#killian as half elf

[haileyroseart]

Swift as a hare, and keen as a hawk

~Commissions are Open~

[barry-j-blupjeans]

No one ever told Lucretia how hard it would be to get employees for your supposed-to-be-secret organization. Even harder with the fact that she couldn't even step around it like the Fantasy FBI could. All her opening lines sounded incredibly suspicious. Was she supposed to just walk up to someone and say "so you ever wanna capture those war-starting magic objects that you have no memory of?" She might actually be reported to the Fantasy FBI and that would put a bit of a dent in her "saving the world and stopping the Hunger" plan.

Instead, she had just been just kind of… going up to anyone who sort of seemed like a good fit and tried to make it sound as less shitty as possible without giving them a headache made entirely of Voidfish static. And it was working! Not as well as she'd want it to, of course, but she would take what she would get.

Maureen, obviously, had been there at the start. Lucretia couldn't exactly have a giant moon base without someone with enough money to build the giant moon base. Technically, technically, she was paying Maureen for it and she felt moderately bad about fucking up the economy with her transmuted gold coins (you pick up a thing or two about counterfeit currency when you're on the run from the apocalypse and also living with Taako and Lup), but not bad enough to stop doing it. Besides, the dang thing wasn't even up in the sky yet. Maybe she'd confess after, but it was too important to let out right now.

Then, she had Lucas, unfortunately. The side effect of working with Maureen. But she had other notable employees as well. Killian was probably her strongest asset right now, purely from her role as a Regulator and not a Reclaimer. Her Seekers were few and far between- she couldn't really hire anyone with too high of an intelligence stat, lest her whole plan be discovered. The few Seekers she did have were… well, they were working on it. The Reclaimers themselves… yeesh. It was hard to fill the role without losing too many to the Light's thrall. She didn't want to have a goddamn death trap as a job.

But right now, Lucretia wasn't looking for a Reclaimer, a Seeker, or even a Regulator. Today, she was looking for a bard.

A pathetic bard, if she could. There was only so much nonsense Lucretia could feed Fisher without going moderately to severely insane. The goal right now was to just find someone. No one that would be missed down planetside when they finally got up into the air, no one whose fans would be eagerly awaiting a new release. Just a plain ol' regular bard.

This was the fifth seedy bar Lucretia had visited in the past week. This time, it was in a little town called Water Way, just off the sword coast. The wind was howling when she arrived and it snapped the door shut behind her when she entered.

It was even more grim and disgusting than usual. A group of dwarfs was gathered at a booth, laughing and hollering jokes at each other. There was a couple in the corner engaging in some hanky-panky (that was the technical word for it, Lucretia was pretty sure). The unoccupied booths were still dirty from the last patrons. The barkeep raised a hand to greet her, still clutching a dirty dish rag.

"Here for a drink?" he called.

"Not at the moment, I'm afraid," Lucretia said. "I'm here for the, uhm. The open mic?"

"Just missed it," the barkeep said, lowering his rag. "Though, we've got another in two weeks' time, if you've got somethin' you're looking to perform-"

"Oh, I'm not- I wasn't planning on performing," Lucretia said. "Just listening. But if no one showed up-"

The door snapped open again. Lucretia thought it was just the wind for a second, until she turned and saw a young-ish half-elf in the doorway. He was much too dressed up for the occasion, with a fancy shirt and a poofy hat with a feather in it. He was dripping as if he had fallen into a lake on the way over. In one hand was a violin case. In the other, damp sheet music.

He seemed to realize that everyone was staring at him and shuffled a few feet further inside.

"Uhh," he said. He cleared his throat. "Did I, uhm, did I miss it?"

"I said to be here at six, didn't I?" the barkeep said, sounding faintly annoyed. "Can you tell time, Johann?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I just, uhm, got… sidetracked."

"You look like you fell in the ocean," the barkeep said.

"You're not- you're not super far off-"

"It doesn't matter where you were," the barkeep said. "It's nine now, anyhow. No more open mic."

"It's not like we're missin' much!" one of the dwarfs' hollered. Johann winced, and the barkeeper ignored the comment completely.

"But I wrote a good one this time," Johann said, holding up the soggy sheet music. Lucretia could see him blush in the dim light. "I- I can do it without the sheet music. I have it memorized."

"Two weeks," the barkeep said like they had had this conversation several times before. "Be on time. You want a cuppa?"

Johann looked torn for a second, but ultimately sludged up to the bar. He deposited his violin case on the counter and his soggy sheet music fell on top of it with a splat.

"Actually," Lucretia said, "I would like a drink."

"Atta girl," the barkeep said. Lucretia grimaced but went to sit anyway. She took the stool next to Johann, who was slumped over the bar. "What'd'you want?"

"Cider," Johann said, with the emotion of a depressed seal.

"I'll take a cider, as well," Lucretia said. Johann glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The barkeep nodded and set the rag over his shoulder, disappearing into the back room. The gaggle of dwarves chattered on across the room. Lucretia tapped her fingers against the bar. Eventually, she built up the confidence to say, "so you play the violin?"

"I'm not interested in a hookup, lady," Johann said.

"Oh, fuck no," Lucretia said. "Sorry- no. You're- gods, no."

"Uhm," Johann said. Okay, okay, okay, back on track Lucretia.

"I'm just- I'm trying to find a bard for an… organization I'm forming," Lucretia said, a little bit quieter. Secretive. Cool. Collected. Join my secret shitty moon organization, please? "I figured an open mic would be a good place to start, but I was a little too late, it seems. If you still wanted to perform, I wouldn't mind seeing what you can do."

"…you're choosing all the wrong words for convincing me this isn't a hookup," Johann said, squinting at her.

"It's not," Lucretia said shortly. "That- again, sorry, no thanks. Can I- how would you like to help save the world? Is that a better opener?"

"Cheesy, but a little better," Johann said. He sit up a little and his hat dripped water onto the bar. "Save the world how, though? I'm not gonna be joining some- some Fantasy Avengers shit, lady, I got stuff to do. You see these arms?" He held out his arm, which was dripping wet and skinny as a starved kitten. "I'm not exactly Iron Man over here, you can't expect me to be some kind of musical tank."

"Not at all," Lucretia said. She vaguely wondered if this is how Davenport felt, hiring her. No, that train of thought wasn't productive at all. She needed more gravitas. That would fix all her problems. "All I need you to do is write."

[tazanimated]

Pre-production revealed!

Since the project is finally finished, I thought people might like to see the reference materials given to all of the participants!

Because TAZ is a podcast with no visuals and no canonical look for anything, people were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the characters with a few specific exceptions, otherwise we were worried it might become impossible for people to follow the finished video.

Participants were given both a rough animatic to dictate screen direction, and a PDF that had written descriptions of what details absolutely had to be visible in the characters (Taako is an elf and he has a tall wizard hat mentioned in episode, the boys don't have bracers but Brian and Killian do, etc.), descriptions of the settings as given in-episode, the video specs required to be able to put the whole thing together in the end, a heavily edited version of @tazscripts transcript of the episode, and a few other details deemed important at the time. Participants were also given the email addresses of the people whos claimed parts came before and after their own in hopes that people would collaborate to make sure their shots connected well.

