probably need more firepower. Luckily, that's something that wizardry can provide. With enough time to set up, Animate Dead can be abused to create an army of skeletons. It would only take 22 of them to kill the Druid with shortbows from 80ft away. I can turn up with forty-odd to be safe.

But the best thing about this plan is that, if the tide of battle doesn't turn my way, I can just repeat step two and regroup for another go. I get as many do-overs as I want until the average dice rolls start to behave - but I only need them to go my way once.

[obsidiinium]

Chapter 5: One Endless Darkness

Part 3

———

They make their way towards the Cloaktower. As they walk, the streets are quiet. Posters plastered up across every flat vertical surface mention the three day mourning period for Lord Neverember. The citizens that brave the streets are sombre, dressed in black and keeping their voices low. Melancholy music echoes over the wind.

The gates of the Cloaktower are open, revealing a intricately manicured garden lining a pathway that winds towards the tower. The gate is flanked by two guards, lightly armoured and holdng staves to attention - a gnome and a half orc. Lilli takes the lead, pulling her soulders back and raising her chin. Upon their arrival the two guards step forwards.

“Halt! What is your business at the Cloaktower?”

”We have information regarding magical disturbances and artefacts that we think might be of interest to the Many-Starred Cloaks.” Lilli states. The two guards look at each other and nod.

“One moment please.” The gnome guard touches their head, bowing it just a little.

“Someone will be out with you shortly. Please wait here.”

A long few minutes drag by before finally, a flash of teleportation magic ripples out and someone steps through the gate, appearing from nowhere.

“Ooh, cool portal.” Lilli mutters. The someone is a human man, in his 60s, bald, dark skin, and cloaked in a robe that has a pattern of space and stars lining the inside. He clasps his hands and huffs.

“How can the Many-Starred Cloak help you? Magic disturbances? Artefacts? Come on. Speak. I don’t have all day.” Lilli glances at the guards before continuing.

“We found a portal guarded by monsters inside the old asylum in lower Neverwinter. We both nearly dies escaping. We also found this-” and she hold up the arcane focus. The wizard glances at it nonchalantly.

“What were you doing in the old asylum? Isn’t that condemned?”

”We were investigating the people turning up feebleminded on the streets. Our hunting led us there. this gem - or focus, whatever it is - nearly melted my brain when I grabbed hold of it.” Zythraul adds.

“Melted your.. Ugh. Let me just have a look.” He waves his hand closes his eyes. The focus in Lilli’s hand flashes with an obsidian aura. The man gasps, cutting off the spell abruptly.

“Well, yes. I think you two better come in and tell me what you found in greater detail. Follow me please.” He waves gestures towards the gate. Zythraul and Lilli follow.

As they step through the gate they feel that pulse of magic vibrate through them and suddenly they are in an entirely different space; not the garden pathway leading up to the tower but a room filled with arcane study parephenalia. The wizard man follows them through. “Firstly, introductions. My name is Athalos of the Many-Starred Cloak.”

“Humility. This is Zythraul.”

“A pleasure. We are grateful for your help.” Athalos looks at the two of them over his nose,

“Indeed. It’s lucky you sought out our help. Do you know what that is?”

”Some kind of arcane focus, best we can tell.” Athalos nods.

“It’s definitely that. With a powerful spell baked into it, as well as some powerful detrimental effects. I would have recommended you avoid attuning to it but well… we’ve missed that boat apparently.” He looks pointedly at Lilli, who looks away and around at the room.

“And have me miss out on getting to know you? Rude.” Lilli hears Zotrym say. She jumps ever so slightly in surprise, not expecting him to interject. She spots him sitting in a chair behind Athalos, elegantly draped, one hand on his cane, bowler hat on his knee. She says nothing to him in response. The other two appear to not see him.

“Well, do you know anything about the portal we saw in the asylum? This focus came out of that.” Zythraul asks, resisting the urge to throw a judgmental glance in Lilli’s direction.

”Came out of the... huh. Well, without being there myself it’s hard to say. Describe it. You said monsters came out of it? Describe those.” Zythraul does. Athalos contemplates.

“Definitely sounds like it’s connected to the underdark. You don’t get those monsters here in Neverwinter. A portal appearing in the city like that around the same time the head of the city is murdered and strange magic foci coming out of them? It does seem suspicious. Let me just…” and he turns to a shelf of books behind the chair Zotrym is perched on, contemplating for a moment. Lilli is sure Zotrym will be seen, but the mage says nothing about the green man sitting in his reading chair. Zotrym winks at lilli, apparently hearing what Lilli was thinking.

“He cant see me either. Just you babes.”

“Uhh, you didn’t say anything about these detrimental effects. Anything I should be worried about?” Athalos pulls a book down from the shelf, flicking through the pages. Over his shoulder he mumbles,

“Oh. yes. probably.” Lilli and Zythraul wait as Athalos loses his train of thought in the pages of the book he is skimming. There’s a long moment of a quiet before he turns around, remembering the presence of his visitors.

“Oh! Right. Detrimental effects may include a slow descent into madness and hallucinations. also, if you stray too far from it your senses might stop functioning until you get back within range. But, you can summon a powerful ally with it and it will definitely empower any spells you cast, so there’s that?” Athalos goes back to skimming his book, furrowing his brow. Lilli looks concerned and falls back into another chair behind her. Zythraul also scowls.

“I’m sorry, what? Madness? Hallucinations? Loss of senses?” Athalos nods. Zythraul turns to Lilli.