The written descriptions in the PDF were decorated with lovely illustrations like these to hopefully simplify the information people had to take in

Animatic links:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8zt0iEBnaOiRGMzaTAxVk1SbFE/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-Ort-If3RjzskRnr2mifZfA

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8zt0iEBnaOiX2p6QjJ1Sk1lblU/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-IX8MSK8y9E9f275-r48EuQ PDF links:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/13oWYkJKqV37-1vRBJTSbsxyM9Qly_WU0/view?usp=sharing

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1eUAWigJMy6-2qE5U6nrnGy3hl6LzXVEl/view?usp=sharing You'll notice there are two versions of each the animatic and PDF, as linked below. Originally, the episode was only going to cover the second half post-commercial until the call for animators was reshared by Clint on Twitter at the last minute and enough people signed up that it felt appropriate to do the first part as well, and we are forever grateful because the episode is so much better for it! The Disney Channel-parody for the commercial was also completely Andobiki's idea, it was so exciting that I went digging through later episodes for clean "Davenport" clips specially for that.

A few favorite selections from the PDFs are shared as screenshots under the cut, but aside from that!

While I don't know if the others have seen it (send a message if you find out!), Travis watched about half of the episode ON STREAM the day the video came out! For anyone curious about his reaction, it's about an hour and 20 minutes into this twitch vod https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1719528840

Thank you to everyone who watched and shared the finished video, thank you even more to everyone who followed along even when this project seemed like it might not make it, and thank you the most to all of the animators yet again for making the amazing work you did!

An example of how much was cut from the final episode: Black text is used, red is important actions cut from audio, grey is just cut completely

Merle's excessive detail notes because everything about him changes so much over the course of the show

What the partitions for each section of animation look like in text. (Funnily, I chose this at random, but this particular section was taken by a group and turned into a single part)

The beautiful animatic

Best part of the animatic "OOC (out of character), go nuts"

[spartanguard]

imzadi

Summary: Lt. Commander Emma Swan and Commander Killian Jones, both of the USS Misthaven, have been having secret rendezvous for the past few years. Not just lovers, they're imzadi—not quite soulmates, but not far from that either. Maybe someday they'll reveal the depth of their feelings for one another. But today, they're just going to have another secret meeting, like they always do. (A CS Star Trek: TNG AU)

A/N: It's time for my annual self-indulgent birthday fic! This Star Trek AU (based on Riker & Troi) has been in the works for YEARS but I finally got it done in the last couple of days. For those familiar with Star Trek canon, I take some liberties for the purposes of telling this story, but I tried to stay true to the mythos. Thanks to @optomisticgirl​ for the quick beta!!! Enjoy!

rated M | 5.1 k words | AO3

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Lt. Commander Emma Swan, security chief of the USS Misthaven, nodded at her captain’s order and exited the bridge. She was off duty for the next 12 hours and knew exactly how she planned on spending the majority of them—assuming the person she was hoping to spend them with was also amenable to that plan. And she had a feeling he would be. (He always was, at least.)

She entered the vacant turbolift and gave the verbal command to the crew quarters’ level; she knew he’d be easy to convince, but she had to find him first.

The lift stopped before reaching her destination, and the door opened to let another passenger on board—and there he was: Commander Killian Jones, first officer of the ship, and brother of the captain. Half Betazoid, half human; completely attractive—and completely aware of it. There was no way the disheveled style of his dark hair or the length of his gingery scruff were up to Starfleet code, and honestly, no one should look as good as he did in his teal and black uniform—all lean muscle and swagger. It was infuriating. 

And it would probably bother her more if she wasn’t aware of the fact that he could back it up, and all too well. 

“Swan,” he greeted as he boarded the lift, stopping in front of her. 

“Jones,” she answered, looking him right in the eye. Honestly, those were her favorite of his features, even more than his elf-like ears and incredible backside. Betazoid people naturally had black irises, but he’d inherited some incredible blue ones from his human mother that were complemented even more by the color of his uniform. It sounded cliche, but the best way she could describe them was as the color of the sea—and like the sea, they changed.

They were a clear, bright blue when he was happy; a cool blue-gray when he was distressed; and when he was experiencing a very strong emotion, either his own or someone else’s, they disappeared into the black of his pupils. Being half-Betazoid meant Killian was an empath: not only extra attuned to emotions of those around him, but also well aware of his own, and it showed, if you knew what to look for.

And right now, as she stared up at him, with him intently gazing back, she smirked watching them shift from bright aqua to black as night. She loved watching the effect of her own arousal on him.

Thankfully, the door closed behind him at just the right time, and he promptly invaded her space, hand and prosthetic hook coming to rest on her hips while his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes and in a raspy voice asked, “Swan, what are you doing tonight?”

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she gently arched her pelvis forward, just grazing his, but it was enough to draw a stifled moan from him. “You,” she whispered.

His eyes opened and he gave her a wicked, sideways grin in response, cutting a dimple into that scruff and somehow raising the temperature in the lift...or maybe that was just her. 

She couldn’t resist; she fisted his uniform in her hands and pulled him to her, finding his lips with hers in a searing kiss. Their mouths battled for dominance as their tongues danced, and her thick uniform had never felt so stifling. 

Honestly, it reminded her of their first encounter, when they were on an away mission on the jungle planet of Neverland. Back then, days of tension had finally erupted in a combined moment of bliss in the humid, dense foliage, and the rest was history—for a few years now. 

Before things went past the point of no return, Emma pulled back; they both needed to calm down before they left the lift, even if the sound of his ragged breathing only made her want to jump him sooner. 

“Wait 5 minutes; go check on engineering or something,” she breathed, forcing herself to take a step back when the computer’s voice announced their arrival on her floor. 

“As you wish,” he murmured, stepping out of her way as she exited. She paused just outside the doors, attempting to calm her racing heart before heading down the corridor, but glanced back at Killian over her shoulder. As the doors shut, she saw him lean against the back of the lift with his fingers pressed to his lips, looking absolutely fuckstruck. 

Coolly (at least, as much as she was able to), she headed down the hall to her quarters; she loved that she could render such a cocky, confident man, who had a quip or innuendo for everything, completely speechless. 

Once inside her room, she kicked off her shoes and sighed as she undid the zipper at her collar, able to breathe a bit easier now that she had some privacy. She tugged it down a little further, too, just into the red panel on her uniform, allowing the air to cool her flushed chest, but still to a modest level. Honestly, she’d been planning this encounter all day—she had to leave some surprises for later.

She did a quick look around to make sure things were tidy before Killian arrived, but she didn’t really have much to create a mess; that tended to happen when you grew up an orphan and joined Starfleet as soon as you aged out of the foster system. But she tossed yesterday’s underwear in the laundry compartment and folded her baby blanket up, setting it on the recliner just as a knock rapped against the door. God, he was so old-fashioned.

She made the few strides needed to cross her narrow living space, pressed the button that slid the doors open, and there he was, back to looking prim and proper as if he hadn’t been absolutely wrecked just a few minutes ago. Things must have been much calmer wherever he’d gone, but not enough for his eyes to revert to blue. 

“You requested a report on the status in engineering?” he began with a smirk. She hated that they had to use stuff like this as a cover for their nighttime activities, but damn if he didn’t sell it.

“I did. Come in,” she answered authoritatively, stepping aside so he could enter. Once he was in the room, though, she closed the door as fast as possible.

Which was good, because a second later, she was pressed against it, with his mouth on hers once more and their bodies aligned from chest to hips. His hand found its way to the elastic around her blonde ponytail, dug a finger under it, and pulled, letting her hair fall free over her shoulder. 

Then his lips wandered, down her chin to the sensitive spot below her ear, stopping briefly to suck at it just enough to make her squirm; when her groin inevitably brushed against his as she writhed, she could feel his erection through his uniform and she really wished he’d hurry up on this, but she could always tell when he had a plan.

His left arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her held in place against him, as his hand drew a heated path up her side, over the swell of her bosom, to where her uniform was partially unfastened. He kissed his way down her neck and then began to pull the zipper down, pressing his lips against her collarbone as it became exposed, and then down her chest to where sweat was beginning to pool between her breasts. She thought—or hoped, rather—that he might get distracted there, but still he went down, over her abs until the zipper stopped, just below her belly button, pressing one last kiss on her skin there before rising back up.

As he stood, the back of his hand drifted up her stomach, oddly sending a chill down her spine and she pressed herself closer to him. Despite what was going on in his pants, his face seemed relaxed and calm as he set about his business. Carefully, he slid his hand and hook under her uniform and over her shoulders, and pressed the material off of her, gliding down her arms until it fell off her wrists, leaving her almost bare from the waist up.

His eyes perused her form for a moment, and he smirked. “I could be wrong, but I don’t really think black lace undergarments are quite up to Starfleet regulation,” he jokingly chastised as he ran his palm over the soft material covering her breasts, brushing over her hardening nipple with his thumb.

“Are you complaining?” she threw back, coquettishly. “I mean, I can find something more suitable, if you think I should,” she went on, making as if to walk over to her closet.

He gripped her waist, though, before she could get away. “I certainly wasn’t protesting,” he clarified, voice dropping an octave. As he stood there holding her in his arms, a gentle smile softened his features, one that always made butterflies take up residence in her stomach. “My stunning imzadi,” he whispered.

There was that word again—imzadi. She had to look away, because the weight of his adoring gaze on hers, especially when he said that, was too much for her to bear. She’d never forget the first time he’d called her that—it was after their shared tryst on Neverland, as their bodies cooled next to a dazzling pool of clear water. He’d said it just as reverently back then, too, and explained to her what it meant: it was a Betazoid term of endearment used to signify someone’s first. He didn’t really clarify first what, because she definitely didn’t take his virginity, but she had to admit that she’d never quite connected with someone the way she did with Killian; they’d both been abandoned young and had to fight to get to where they were today.

Maybe that was why they clashed so much—they were too similar for their own good sometimes. But that meant it was even sweeter when they came together, physically or otherwise. Truthfully, she knew she was falling for Killian in a way that she’d sworn she never would, but he’d somehow managed to slip through the few cracks in her emotional walls and was slowly breaking them down, piece by piece. 

He wasn’t quite through yet, though, and she didn’t want to let him know just how far he was until she was sure he wouldn’t break her heart like others had in the past. But every time he uttered imzadi, and every time he looked at her in a way that made her feel beautiful like no one ever had before, she found herself inching closer to that point....someday. For now, though, what they had was perfect.

She attempted to tamp down that warm, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around her heart whenever he wrapped his arms around her, but it was getting harder and harder to do. She just hoped he hadn't picked up on that emotion yet, and thankfully, he hadn’t given any indication that he had. 

Besides, she could tell that something else was getting hard. When she finally dared to look up at him, his gaze had switched back to lascivious and she could feel his firm length pressing low on her abdomen. 

“Are you just gonna stare, or are we gonna do something about this?” she asked, turning on the charm as she gripped his hips and tugged them towards her, earning a gasp from him; flirtation was typically the best way for her to move the subject matter back into her comfort zone.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed at the move, throwing his head back and exposing the cords of his neck. She wanted to suck at the little constellation of freckles that ran down it, but they still had far too much clothing on for what she had in mind.

Lightly gripping his wrists where they rested on her waist, she slid his hand and hook down, taking the rest of her jumpsuit with them as they followed the curve of her hips until the uniform fell in a heap at her feet. His grip landed on her rear, palming the black lace she wore there as well. 

Carefully keeping their abdomens in line, she stepped out of the crumpled clothing and shuffled them a couple steps closer to her bed. 

She couldn’t resist—she went ahead and placed a few pecks on the marks on his neck, smiling at the feel of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then she rose onto her bare toes and whispered in his ear, “My turn.”

Bless whoever designed these uniforms, she thought, because whenever she got to take Killian’s off of him, it was like discovering a goddamn treasure. She trailed her fingers down his neck to found the zipper tab on his collar, and started pulling, carefully and slowly. Each inch she opened revealed the thick thatch of hair that covered his firm chest, and she couldn’t wait to brush her fingers through it.

The hair tapered into a line that traveled down his strong core parallel with the zipper, leading to parts she couldn’t wait to unveil. But the zipper stopped before revealing those, and she involuntarily pouted at the interruption.

Killian gave a low chuckle at her expression, earning him a wry glare. She lightly shoved his pecs with both hands in response, but left them there, scratching her fingers through his chest hair and drawing a moan from him, this time closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. Part of her could have just stared at him like that, with his long lashes laying against his cheeks and his perfect profile highlighted by the dim lights of her room, but a more convincing part—and an increasingly wetter part—pushed her to keep going. 

Her fingers dragged up his pecs, tracing the dips of his collarbones, before slipping under the edge of his uniform and sliding the top down his arms, squeezing his perfect biceps as she trailed down to his wrists—but being careful of the hardware around his hook as she guided the garment off. 

The top now hung off his trim waist, giving her an unhindered view of his entire upper body. No matter how many times she’d seen it, she was always distracted by it: how a body could be so welcoming but also so exciting, as written by the gentle ripples of his understated, but still firm, muscles—just defined enough to let you know they were there but not enough to be uncomfortable.

That was a perfect description for their relationship, if it had to have that label: it was vague but it meant that they both felt safe with it; and they’d both been burned enough in the past that it was one of the key things that brought them together. She trusted him; she felt comfortable with him; she...well, she knew the word she wanted to use, but she didn’t dare to yet.

Lust, though...that word certainly fit, and described the overwhelming emotion that took over as she followed his treasure trail down until it disappeared in the bunched-up fabric sitting below his navel. Her patience was running out, so she grabbed his waist to pull him closer and then let her fingertips dip under the edge of his uniform.

But she scoffed as she slid them around him, pushing the garment over his ridiculous, perfect, firm ass. “Y’know, it’s awfully bold of you to critique my underwear as not being proper when you’re not wearing any at all,” she teasingly admonished as she freed his erection. 

“Are you complaining?” he parroted with a smirk. 

“Nope,” she answered, letting the rest of his uniform fall to the floor around his feet. 