“Lil, we don’t need this. We should leave it here for the mages to put somewhere safe. Unattune from it and let’s go.”

“Oh, that would be a good idea, except you can’t. Not that easily, anyway” Athalos says, at the same time Lilli hears Zotrym say,

“I wouldn’t suggest that.”

“Can’t?”

“Not unless one of you can channel a greater restoration into you at the same time. I know I certainly can’t. Those potential side effects I mentioned? Empowered tenfold if you attempt unattunement. You won’t sever the connection unscathed without help. Or you die.”

[aspenmissing]

𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Ban and Y/N keep their positions, just glaring into one another's eyes as the other three sins just watch with anticipation as to what will happen next.

"It's said that close friends often fight. It that the case here?" Gowther questions.

"I don't think it's a fight." King replies.

"Nope, more like a show of dominance I see it." Meliodas says, resting a finger on his chin.

"It's said that friendship is a beautiful thing. Is it?" Gowther asks, tilting his head.

"Excuse me?" King asks. Ban just smiles to the woman before using his whip to wrap around the Holy Knight's heart and tear it out of his body, all Y/N could was gasp.

Back at the boar hat, Cain was now welcomed in as he's now sat on one of the stools at the bar, Elizabeth now pouring some ale into a mug for him.

"I see, so Meliodas and Y/N survived? I'm so glad to hear that" Cain says, nodding.

"Here." She places down the ale in front of Cain, resting his hands back in front of her, a warm smile on her face towards the old man.

"Sorry about this. Hate to trouble you, Princess."

"It's fine." The old man takes a big gulp from the ale before looking back to Elizabeth with a smile.

"Still, I was surprised when I saw you. Your noble features and soft voice are so like hers. I really thought that Liz had come back to life. If that girl were still alive, she'd be a woman in her prime right now."

"Oh, was she your daughter by any chance?" Elizabeth asks, and Cain shakes his head.

"Liz was her nickname, she had the same name as you, Elizabeth."

"What?"

"She was Meliodas' girlfriend, and Y/N's best friend, almost sister." Cain says, causing Elizabeth to gasp.

(Italic-Underline = Cain talking)

"Liz was a knight from an enemy nation who bungled a night raid on Danafall. She was captured and sentenced to death."

A young woman, looking almost exactly like Elizabeth only with short red hair and a not so soft look, sits tied up in the middle of a large group of Holy Knights, the said group holding up weapons and shouting at her.

"And the ones who came to her rescue was none other than Meliodas and Y/N, who were the captain and lieutenant of Danafall's Holy Knights then."

Meliodas and Y/N walk through the crowd and stand on either side of the woman, Meliodas was his hand raised up and Y/N with her eyes darting all around the crowd, waiting for any sudden movement.

"Naturally, the others shouted out their objections."

The group of Holy Knights all begin to shout and point at Liz, ordering her to death and sending threats to her, completely ignoring Meliodas and Y/N's opinions of not killing her.

"If so, then that makes all of you our enemy!" Meliodas says with a smile, Y/N cracking her knuckles.

"And we all know you don't want that." She adds, glaring around at the other Holy Knights.

"What!" The entire group of Holy Knights shout in surprise, while Liz gives them both a look of shock, that she had been spared and saved by two very young looking people.

==

Later the three are in a room of sorts, Y/N is say down at the table, munching on her food while Meliodas holds up two plates, staring to Liz. The woman herself now untied and out of her armour.

"You are so naïve."

"You think so?"

"Don't say stuff like that, he'll just take it as a compliment." Y/N asks, shoving the food into her mouth. "Believe me, I've called him many things."

"Hey, don't give me that!" Liz shouts, as Meliodas just places the two plates down, "The only reason you did that is 'cause you're after my body!" She says, pointedly towards Meliodas, she then looks to Y/N. "And god knows what you want me for, probably to eat me since you act like a mutt!"

"Ouch, that's not very nice. Besides, I don't eat people." Y/N says, smiling to her.

"Well if either of you touch me! I'll beat you to death!" Liz threatens, only for Meliodas to come behind her and place his hands on her breasts, pushing them up.

"Now come on, don't get so worked up. Let's just have dinner." Y/N just spits out her food and slams her hands on the table, standing up.

"Meliodas!!!!!" She shouts.

"Stop that!" Liz says, pushing him away. Y/N begins to chase after the blond haired man with a wooden spoon raised.

"Stop being so pervy towards women!!"" She shouts.

(Okay so, in this case the Mutt can be a definition for someone who is incompetent or stupid, a fool overwise. But also ironically that Y/N is also a Mutt, technically)

Elizabeth now sits besides Cain, as he continues telling the story.

"It turned out that Liz had been sold as a slave to that enemy nation. Because of that, she didn't trust anyone but herself. But maybe that was what you'd call a fateful encounter. Even as she complained bitterly that he was a naïve man and Y/N was just a mutt, Liz gradually grew attracted to Meliodas and began loving Y/N like a sister. She was a girl who had an uncommon charm herself, and the rest of us began opening up to her. Of course, that was from a time long past."

"I can't believe she thought they were naïve and a mutt. Sir Meliodas is just very...very kind, and Y/N can just be quite, laid back at times...that's all." Cain just chuckles

"Do you know the reason why he won't carry a decent sword around with him?" Elizabeth just shakes her head, "He's too powerful. No one who's crossed swords with him has lived to tell the tale, and he doesn't like to put himself in that situation. At the same time though, I also think he can be too gentle a soul." Cain reaches into his cloak, pulling out a small sword and placing it on the table.