She took a second to glance at his strong thighs, but was more eager to straddle them, so she pressed herself back against him and started to guide them yet closer to her bed. She may have been too eager, though—understandable, given the way his cock was pressed against her stomach—but in her haste to get him horizontal, she failed to give him a chance to step out of the uniform sitting in a heap at his feet.

As such, they barely took two steps before falling comically onto her mattress, him wrapping his arms around her waist and her with her hands pressed to his chest.

“Shit,” she cursed. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” he said in a strained voice. “Just—let me catch my breath, before we move onto more…enjoyable activities.”

She sat back and he shifted under her, better positioning himself on her bed. As soon as he was fully on the bunk, she shifted forward again, perching herself on his lap and suppressing the urge to grind against his groin—especially knowing how much the lace of her underwear would drive him crazy.

His hand settled on her own leg and slid up until it settled at her waist. For a minute, she continued to admire him again—watching the way the muscles of his chest and stomach moved as he breathed, quickly at first and eventually evening out—until he squeezed her side. 

“Now where were we?” he finally asked, voice low and husky as he peered up at her from her pillow. It was probably just the low light, but his eyes somehow seemed even darker. 

“Mmm, somewhere about…here?” she replied as she shifted forward, now taking the time to press her core against his—and grinning at the groan she pulled from him in the process.

“You bloody minx,” he purred as she hovered above him, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders. “You take pleasure in torturing me?”

“You know I do,” she tossed back; they were both fully aware he could sense her amusement.

“And here I thought this was a social call. May as well send me to the brig if all you’re going to do is punish me.”

“Not tonight.” (Though she did have a pair of handcuffs somewhere.) “I’d rather not deal with the subsequent officer’s report.”

His hand slid around to her back and he pressed her against him. She sucked in a breath at the slight friction of her lace bra against her nipples. “That would be an awful waste of time. And so is this conversation.” And then he silenced her with his lips atop hers. 

Barely-clothed make outs were nothing new for them, but Emma never tired of the way they gradually keyed each other up as their own personal arousals increased and fed off the other; the way Killian moaned and whimpered as she pressed her hips against his only furthered it. 

At some point, his hand found its way to the clasp of her bra, and in a well-practiced motion, he undid it, then kissed his way down her left shoulder while sliding the strap down. She hated to put any distance between them when they were in the thick of things, but raised herself a few inches—just enough to get the garment off and toss it aside. 

She was about to lean back in when the world suddenly spun around on her; when it settled, she was on her back on the other side of the bed, and Killian was hovering above her, smugly. “You know, Swan, I’ve had a craving the last few days that no replicator could ever hope to supply,” he murmured. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He moved so his mouth was near her ear and, much like she had earlier, whispered, “You.” His hot breath on her overheated skin made her tingle with delight; Killian’s subsequent shiver told him he felt it, too. 

Like he did earlier, he worked his way down her abdomen, placing kisses as he went (and spending no short amount of time caressing her bosom with both hand and mouth). But when he got to her hips, he gestured for her to raise them. She complied, and he gently—almost reverently—placed hook and fingers under the waistband of her panties and guided them down, like he was carefully unwrapping a gift (which, given his previous confession, he probably was).

Ever the romantic, he even pressed a kiss to her ankle as he pulled the lace undergarment completely off. (She’d chastise him later for chucking it over by his scrunched-up uniform.) And then his hungry eyes held hers as he lowered himself off the end of the bed, back down over her sex. 

He breathed on her, and she shivered—both at the hot air and in anticipation. Even he had to close his eyes and take a moment before doing anything else; her own arousal was clearly affecting him. (And she loved it.)

(Yes, she was capable of using that word. Just not in all contexts.)

He gave an initial lick at her folds, making her toes curl. Then he went back in with his talented tongue and started to slowly work her up, and she gave herself over to bliss as he went. 

Every move he made brought her more and more pleasure. Emma was no stranger to flings and one-night stands, but none of them were ever as giving of lovers as Killian, and she made sure she repaid it in kind. 

Not just yet, though—actually, they needed to slow down. Because the closer she got to her peak, the closer he did, too; that was something they’d figured out long ago. (But again—it was nice knowing that the quickest way for your lover to come was to make you come, too; more than she could say for quite a few other people now in command across the fleet.) 

As her heart rate picked up and breathing grew deeper, she could feel him begin to stutter in his movements as his own climax drew near. 

It almost pained her to do, but this was a marathon, not a race; she needed him to last all night. “Hey,” she said, and propped herself up on her elbows enough to pull her sex away from his face. His eyes were closed, but he was pouting. She sat up enough to reach down and run her fingers through his hair, which had fallen across his forehead. “Together?”

He blinked his eyes open and had a soft look, despite what they were in the middle of. “Aye, together,” he answered, and crawled back above her. 

They were familiar enough with each other’s bodies that it didn’t take much effort for him to find her entrance and press his length in, and she knew just what angle to prop her hips at to make it effortless. 

His hand again found her hip as they both reveled a moment in the feeling of being joined. She wasn’t sure she’d ever admit it, but those were the moments when she truly understood the whole imzadi thing—regardless of their physical position, she’d never felt so connected, so in tune with Killian as she did then. And it was something more important to her than she cared to admit. 

The careful way Killian was placing kisses on her jaw suggested he felt similarly; those were the times when she wished she was as aware of his emotions as he was of hers, but at least he was far more communicative when it came to those things than she was. (She’d never asked, but she often wondered if part of being empathic was wearing your own heart on your uniform sleeve.)

Her thought process was taking her down a path she wasn’t ready to go down yet, and she shifted—not uncomfortably, but just to create some friction (more physical than emotional but that was just as likely). He got the hint—not that he really needed it—and began to move. 

The other perk of having a lover who was aware of every turn of your emotional state was that he was almost constantly aware of what she needed—one step ahead. They quickly found their rhythm, well-rehearsed at this point, but she didn’t need to tell him when to go harder or softer or change his angle—he just knew. (For her part, she’d learned to read his own body language and react accordingly; the last thing she wanted to be was a selfish lover.)

All too soon, she was approaching the edge of release again (not that she’d come very far down after their brief pause). Killian’s stilted movements echoed the same. “Come for me, love,” he murmured as he pressed in firmer; as divine as that felt, she was aching to fall. 

She met each of his own subsequent moves, tension rising, rising, rising, until finally—there; she came with a gasp, the waves of pleasure she’d been chasing finally crashing over her. 

And him—his own release was instantaneous, and their cries mingled in the quiet of her quarters (which, thankfully, were soundproof). She could feel him pulse inside her as she dug her heels into his lower back, mostly as an anchor, lest she float away in space as they succumbed to their shared bliss. 

Orgasms always seemed to last longer with Killian; even after he’d pulled out and set her down, they both were on a physical high for some time after, and lay there, wrapped around each other, until they came down. 

(She loved it. And that was all she’d say.)

Their breaths eventually evened out, in time with one another’s; she sometimes wondered if their hearts beat in syncopation, too, but figured that was just the hopeless romanticism of her best friend (and the ship’s counselor) Mary Margaret rubbing off on her. 

“I’d ask if that was good, but…” he started, but she could hear as much as see his smirk. 

“You know it was.” She slapped him playfully on his bare shoulder, but noticed that his eyes were starting to regain their blue color. “You know everything.”

“It’s nice to hear you finally admit it,” he teased. 

She just chuckled and curled into him a bit more. It was a little more lovey-dovey than she’d usually do, but…it was Killian. Loathe as she was to admit it, every one of their encounters like this let him more and more inside her walls; maybe not fully breaking them down, but giving him more and more access. 

And the fact that it was just between them helped. She was a pretty private person, especially with the role she held on the ship, and wasn’t ready for the world to start making any other sort of commentary or assumptions about her. She hadn’t even told Mary Margaret. (And god forbid the captain ever found out; Liam was known for running a tight ship and she could only imagine the reaction if he ever found out two of his senior officers, one of them being his brother, were sleeping together.)

“What are you thinking, love?” he asked softly. “I can read your emotions, not your thoughts; but something is on your mind.”

“Yeah,” she started. “How do you manage to keep this,” she gestured across the minimal space between them, “away from your brother? Especially with your whole telepathy thing?” Betazoids as a species were telepathic; the fact that the Jones brothers had a human mother hadn’t changed that, but limited their abilities to only communicating with others of Betazoid descent.

“I don’t,” he answered casually.

“You what?” she whisper-yelled.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t hope to keep this out of my thoughts, Swan.”

“Killian—he’s my commanding officer!”

“Aye; mine, too. And he doesn’t care.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No. He says he much prefers this than the alternative, which is us constantly being at the other’s throat.” She blushed at that, because it was true—prior to their first coming together, they fought incessantly (which, looking back, was probably due to the attraction they’d both been denying). 

“Okay, but you don’t tell him all the details, do you?”

“Of course not; you know I don’t kiss and tell. But I rarely have to; he says you’re usually fairly happy after the fact.”

“Oh my god,” she complained, burying her face in her hands. “I might as well write ‘I just had sex’ on my uniform.”

He laughed—that deep, low thing she loved, reverberating across his chest as he pulled her towards him. “You’re not denying the happy part.”

“We both know that’d be a lie.”

“Mm, true,” he agreed, and pressed a kiss against her temple.

She had planned on going in for round two, but fatigue was gradually taking over, paired with the sense of safety she only felt when she was in his arms.

He wasn’t going anywhere, she knew; they could do more later. So for now, she’d rest, close to the one person who meant more to her than anyone else.

(That much she could admit.)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Killian loved these nights with Emma. He loved the way she’d seek him out, teasing him as soon as she found him. He loved the bit of subterfuge they had to perform to cover for their meetings. He loved the way they came together so perfectly.

He loved her—his darling imzadi. He knew the title weighed heavy on her at times, but she’d never tried to reject it; in the time since it’d been bestowed on her, she seemed to appreciate it more and more, even returning it.

They’d never discussed anything deeper about their relationship—it definitely was one, of a sort, but they both had baggage that made them hesitate. He’d never said out loud the extent of his feelings, but had a sense she was aware and was stubbornly ignoring it—both his and her own.

The perk of being an empath was being able to read her easily; but it was both a blessing and a curse at times, too. Because in these quiet, shared moments, he could sense the way she felt about him—and she loved him just as deeply as he loved her.

Knowing that was enough for him, for now; maybe someday, they’d finally be able to say the words aloud to each other. Just not yet.

Until then, he was content to hold her close and be at her side, like they were now. As she drifted off to sleep, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, hoping that expressed everything he felt. Her lips curled into a smile; his did the same, and he let sleep claim him as well—while also plotting a way to escape from her quarters in the morning unseen.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic  @phiralovesloki @thisonesatellite @iverna  @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture  @wingedlioness @word-bug  @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default  @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich  @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @deckerstarblanche​

[cetra]

Was tagged by a few lovely people (in order: @bg3 @mythrae and @camelliagwerm) to make my BG3 OCs in this Picrew. thank you guys!! I..... okAy so I only have one BG3 OC that i've played as so far unfortunately (Although i do have plans for a Gith character in my co-op playthrough with Fray) SO you all get a bonus Killian 🧡 I'm actually not sure who hasn't been tagged in this one yet since i've been seeing it make the rounds so if you haven't been tagged already, consider this your tag and enjoy my boys

Malachy (he/him)— from Baldur's Gate 3. Half-elf, submissive Dark Urge, Rogue/fighter, neutral to chaotic evil, 💚 Lae'zel

Killian (he/him)— from my original fantasy world. Human, Rogue, center of an ancient prophecy, Revolutionary, kind and intelligent man turned ruthless liberator and tactician

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

Joella Fairwinter:

Character Profile and Backstory, Including her Shared History with Astarion

I needed to infodump about this to people, damn it! Let me tell you about BG3!Joey and how instead of how it is in canon, she and Astarion have an entire decade of prior history with each other prior to the events of the game.

Name: Joella Fairwinter

Nickname: Joey

Gender: Cis Female (She/Her Pronouns)

Age: 63 (Developmental roughly equivalent to a human in their early to mid thirties, but does suffer from a chronic case of baby face that runs in her family)

Neurotype: Autistic

Race: High Half-Elf (Human Father, High Elf Mother)

Class: Sorcerer (Wild Magic)

Occupation: Apothecary

Home: Baldur’s Gate

Family: Lelia Fairwinter (Mother, Age 470), Johan Wise (Father, Age 92), Freya Fairwinter (Maternal Half-Sister, Alive but Never Met), Killian Fairwinter (Uncle), Faelynn Fairwinter (Aunt), Theron Fairwinter (Cousin), Marcus Shorehand (Distant Cousin), Holston Shorehand (Distant Cousin)

Friends of Note: Lys Du Claire* (Half-Wood Elf Urban Ranger), Lukyan (Tiefling Paladin), Merl (Familiar, a Large Tuxedo Cat)

*Is another one of my BG3 Player Characters

Personality Traits – Kind, Accepting, Patient, Loyal, Honest, Anxious, Stubborn, Perfectionistic, Emotionally Self-Effacing, Hates Conflict

Backstory:

63 years prior to the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, Joey was born to the Magistrate Lelia Fairwinter and her husband of the time, the bard Johan ‘Robinsong’ Wise in the city of Baldur’s Gate. Due to her mother coming from a well to do background, Joey’s early childhood was very comfortable and insular. However, that changed quite a bit, when her mother and father, in spite loving in each other very much, could no longer live together (due to incompatible ways of living which clashed against one another). While they didn’t divorce, they did separate, and Johan returned to his life as a commoner (albeit it with some money given to him by his wife at her insistence). Due to an agreement between her parents, Joey was shuttled between them throughout the rest of her childhood and adolescence, growing up in a world that was not a mix of human and elven culture, but of common and noble society as well.

Eventually, Joey took interest in the Apothecary trade, much to her mother’s surprise (and disappointment). Eventually, after a series of different living arrangements, she came to live with a maternal aunt, uncle, and cousin (who are poorer relations compared to the rest of that side of the family). Eventually, as her father came into old age and needed some help around the house, he was taken into the household as well. She considered her life defined by working in the apothecary shop, caring for her elderly father, and doing her best to master her rather volatile magical gifts. In her spare time, she spent time with friends or indulged in a good book.