"What is that?" Elizabeth asks.

"It's something Liz once tried to give Meliodas as a gift."

"Thanks, but I don't need a sword. I don't wanna kill anybody." Meliodas says, waving Liz off, who is holding the sword. Y/N stands besides her with arms crossed and a frown,

"You know, once day you're gonna wish you had this sword." She says, shaking her head.

"So I accepted it for him, and I've been holding on to it ever since." Cain says, as Elizabeth continues to stare down at the sword. "And Y/N, she may not look it but she had the kindest heart out of everyone. Have you ever noticed when she fights, she tends to be quite gentle with them, playful even?"

"Like when she fought that man at the festival?" Elizabeth says, thinking back to Y/N's fight against Caesar, and how she was "playing with her food" as Meliodas described it. 

"Exactly. She was always someone who could never kill someone who didn't deserve it. She'd always find a way to save them, killing them only if they have threatened someone close to her. However, I remember looking at that girl once, seeing her kind smile yet her eyes never matched, they always held some sort of sadness in them whenever she stared at Liz, as if she knew what was going to happen...And even now, I see that sadness in her eyes as if everyone she looks at is a ghost of her past...a regret of not being able to save them.

Back with the other Sins, the monster is resting in it's knees with it's hand-fingers holding it up, Ban rips his arm out of Y/N's tight grasp, huffing while Y/N just frowns and glares towards the monster.

"Ban...why'd you have to kill him." She asks, looking up to him with cold eyes.

"All I did was bring the curtain down on the crappy life of some guy who turned into a monster. Trust me, I did him a favour."

"What?!" Y/N yells, getting up in Ban's face. Meliodas stands between them, smiling sheepishly up at them. "Who gives you the right to say he had a crappy life, huh!"

"Okay you two, let's calm it for now." Meliodas says, looking between the two.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact he allowed this to actually happen!" Ban says, gesturing to the monster. Y/N grabs him by his jacket, teeth gritted and cold stare.

"You think he allowed this! No one would wish this upon their worst enemy!"

"Both of you, look!" King shouts, causing Ban and Y/N's eyes to snap away from each other and back to the beast, Y/N dropping her hold on Ban's jacket. "I think he's whispering something?"

"Even though his heart's been gouged out, he's still seeing the illusion that I gave him." Gowther says. Y/N just looks to the man in sadness, wondering what life he had lived, and the life he will leave behind. Suddenly the monster's 4 heads let out a roar.

"What the hell is this? I know I ripped his hear out." Ban says with a shocked expression before releasing, "Damn it! So, he's a demon too?!." The monster begins transforming as the four heads become one giant head at the top, it's hands splitting to make another pair of arms and hands, giving him now four. "Why'd the Holy Knight turn into a demon?! What's going on?"

"I know him, it's Dale... He became a Holy Knight about ten years ago!" Meliodas says.

"Yeah he was a father, and he always said he wanted to be just like us, so his daughter could be proud of him." King says as they remember the young man holding his daughter and smiling at them.

"How'd he end up like this?" Y/N questions, looking to the man with sadness.

"He's coming." Gowther says, and the monster begins running at them.

"Hey Dale! You remember me, right?" Meliodas shouts, standing in front of the monster.

"Wake up, Dale!" Y/N shouts, standing besides the short blond man. Ban suddenly kicks Meliodas and Y/N in the side, getting them out of the way.

"What are you doing dumbasses." Ban shouts, before turning back to see a sudden fist come at him, however he's too slow and his top half explodes with the punch.

"Ban!" Meliodas shouts.

"Stay down Captain, lieutenant!" King says, summoning thousands of daggers to rain down on the monster, "Let's do this! Fight fire with fire!" However he stops after realising the daggers aren't hurting him and barely stabbing into him - instead the monster somewhat chuckles and pushes all the daggers out. "In that case..."

"Stop it King!" Y/N shouts, looking up at him. He looks down to her, seeing her begging eyes.

"But, Y/N?" King says before he's cut off by the monster spitting a ball of green at King, catching him and pulling him to the ground harshly.

"KING!" Y/N shouts.

"Dale, cut it out now!" Meliodas says, sitting besides Ban.

"There's only one guy who ought to cut it out." Ban says, now regenerated as he sits up topless. "That would be you!" Ban says, punching Meliodas in the face, who falls to the floor. Ban then turns to Y/N, going to punch her only for the woman to catch it, clenching her fist tightly to break his wrist, but he doesn't even flinch. 

"Ban just struck the Captain and tried to hit the lieutenant" Gowther says, "Why is that?"

"Gowther, why don't you help us out and fight, too?" King asks, slowly standing up.

"Could you let me think it over a bit?" Gowther asks.

"Seriously?" King shouts.

"Hate to say it Gowther, but now isn't really the time to think it over." Y/N says, watching the monster as she walks over to Meliodas.

"If you're not into this, get the hell out of here." Ban says, walking past the two and towards the monster. Meliodas slowly gets up as he looks to Ban, Y/N glaring at the fox sin, "Two half-ass softies can't save Jack, you'll only get us all killed."

"Ban."

"Sir Meliodas!" A voice rings from above. The group look up the cliff to see Elizabeth, breathing heavily with a small sword clutched to her chest.

"Elizabeth!" Meliodas shouts.

"Take this!" Elizabeth throws the sword down to Meliodas, both him and Y/N recognizing it.