However, a peculiar turns of events sent her life on a strange and frightening trajectory she never expected- entwined her fate to a man people in her circle believed to be dead and buried. And it started 10 years ago, in an upscale tavern where she was to meet a friend of hers.

While her friend had yet to appear, Joey encountered a rather mysterious and… peculiar man during the wait. He introduced himself as ‘Astarion’, and proceeded to have a brief conversation with her, clearly attempting to flirt with her and even attempting to coax her away with him. Joey found herself rather flustered and flabbergasted, but managed to utter a polite refusal. Her friend appeared, and Astarion quickly lost interest, fixing his attentions on another patron across the way. The rest of the evening was uneventful, and as far as Joey was concerned it was hardly anything of note. Just… a bit strange.

However, when she related the story back to her cousin the next day, he was rather intrigued. He had a late friend by the name of Astarion. He had been a colleague of Joey’s mother, a fellow magistrate and peer, and because they worked in the same courthouse and both had a penchant for quick jabs and a good laugh, her cousin and Astarion had become good friends. Her cousin remarks that perhaps she would have liked to meet his friend, although it’s hard to say whether the two would have gotten along.

Once again, it was interesting, but it was nothing Joey really thought on at first.

However, she ran into ‘her’ Astarion again after that first night. Quite a few times actually. At first, he didn’t seem too keen to interact with her compared to when they first met. Although he tolerated her presence. Eventually however, he seemed to cautiously come out of his shell, be more friendly with her. Even so, he seemed to keeps his cards close to his chest. Even after the time they spent, it occurred to Joey she still knew very little about him. Aside from his personality – he was confident, flirtatious and vain, with a penchant for threatrics, and had something of an uncaring/cruel streak at times. But she also learned something about him- that he wasn’t used to simple and genuine kindness. She wondered how much of what he presented to the world was genuine. Because it seemed like when her kindness caught him off guard… it seemed to reveal something else was underneath. Someone who was more afraid and uneasy than he let on, someone who had been hurt. Who may still be hurting.

And he never lingered too long around her. Although some nights he lingered longer than others.

She would have liked to think and she and Astarion became friends of a sort. They were amicable, and over time, he seemed to lose a bit of his cruel streak, at least around her, and he revealed himself to be a more wary, cynical, and uncertain sort. But he also revealed that her kindness was appreciated. He warned her she was naive for trusting someone like him, but he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate her willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt all the same.

This went on for a number of years, until one day, she went to go visit her mother at the courthouse she worked at currently, as she had moved districts.

Joey was waiting for her in the hall, eyeing the portraits of former judges. And she was startled when her eyes fell on a portrait with a remarkably familiar face.

… Astarion?

Indeed, the man in the portrait was of striking resemblance to the man she had known for some years now. He looked just like him, save for the fact he wasn’t quite so pale, and his eyes were a deep, dark gold instead of a bloody red. He still had a bit of an air of vanity about him but he seemed…. Softer. More approachable.

She read the name plate, and indeed the given named inscribed for the individual in the portrait was ‘Astarion’.

What was going on here?

Her mother emerged from her chambers and found Joey examining the portrait, which led to a conversation where she asked about the late Magistrate. Who was he, as far as her mother knew? What was he like? … How did he die?

It was most curious. The portrait and the man she knew were so alike. A rather ludicrous thought occurred to her.

Was it possible that her Astarion and the late Magistrate were one at the same? That he was somehow not dead? How was he still alive? Why was he hiding out in places at night and letting others believe he was dead?

Was he up to no good? Or was he in trouble of a sort? What she heard from others led her to believe he was once upstanding so… what happened?

He had been so reluctant to talk about himself… why? This led to her doing a sort of unofficial ‘investigation’ of sorts, with the help of a pair of friends (Lys and Lukyan) to perhaps unearth the mystery of Astarion. And once she knew the truth, she was going to confront Astarion about it. That was her plan.

However, after some time into this endeavor, things came to a sudden, grinding halt on multiple fronts.

Joey’s friend, Lukyan, came to warn her away from continuing the investigation. He did not expect it at the time, but their probing had caught the attention of some influential folks whose feathers were dangerous to ruffle, and it was best not to ruffle them further. He could not in good conscience continue to help her, and he tried to discourage Lys from doing so either (he overheard something from a noble who, as would later be discovered, was connected to Cazador).

Second, Astarion suddenly grew cold to her, acting contemptuous of her presence, seeming eager to be rid of her. It hurt, but what hurt the most about it, was when she asked if she had done something, he simply told her he’d simply grown tired of her. (Unbeknownst to her, this was a lie said to push her away for her safety, as Astarion believed she was increasingly in danger of coming to the attention of someone who could hurt or kill her, or worse, destroy her and make her just like him. As it would turn out, he was right.)

Her company spurned, and her friends trying to pull her back from her endeavor, Joey was feeling powerless and lost. But, soon, she was about to be made even more powerless and left feeling afraid and uncertain. For one night, as she was walking home, she was attacked. She managed to fend off her attacker, being forced to kill them in self-defense. But when she examined them afterward, she discovered she had been set up by a Vampire (well, a Vampire Spawn, but still). And in that examination of the body, she remembered something. Certain peculiarities about Astarion began to click into place. The eyes, his complexion, the strange scar that looked like puncture marks in his neck. The fact she only seemed to be able to find him after sundown. The way he seemed particularly obsessed with necks. And come to think of it… had she ever seen his reflection?

No… it couldn’t be, could it?

She had come to another ludicrous conclusion. But after the attack, she was wounded, and needed to rest before she did anything. She would also need to be vigilant, should she be attacked again.

Thankfully, she managed to rest up at home without disturbance. But she wasn’t so sure she was truly safe.

Unfortunately things were about to go very, very wrong. Only a day after she recovered from her injuries, the city of Baldur’s Gate was attacked by a Mind Flayer ship that emerged from a portal that opened up in the sky. Buildings were destroyed, people were injured, and many were abducted by the vessel. And after sacrificing herself by putting herself in the way of a tentacle reaching for her father, she found herself among the abducted, imprisoned in a pod upon the ship.

She was subsequently infected with a mind flayer parasite. But little did she know, Astarion himself was also snatched and infected as well, and just as their paths had been forced to part, they would be forced to cross again when an opportunity presented itself for her to escape her captivity.

What would happen at their inevitable reunion? With their fates intertwining once again, how would their decade old bond grow and change? What sorts of new allies would they meet, entreat, and befriend? And how would each of them change each other and those around them, both within and without?

It is all yet to be seen.

[thiefbird]

Got tagged by @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas to do this picrew for my Dragon Age OCs!

Dirthail Mahriel(he/him) - canon romance is Morrigan for DAO, and he ends up the center of a complicated polycule later(in a relationship with Alistair, Anders, and Morrigan, none of whom are involved with each other). He's a Reaver/Berserker/Bloodmage(bc i do what I want)

Killian Amell(he/him) - no canon romance for DAO, though he has a fling with Zevran. Post DAO romanced Loghain. He's a Shapeshifter/Bloodmage/Arcane Warrior!