"That sword." They both think

"Hey Meliodas, I still want you to accept this sword, all right?" Liz asks, holding the sword up to him.

"Sir Meliodas, it's not that Liz wanted you to fight! It's that she wanted you to live! Don't you understand? You're someone who stands up for what he believes in, and if that's your Sin, then I'll carry that burden with you!"

"You fine with that? Making a woman go that far..." Ban didn't even get to finish his sentence before Meliodas jumps up into the air to grab the sword, unsheathing it.

"I hope you can forgive me!" Meliodas says, before his eyes clock to Y/N's saddened expression, yet a small smile and a nod to him makes him continue. "Both of you -" Before slicing the monster, no...Dale into pieces. Dale slowly crumbles before collapsing, smoke covering the area as Meliodas sheaths the sword back, smiling up to Elizabeth.

"That was amazing Captain!" King says, getting a piggy back from Gowther. 

"Impressive." Gowther adds.

"Hey, King...sorry about getting you hurt." Y/N says, looking down and frowning. King begins to slightly worry.

"I-It's fine, it wasn't your fault at all! Please don't blame yourself! I can take it" King says, shaking his head and waving his hands at her. 

"Yeah, I knew you could pull it off, Captain!" Ban says, smirking. "At least one of you have some sense." Ban says, directing that towards Y/N. Meliodas and King look to the woman, expecting her to blow but all she shows is a smile.

"Sure sure, whatever you say. Just you wait Ban, because one day you're gonna wish I was gentle with you." She says, laughing lightly. The three sins, minus Ban and Gowther, begin discussing Dale while Ban walks over to the man, who's body is still fused with the flesh of the demon, yet something piercing his stomach, catches Ban's eyes.

"A human transforming into a demon, is that really possible?" King asks as Ban pulls on the fleshy plant looking thing before it rips out of his stomach.

"Hmm, could be a course or maybe some kind of experiment?" The fleshy plant suddenly opens it's eyes and shows it's mouth, wiggling at Ban.

"No way." King says, staring at them. "You think they crated a man-made Demon?"

"Guess so, and they used a Holy Knight to do it." Y/N says.

"But that means someone had to go behind the backs of two Holy Knight Grand Masters. Could it be true?"

"Yeah." Meliodas turns around to face him. "And there's a good chance that a Holy Knight Grand Master's directly involved."

"Then it's either Dreyfus...or its..." Ban holds up the plant looking thing, it's eyes beading at him, before a light arrow pierces its side, causing Ban to look to the direction in which the arrow came from.

"Hendrickson." Gowther finishes, staring at the small plant demon.

"You figure out something?"

"Yes. The person likeliest to be involved in this incident...is Holy Knight Grand Master Hendrickson." The small plant demon squeals before Ban wraps his hand around it and squeezes it, tossing it to the side.

"I'm getting hungry, let's get back." Ban says, walking past Gowther. Y/N however walking towards Gowther and Dale, kneeling down besides the man.

"Are you there?" Dale whispers, eyes closed and voice weakened.

"Yes, I am indeed present." Gowther replies, adjusting his glasses.

"Well, thank you...so much my friend." Dale says, weakly smiling.

"Friend? Do you think so, I heard that a friend is someone who's dear to you. Was I able to become your friend." Gowther stares down at Dale, waiting for an answer, but the man had already passed. "Please, Dale, tell me!"  Y/N just closes her eyes, resting a hand on top of his chest, feeling what was left of his life drain completely, as she feels his soul leave for someplace better.

"I'm sorry Gowther, but he's gone. I sense him no longer here." She says, patting him on the chest before standing up, and the two stare down at him. "His daughter would have been so proud of him, I'll be sure to tell her when I see her, whenever that it..."

"I wonder, do people shed tears at times like these?" Gowther questions, Y/N nods. 

"Some do, especially if you were close to them. Some shed tears out of love for the dead, the regret of not saying what they had to. Some even cry out of pity for them..."

"And what kind of tears should we be shedding?" Gowther asks, starting up at the woman. She just smiles down at him. 

"We don't, we instead smile and give him honour for what he has done for everyone." Y/N looks to Gowther. "Not everyone has to cry for the dead." She pokes him on the nose, smiling, "Hell when my day comes, I hope you all celebrate and drink ale for me, don't want any tears." 

Elizabeth looks past the group and over to Gowther and Y/N, more specifically at Y/N, seeing her smiling down at the man, and all Elizabeth can do is slightly frown.

"Seeing her kind smile yet her eyes never matched, they always held some sort of sadness in them...Even now I see that sadness in her eyes as if everyone she looks at is a ghost of her past...a regret of not being able to save them."

[yespolkadotkitty]

our cover is that we're a couple and it only makes sense to sleep in the same bed

With Din, I beggeth!!!

Hi friend! <3

Words: 605 ~ Warnings: Absolutely none, bed sharing? If that needs to be warned for ~ Pairing: Din Djarin x gn! reader

-----

"One room?" The twi'lek on reception asks.

You hesitate, glance up at Din. Of course, it's impossible to tell what he's thinking through that helmet. You're good at reading faces, but reading beskar steel... not so much.

He nods curtly. "One room. Thankyou."

You hand over the credits and she drops the key, old-fashioned, metal, in your palm.

As Din leads you to the elevator, he murmurs, "Being married is our cover. We can't have separate rooms."

You nod. He's right.

"I guess we also can't have separate beds," you say, surprised, as you unlock and push open the door to your room. The bed is big, easily big enough for the two of you, but Din is broad, so if you share, you'll be able to feel the heat coming off him.