Raeneth Hawke(they/them) - half-elf!Hawke, canon romances are Anders and Merrill. They're a Force/Blood mage!

Fen'len Lavellan(he/they) - canon romance is Solas and Iron Bull. He is a Necromancer (and also a blood mage, but Inquisition is Mean and won't let me actually play as one)

Tagging anyone who wants to do it(please show me your babies!!!)

[awritingcaitlin]

Find the Word Tag

It was only after I set up that whole post and queued it up that I realized I used Tana's words and not the ones she tagged me for so HERE WE GO AGAIN WITH MY WORDS. (sorry @tananaphone lol) (but am I?)

MY ACTUAL WORDS ARE rope, gain, force, light, safe

Have snippets from Siege of Berthingtonn, for something different!

GAIN 🧝🏻‍♀️

Riela, of course, showed her age differently. She was still too young to have gained the ageless look elves and part elves had. Rinnie barely felt like she herself had gained that. But maybe that was only because she still felt young in comparison to many other elves she interacted with regularly. Regardless, Riela was definitely not more than fifty, and Rinnie would be surprised to learn if she was more than thirty. She was an otherwise thin and fit-looking woman who never seemed to stop moving. She kept her brown hair pulled back into a braid and while she smiled to everyone, it only looked genuine to few.

.

FORCE ✨

“Yes!” Rinnie hissed. “I have a plan.” She wet her hands in the sink and ran them through her hair to freshen it. “I’m going to ask Evianne to force some honesty into this conflict and make the cleric stop cheating. Once that’s taken care of, it’ll turn into her being pretty versus me being pretty. And then we’ll see whose flirting game is better.” She smoothed her skirts. “And ladies and gentlemen, no one beats my flirting.”

“Weren’t you worried about them recognizing you?” Nathaniel asked.

“Well, if they do before I can do my thing, it’s going to be a fight. But we were preparing ourselves for that anyway. As it is, I’m banking on her chalking her problems up to an off-night and moving on.”

“Steep bet,” Nathaniel warned.

“Got anything better that doesn’t involve a gunfight in a bar?” Rinnie asked.

.

LIGHT 🔍

“Suppose you do find her,” Risingblock said. “The airship is still leaving tonight.”

“Are you to tell me that you were just going to leave her here?” Kanjo asked angrily. “You already said you were calling back the current teams in a few hours.”

“After a certain point, we have to accept our losses and move forward,” Risingblock said. “We are bringing this Embassy down to a skeleton crew in light of the events of the other night.”

Kanjo gritted his teeth. “May I remind you that you do not write my paycheck, she does.” He slammed his palm down on Risingblock’s desk for emphasis. “You surely have a trail planned, we’ll go back then. Or, I’ll buy airship tickets and get them reimbursed. I will not leave Berthingtonn until I have found Rin, or I’ve found her corpse.”

.

SAFE 😥

Riela sighed. “I don’t want Berthingtonn to fall like Asnany did.”

Rinnie’s look turned horrified. “Were you there when it fell?”

Riela snorted. “You assume I’m older than I look. Half elf I may be, but I’m still young. My parents resisted the Nidtrins. As punishment, they took me away to try to brainwash me. It didn’t work.”

“You were too stubborn,” Rinnie surmised.

“That’s part of it,” Riela said. “My parents also kept in contact with me through various means. A group of Evianne clergy helped parents get in contact with their kids. They tried to break us all out when I was eleven. My parents died getting me out. Before she died, my mom told me to run to Berthingtonn where I’d be safe.” She closed her eyes. “Well, I’m here, but it’s no longer safe.”

.

ROPE 😬

“So, we’re taking the stairs, Sir?” Sergeant Obrix, a short, but broad, Berthan infantryman asked.  

“Unless someone’s hiding a grappling hook and some rope somewhere, yes,” Killian answered.

“Sir,” Adler began slowly. “Isn’t that one of the most dangerous things you can do in a city fight?”

He hated, hated, asking that. He hated asking something that could potentially undermine Killian’s authority, over soldiers Killian didn’t know well. Adler was also certain that this was a near-suicidal order, one Killian would not have given in his right mind.

“Yup,” Killian replied. “But unless you have a better idea you’d like to share with the class, this is what we’re going to do.”

.

tagging @pinespittinink, @sentfromwolves, @muddshadow, @tananaphone (reverse uno) and @golden-heretic for the words: age, honesty, find, fell, slow

[liltaz-asatreat]

Ask game! Ask game! Ask game!

"Fire" for the WIP asks please

You can find the ask game here! :D (Feel free to send a word in! I probably won't get to it until tomorrow though lol)

(And don't worry, Noodyl, I saw your other ask too, but I have multiple works with "fire" in it, so I'm gonna do both :D lol)

I don't remember if you've seen the few posts about this wip either, but this is from the new long term wip I'm writing called Double Troubles! If you haven't heard of it before, I can send you a link to where I talked about it more in depth :)

Anyway, here's the exert, and I'm adding a bit more than what I've been sharing with the other asks (like, a lot more, so much that it's the length of most of the Julia exerts I've posted lol) because I haven't shared a lot of this one, and I'm excited about this whole scene (it's gotta go under a readmore though):

(Also, credit to @institute-of-planar-shitposts for letting me use her taz OC, Sunshine, in my story [only in this bit she's only referenced as the half-elf bard Meadow saw in a tavern in the past] and the song Meadow sings is Could Have Been Me by The Struts [which I first learned of this song by watching Sunny's Sunshine tiktok using the song here] And you should totally check out the stuff Sunny's shared about her story she's writing about Sunshine!! I think she has it tagged as "Sunshine" on her blog and I have all the reblogs tagged "Sunshine tag! :D" on mine)

Meadow grabs Magnus' hand, and he helps him out of the well and onto solid ground. He looks around, still trembling, and...

It's just gone.

Everything is... it's just gone.

The only things left where Phandalin once stood are the charred remains of buildings standing at the very edge of a perfect circle of black glass and, in the epicenter of the circle, a burned out dwarven figure standing with his right arm raised in the air and on the end of it is the silvery gauntlet.

This has got to be enough evidence to know that he's cursed, right? Would this still have happened if he hadn't been anywhere near this?

“Meadow, I– I know, but I need help getting the others out,” Magnus says, disrupting his thoughts and delaying the inevitable doom spiral that he surely will go down later.

“Right. Yes, of course.” Meadow mumbles, and he grabs the part of the rope Magnus offers him before Magnus gets behind him with the end of it to act as an anchor.

Together they manage to help the other boys out of the well, and then all four of them work together to pull Killian out too. After they drag her a few feet away from it, they all stop and look at each other in silence.

“So what now?” Taako asks, and Meadow laughs a little hysterically.

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Well, we can't leave the gauntlet here,” Merle says as he looks over at it with his hands on his hips.

At this rate, Meadow's going to become a Pokémon master of super powerful, indestructible artifacts because he has a funny feeling that the gauntlet is going to be just as resistant to everything as the amulet is.