"I'll take the floor," he says, unbothered.

"No, you won't. You sleep on the floor on your ship most nights, or awkwardly in the cockpit."

He turns to look at you and you imagine that under the helmet he's raising an eyebrow.

"Take a little luxury where you can," you add.

"All right."

But you can hear the smile in his voice.

You go through the motions of getting ready for bed, turning away from each other to undress. The clunk of armour being laid on the floor makes your pulse rabbit, and when you turn back to see Din in his black tunic and trousers, part of his neck exposed between the helmet and collar, you think that a little bit of skin shouldn't excite you this much.

"You think they'll know if we don't share the bed?" You ask.

He hesitates. "Second thoughts? I can take the floor. I mean it."

"Not at all." You sit on the bed and pat his side. "I just want to know how much you think we'll be spied on."

"Hard to say."

You smile at his short sentences. Din has never been one to speak more than is needed.

"Well, then we'd better be safe." You close your eyes and stretch out. The sound of the light clicking off is loud with only your breaths in the room. It's not a large space and you are very aware of Din beside you. "I'll keep my eyes closed. You know. If you want to take the helmet off."

He hmmms a little, and then you hear the little hiss of the release of the helmet. You hold your breath, anticipation skating through your blood. The helmet clunks softly as it connects with the floor. "It's so dark in here you wouldn't be able to see me, anyway," he says, finally. His voice sounds different, unfiltered. Still sexy as hell, but.. smoother. More intimate.

You open your eyes and wave your hand infront of your face. You can see the shape of your fingers, but no details. "Okay." You tug the thick sheets up to your chin, shivering unvoluntarily. "Are you cold? I'm cold."

"I rarely get cold." Then his voice softens in sympathy. "C'm here."

"Are you sure?"

"We are meant to be married." There's the music of humour in his voice.

You shuffle closer, and then completely give in. He's like a furnace, boiling hot, and it only takes two minutes for you to spread all over him like an octopus, leeching all his heat.

You're asleep in seconds. So you don't hear him murmur that actually, he often wishes you were married for real.

------

[justletmeplayminecraft]

5 Times NPC!Wels Learnt Something From the KingdomCrafters

(and the one time they learnt something about what's up with him.)

featuring: wels got through this solely because they're too polite to say anything, wels learns new things!, a lot of this is kind of crackish, wels is basically the local server cryptid and they support him.

you can learn more about the npc!wels headcanon here, and through the tag on my blog!

"Look–" Cub leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, "–I think we can all agree Wels is a little… strange." Iskall raises his eyebrows, glancing to the door as if Wels might be right there, listening.

"A little?" He whispers. "I love the dude, but he acts like a newly spawned mob sometimes."

Stress whacks his head with the back of her hand, "Iskall!"

"What? It's true!"

"Doesn't mean you should say it!" Cub quietly steps between their squabbling, listening to Stress giggle as she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Not everybody comes from such fortunate circumstances, you know?" Python points out, gesturing to himself. "Maybe he just… grew up sheltered!"

"There's sheltered and then there's Wels," Iskall replies. "The most sheltered people I've met aren't this extreme. And he said he'd been in survival worlds for years."

"It doesn't mean we should judge him though, guys," Ren adds from where he's leaning against the wall.

Iskall holds his hands up, "No no no, no judgement here. Just confusion."

"Yeah," Stress agrees. "Like what if we accidentally say somethin' and upset him? Like, it turns out he's come from a cult 'n that's why he acts so differently. I wanna be able to help!"

"I don't think he's come from a cult," Cub replies. "I've not heard of any that wear knight armour."

"But you've heard of cults?" Iskall asks incredulously. Cub shrugs and doesn't comment any further.

"Look, he's not hurting anyone," Python interjects. "I think we should just leave him be. Just… maybe note down all the things that are different about him. Especially if I'm going to vouch for you guys."

"That sounds very judgemental!" Iskall cries, waving his hands up.

"Do you have a better plan?" Cub asks. Iskall groans, slumping until he's almost lying on his back.

"Then that's what we do," Stress decides.

1. Lying

Cub's always been one for experiments. A lot of fun comes from making a hypothesis and testing it. He wouldn't call Wels an experiment, not exactly. But he can't help but notice some things.

Which is why, one day, Cub asks him, "Wels, you know you can say things that aren't true?" He means it as a joke; though they've all noticed Wels is very literal. But he doesn't expect the look of surprise that crosses Wels' face, blue eyes widening. The lid of the chest he was looking through falls shut with a thud.

"You can?" There's a high note to his voice, twisting to face Cub. His eyebrows have vanished under the visor of his helmet. In fact, he almost sounds suspicious when he asks, "How?"

Cub squints at him, "You just do?" Wels' expression remains confused. Cub puts his building materials away in his chest. This needs his full attention. "Alright, Wels, we're going to have a lying lesson." Wels watches as Cub sits on the lid.

"A… lying lesson?" The knight crosses his arms, head tilted like a wolf presented with steak he isn't getting. Cub nods.

"I think you need one. Pull up a chair." Wels looks behind him before placing his crafting table, pushing himself onto it. Cub really has no idea how Wels lives so comfortably in that full suit of armour. One day. One day, he'll catch him out of it. Back to the topic at hand, however, "Tell me the sky is green." Wels recoils.

"Why?"

"Just do it." Wels looks up at the sky, raising a hand to block out the light of the sun. He scowls at what he sees.

"But the sky's blue." He turns to Cub with the declaration. His eyes are more vibrant than the pale sky above them, their colour darkened by his confused squint. Cub links his palms together in his lap.

"It is," he replies. "So tell me it's green." Wels tilts his head into a suspicious glare. He glances at the sky once more, lips sticking out a little as he presses them together.

"The sky is green?" The knight tries.

"Okay, good start. Now sound confident about it."

"The sky is green." Cub claps, sitting up at Wels' declaration.

"There you go! You just lied to me." Wels rests a bent finger over his lips. Cub's sure he could see the cogs turning in his brain if he tried looking. And could see through that helmet, of course.

"I don't get it," Wels finally replies.

Cub sighs, "What don't you get?" Wels' head falls once more into its tilt. This time, his hand waves as he talks.

"I mean, why would I say the sky is green? It's obviously not." Cub closes his eyes.

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best example," he admits. "Usually, when you lie, you do it about something the other person wouldn't know." Wels taps his fingers against his cheek, black glove rhythmic in movement. The way those blue eyes watch him reminds him of a child in a lesson, and Cub feels obligated to add, "Not that you should lie, of course. Lying is a bad thing to do."

Wels makes a noise, sitting up straight, "Then why would you tell me to do it?!" Cub didn't think the knight could look more confused, but he's managed it.

"Lying can be useful, sometimes," he explains, "like if you want to hide something. You can lie about it instead of just saying what you're trying to hide." There's a glint of thought in Wels' eyes. He returns to his normal, upright posture.

"Huh."

"That doesn't mean lying is a good thing. It's best to be honest with people. But sometimes a little white lie can be useful." Wels squints again at that. He leans onto his thighs, weight resting on the plates of armour.

"Define a 'white lie'."

Cub laughs, "Alright, alright. A white lie is just a small lie that doesn't hurt anyone." Wels takes in that information, eyes shadowed as he thinks.

"So a black lie would be a lie that hurts someone?" Cub blinks. Huh. He guesses that would be the logical conclusion, but-

"No, those are just lies." Wels scowls, crossing his arms.

"That makes no sense."

"That's just how it works."

"Then it's stupid." Cub can't help but laugh at the childish pout. For someone constantly decked out in a full suit of armour, Wels really acts like a kid sometimes.

"Look, man, I can't explain it any better! Sometimes things just don't make sense." Wels huffs. He pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to the chest. Cub smiles, shaking his head. "Come on, try lying to me again. Make it believable." Wels turns to him, expression blank.

"I am grateful for the lesson." Cub is about to tell him it's okay, before hesitating. Wels' tone of voice hadn't changed at all.

"Wels- Did you just lie about that?" Wels smiles, looking far too proud of himself.

"I don't know Cub, did I?" Cub blinks. Oh man, what has he unleashed?

Stress is gonna kill him.

2. Counting over 64

Python glances up at the build, checking their supply of wood. His tongue flicks as he tries to pull up a number and fails. Wels is already diligently sorting through his chests, polished armour glinting in the bright daylight. His visor is pushed up to reveal those bright eyes, even if they're hidden in the shadow of the helmet. He's focused, Wels' lips moving as he whispers too low for Python to catch. Well, better to ask than find they don't have enough.

"Hey, Wels!" Python calls. Wels looks up, helmet not shifting at inch. Python really does find those eyes mesmerising. "How much wood do you think we'll need?"

"Two sixty-fours and thirteen." Python's brain grinds to a halt. "Wait, maybe two sixty-fours and thirty-two, to be safe." Python waves his hand, still trying to understand the first part of what he said. Wels tilts his head, confused... He's waiting for Python to speak. Python attempts to speedrun the maths in his head.

"Wels, do you mean two stacks and a half? Like… A hundred and sixty blocks?" Wels frowns at him, closing the distance so they can have an easier conversation.

"No? I thought we were using logs. Is this a new block?" That confusion looks genuine. Oh boy, Python is really in it now, isn't he?

"Wels, dude," he keeps all judgment out of his tone. "You do know you can count over sixty-four? Like, seriously, I am honestly asking this right now." Wels looks at the stack of wood in his hands, and Python gets a hint of furrowed eyebrows from under the visor.

"But-" Wels holds up the stack towards Python, "-It says sixty-four." Python takes a deep breath.

"That's just how many fit in a stack, Wels. Numbers go higher than that!" Wels is still frowning. "I mean, look at your levels!"

"My levels?"

"Yeah, what you use for enchanting, dude!"

"Right. What I use for enchanting. Those levels." Wels nods, looking like things make sense now. He turns the stack of logs over in his hand. Python claps his shoulder, turning back to his resources.

"Yeah, those levels! Have you really never gone over sixty-four?" Wels shakes his head. Python knew Wels was pretty naïve about the world, but this is a whole other level. Did he ever go to school? Well, he must not have. Another piece that makes up the puzzle of their resident knight.

"So, there's numbers over sixty-four." It's a statement, but his voice suggests he needs a bit more explanation. Python searches around, managing to find his list of resources in his pocket. He scratches down a quick '0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9'.

"These are all the numbers that exist, right?" Wels nods, looking over his shoulder. Python tries to ignore how cold Wels' armour is through his fragile suit.

"Right."

"So every number is made up of these. If you were to guess, what do you think comes after sixty-four." Wels squeezes his eyes shut, before gasping.

"Oh! Sixty-five! That makes sense!" Python smiles.

"Exactly! So, after sixty, you've got seventy, eighty and ninety." Wels nods, so Python assumes he's following. "And then you hit the hundreds." He draws a neat '100.'

"You… You can put three numbers together?"

Python's gonna need to call for back-up here.

3. Nether Portals

"Wels!" Stress sings, throwing her arms around the knight and giggling when he jumps. She rubs her skin after releasing him, soothing the goosebumps under her cardigan. How does Wels manage to wear such cold armour? Honestly, she has no idea. But, hopefully that'll make him the perfect partner for this!

"Stress," Wels replies, inclining his head in greeting. "What can I do for you?" She grins. Perfect!

"I need a buddy to go with me to the nether," she tells him, bouncing on her toes. "And Iskall's busy, sooo~"

"So you want me to help out?" Wels asks.

Stress nods, "Exactly! So, are you gonna?" Wels shrugs, but nods, opening his inventory.

"Yeah, I'll come along. I'm not doing much today." Stress tries to peek into his inventory, but Wels has closed it before she can. She hops to his enderchest instead, pulling out her own nether supplies. Clears up a bit of space, too!

"Brilliant! Where's your portal, then?" She looks around, trying to spot it.

"My… portal?" Wels repeats. When she turns back to him, Wels' face is pinched in confusion. Ah. Thinking of, she's never heard a portal in Wels' base, has she?

"Yeah, the obsidian ones, with the big swirly purple in the middle of it!" Wels steps back, face guarded.

"Those portals..." His arm is raised protectively in front of him.

Stress makes sure to soften her tone, unsure what about this has got Wels so on edge, "Yeah, Wels. Have you never been through one?" Wels is quick to shake his head. "Okay, how about we go through one together? The nether is really cool! Like, it's scary, but it's really cool."

"You'd come with me?"

"I'd be right by your side!" She nods. Wels relaxes, looking less tiny (she doesn't know how he manages that, with the full suit of armour and all.)

"Okay," Wels replies. "I trust you." There's something funny about language. Even though she doesn't know the context behind this - what's gotten Wels all scared - she can tell there's a weight in those words. She's not gonna let him down.

"Right, let's find the nearest portal, then." She takes his gloved hand, hoping to offer a bit of comfort. The day is bright outside, the sun shining overhead. She has to avoid looking at Wels as she speaks. "So, what do you know about the nether?"

"Uh," Wels falters. "Not much. Nothing, actually." He pauses, before perking up, "No, wait, Ren mentioned getting blocks from there before?"

"Exactly!" She smiles. "The nether's basically another dimension. It's pretty firey, but it's got a lot of stuff that you can't find anywhere else. Like glowstone, or stuff to make potions."

"So it won't send me to a different server?" Wels asks, uncertain. Ah.

"No, you'll stay right here. Be able to message us and everything." Wels doesn't reply other than a small hum, so she takes some time to think his words over in his head. "Did… Did you leave a server without meaning to, Wels?" Wels squeezes her fist.

"No, I- I meant to leave," he admits, his voice quiet. "I just didn't realise those weren't the same."

"Did you think I was making you leave?" Wels doesn't reply. "Oh, Wels. We wouldn't do that to you, love. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. You're basically family, now!"

"Family?" Wels echoes.

"Yeah, family.

4. How Not to Sleep

One of the first things the KingdomCrafters had warned Scar about after joining was Wels. They'd sat him down, talking in low voices, explaining that Wels is a bit strange. A lovely person, but he has odd habits that need to be accommodated. And Scar is no stranger to that. He was given his little list, all the entries on it reasonable in his eyes. And despite their words, Scar struggles to see what they meant. He and Wels struck up a quick and easy friendship, chatting about mundane things. Sure, some things were a bit extraordinary. Like his refusal to remove even a single piece of his armour. But, Scar could work with that.

No, it isn't until Scar starts working more with Wels that he notices it.

Wels' sleeping patterns are… strange.

Scar jokes he doesn't sleep, but the amount of work Wels gets done is nothing short of impossible. He doesn't understand it!

So, when Wels lets Scar stay overnight at his base, Scar is excited he'll finally get to brag about seeing the great Welsknight sleep. The others have told him he does, but he's still not sure he believes them.

He'll admit, he snuck around a bit. The house is silent, the floor creaking as Scar tiptoes as lightly as he can. The moonlight is his only guide, leading him to a wooden door. Scar takes a deep breath in, pushing it open and listening to the hinges whine.

Wels is lying in bed. In his full armour.

Scar closes the door, then reopens it. No, Wels is definitely in his full armour! He's not even taken off his helmet. Scar can't tell if he's just imagining this. Surely he must be dreaming. There's no way Wels is just lying there, in a full suit of armour, sleeping. Scar's completely and utterly baffled! Bamboozled, even!

He tiptoes into the room, leaning over the bed to tell if Wels is actually asleep. Maybe that's a little creepy, but he's imagining Wels will suddenly jump up and scare him anyway. Honestly, he's almost hoping Wels will. That's more normal than whatever this is!

It turns out, the truth is even worse. Wels has his eyes open. The blue seems dimmed in the darkness, staring uncomprehending at the ceiling. Scar clicks his fingers in front of his face and receives no reaction. Right. Right, okay.

Scar is going to go back to bed and write this experience off as a bad dream.

5. Hands don't go in lava?

Ren wipes the sweat off his brow, glancing at the flickering torchlight bouncing off Wels' armour. The knight is humming to himself, sorting through his inventory. Wels rarely comes caving with them, and the strip mines he's made resemble more of a labyrinth. But, he's proven to be quite an enjoyable caving partner so far. Wels takes on most of the mobs, and Ren's not seen the guy break a sweat yet. He can't believe Wels has been holding out on them like this.

"Hey, Wels, how much do you have so far, man?" Wels glances in Ren's direction, then looks back at his inventory with a deep frown. Ren can hear him murmuring numbers, along with counting on his fingers. He doesn't interrupt, even lets his pick hang by his side to give the guy some quiet.

"I have… just over a stack of iron. Um.. Seventy one, maybe? And sixteen gold and… redstone." Ren manages to hold back his laugh. He's surprised they don't ask Wels to take stock of their storage. He's so diligent despite the whole getting used to numbers thing.

"Sounds like we should be good to head back, then!" Ren decides. Wels smiles at him, small but bright, holding his sword to his chest.

"Alright, if you think that's enough." Ren does. He knows they're considering the invite, so he isn't sure how much longer they'll be in this world. This should be more than enough to keep them going until then. Plus, just 'cause Wels hasn't asked for a break doesn't mean he doesn't need one.

"Nothing stopping us coming back if we need to! Lead the way, Wels." They've noticed that Wels has a strong sense of direction, as long as he's following the same route he took before.

They walk alongside each other through the cave, Ren trying to keep his ears from twitching at the various noises echoing off the walls. Ren freezes as they pass a lava pool, hearing a clack from down the unexplored left passage.

"Wels, watch-" Ren's warning is cut off as an arrow brushes the back of his hand. He panics, trying to swap pickaxe for a bow. Only for the handle to slip out of his fingers and towards the too-hot pool.

"Your pickaxe!" Wels gasps. Ren turns to drag him out of the way of another possible shot, just in time to see Wels, uh… stick his hand straight into the lava. Ren can't help but stare in confusion as Wels shakes molten liquid from his glove, seemingly unharmed.

"Wels?!"

"Here," Wels holds the pickaxe out, undamaged besides some scorch marks on the handle. Ren waves his arms.

"What was that?!"

"What was what?" Wels asks, tilting his head so innocently. Ren growls, pressing his fingers into his forehead.

"You just stuck your hand into-" Another arrow flies by Ren's head, slicing through a few strands of hair. "Nevermind, it's running time!" He grabs Wels' hand (the one that didn't go in lava) and sprints through the tunnels.

As he runs, he swears he hears Wels murmur, "Wait, am I not supposed to do that?"

Ren decides to leave this for somebody else to explain.

+ 1 Iskall learns something about Wels.

"Wels!" Iskall calls, catching a glimpse of shining metal in the otherwise earthy tones of the Swamp Kingdom. Wels turns, the plume of his helmet twirling with him. Iskall jogs the last few steps towards him, smiling at Wels' friendly wave. If Wels notices the tightness of it, or how stiff Iskall's posture is, then he doesn't comment on it.

"Iskall–" Wels' greeting is perfectly polite, "–what brings you to this neck of the swamp?" Iskall hums, trying to urge his hand away from the sword on his hip.

"What's your purpose here, Wels?" Iskall asks. Wels' eyes go wide, taking a subtle step back. His hand clenches into a fist, mouth opening a few times before he finds a response.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I don't know why that's a hard question to answer," Iskall replies. "Surely you should be able to give a reason you came to this server?" Iskall steps into Wels' space. "Like in the paperwork you should have filled in to apply?"

"I-" Wels looks down, swallowing. "I don't-"

"You act like you're a newly spawned villager," Iskall presses on. "We don't know where you came from, I don't think we simply misplaced the documents. We don't know why you're here. And with this possible move, how are we supposed to vouch for you when I don't even trust you myself."

"It's not my fault!" Wels cries. "I didn't even mean to be here, I just went through random portals! Why would I want to hurt you-" He sounds genuine. But Iskall knows better.

"This world is whitelisted, Wels. A player shouldn't be able to just walk in."

"I'm not a player!" Wels cries. Iskall blinks.

"What."

"I'm- I'm not a player," Wels repeats, as if it magically makes more sense this time. "I'm not… I'm an NPC. A non-player character. Not- not a player. It's in the name!"

"But- how?" Iskall frowns. He steps back, looking Wels up and down. "You don't look like a villager." Wels scowls at that, crossing his arms.

"Do- do you really think-" Wels makes a frustrated noise. "There's more NPCs than just villagers!" Iskall shrugs.

"Yeah, there's pigs, too," he says. Wels continues to scowl at him. "Are you going to put us in danger?" Iskall asks, instead.

"No?" Wels doesn't sound sure. "I- I didn't leave my original server on the best of terms."

"And what does that mean?"

Wels looks away, "They were going to delete me so I ran away."

"What?!" He looks at Wels, who keeps staring at the ground. "But you're basically-" A player. Except he isn't, is he? "You're going to have to start from the start." Wels squeezes his arm.

"Well, I started off on an RPG server-"

-

"Hey, Iskall!" Stress waves, running up to him. "I heard you talked to Wels?"

Iskall grins, "I did! It was enlightening." Stress tilts her head, walking alongside him towards the storage.

"Oh? Did you learn what's up with him?"

"Bits and pieces," Iskall shrugs. "I just know that our Wels is one of a kind."

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at. 

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned. 

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger. 

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-”

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

~

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

~

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

~

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

~

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

~

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces. 

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground. 

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt. 

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

~

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)