“Killian was looking for it and knew what it was, so she must have some sort of way to contain it,” Magnus says.

“I don't trust her to take it no matter if she has something to contain it or not,” Meadow says immediately.

The others look at him questioningly. “Why not?” Merle asks. “She definitely knows more about it than we do and wanted to avoid this happening.”

Fuck!

“Uh... Because I–” Meadow sighs. “I've seen something like this before.”

“Wait, you have?” Magnus asks incredulously.

“Well, why didn't you tell us what was going to happen then?!” Merle asks angrily.

“Yeah, any information could've helped, Dow!” Taako agrees, and Meadow winces.

“I– I didn't know this was going to happen!” he says defensively. “I didn't even know it was like the– the other artifact I saw once a few years ago until it was too late!”

Taako and Merle scoff, but Magnus' face relaxes slightly. “Do you know anything about it that could help us now?”

Meadow licks his lips nervously and nods slightly. “Yeah, uh... the other artifact like it... It takes over the will of whoever is using it like the gauntlet did with Gundren. And it's really powerful and really hard to beat the temptation to put it on and use it; I... I'm the only person I know of who's been able to handle something like that without using it.”

“Well that's convenient,” Taako says sarcastically.

“I mean, it's true!” Meadow says desperately. “I'll even say it under a Zone of Truth spell if I need to! Look–”

He takes a deep breath, his heart hammering wildly as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the amulet. It's a deep green emerald shaped into a teardrop with silver trim, and it's set on a thin golden chain. He holds it up by the chain to let the boys look at it, and it starts whispering again.

“What the hell?” Merle asks quietly. He reaches out to grab it, but Meadow yanks it away.

“No! You can see it with your eyes, but don't– don't touch it.” he says in a panic.

“What did that do that was just as bad as the gauntlet?” Magnus asks, tearing his eyes away from the necklace to look at him.

He fights the urge to look away from him, mostly because he needs to keep an eye on all of them to make sure they don't lunge for it. “I... I don't want to talk about it,” he says quietly. “Please just... just know that... it was bad, okay? I've been trying to find a way to destroy it for years now, and nothing's worked, so I have to keep it on me. And I guess– I guess also that gauntlet.”

Meadow stuffs the amulet back into his pocket, and Taako eyes him warily.

“Don't you have a spell that identifies what magic objects are?” he asks. “You were buzzing to cast it on the umbrella and the gauntlet before Gundren took it. Do you think you'd be able to figure out anything else about the glove?”

“I can give it the old college try,” Meadow says with relief. “To be honest, I don't know if I'll get any more useful information from it though if it's made by the same person who made the amulet because I tried casting it on that too, but all I got from it was a really intense headache.”

Taako frowns. “Weird. You sure you were casting it correctly?”

Meadow rolls his eyes. “Yes, Taako, I was casting it correctly. It's not like that was my first time casting the damn spell.”

“Well, while you go do that, we'll tie up Killian, so that when we wake her up, we can get more information from her about what she was doing here in the first place,” Magnus says.

“Yeah, good idea!” Merle says. “I can heal her after you do that.”

“Is it alright if I come with you to the gauntlet?” Taako asks, and Meadow's shoulders tense up again before he quickly adds, “I'll give you space, but I figure just because you were able to pick up the necklace without putting it on, that doesn't mean the glove wouldn't be different.”

Meadow relaxes again as much as they can in this situation and nods. “Yeah, if I start to put it on...” they swallow hard. “If I start to put it on, don't hesitate to kill me, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Taako asks slowly, and they immediately nod.

“Positive. I'd rather die than be allowed to use that thing.” Even if it means they'd die in the Plane of Logic too. They still don't know how that works.

The two of them walk toward the gauntlet, and as they do, Meadow looks around the area more carefully. They were convinced while being awake in the other plane that Barry would be okay and able to talk to them after he died, but he's obviously not here anymore. They have no idea what they meant by that or what they should even be looking for, but if Barry was a ghost or something, he should still be here, right?

Taako peels off to the side as Meadow gets within five feet of the glove. They stop walking and look around the empty field of glass one last time.

Just more proof that they don't know what their talking about up in that other plane.

Meadow sighs and focuses back on the gauntlet. They take a few tentative steps forward when it starts speaking in their mind.

“Heeeyyy, buddy! Hey, buddy, put me on! Haven't you ever wanted to control fire? To know how it feels to hold that kind of power? I can help you defeat your enemies and protect the people you love!”

Meadow snorts with scorn. “I don't have anyone left on this plane that I love, not anymore, and I don't have any enemies either,” they say quietly, so that Taako doesn't hear. “You can fuck right off.”

They feel a wave of desire and enchantment magic wash over them, but they resist it with relative ease. After the wave passes, the gauntlet becomes quieter, and they feel more confident walking up and grabbing it.

They look over at Taako who looks tense with his wand out, and they give him a thumbs up. “It's all good!” they call out. “I'm gonna cast the spell now, but it's gonna be about ten minutes.”

Taako looks both a little relieved and a little annoyed. “You're casting it as a ritual? Just use a spell slot on it, we don't have all night!”

“I don't have any spell slots left,” Meadow says helplessly. “I only get mine back after sleeping and resting for about eight hours.”

Taako shakes his head and sits down on the ground. “Well, I can't leave you here by yourself, so start casting I guess.”

Meadow sits down too and holds the gauntlet in one hand as they go for their bag before they stop themself and put their other hand back down on their knee.

They can't play their clarinet one handed, so it looks like they're going to have to sing.

They mentally shuffle the songs that they know that are somewhere close to the forefront of their mind, and they settle on a song they first heard a half-elf bard sing in a tavern close to the Fountain Pens and Silver Ink guild hall. Makes sense that would be the one to come up considering the situation, and gods do they need the pick me up.

“I don't wanna live as an untold story,” they begin singing quietly. “Rather go out in a blaze of glory. I can't hear you, I don't fear you–”

“Are you going to start casting yet?” Taako calls out to them, and they stop singing and sigh in frustration.

“I mean, I already was until you interrupted me!” Meadow calls back, and as they do, the faint glow of golden light that was starting to surround the glove fades away again.

“I thought you cast spells with your clarinet or whatever,” Taako says.

“Yeah, usually! But I can't exactly play it one handed, so I'm singing!”

Taako frowns. “You are? You're not that far away, and I couldn't hear you.”

“I don't like singing in front of people; I told you that already. And I don't need to sing loud for it to work.” Meadow says irritatedly.

“You were singing Bohemian Rhapsody just fine with us in the cave!”

“Because everyone who knows that song sings it at the top of their lungs whether they sound good or not. It's literally impossible to not sing that one quietly!” they say as they roll their eyes.

“You didn't even know everyone knew it until Magnus told you that and Killian recognized it!” Taako says exasperatedly.

Meadow's face heats up in anger and embarrassment. “Do you want me to fucking cast this spell or not?”

“Yeah, fine, do your thing.” Taako waves them off, and they roll their eyes again.

“I don't wanna live as an untold story. Rather go out in a blaze of glory. I can't hear you, I don't fear you! I'll live now 'cause the bad die last. Dodging bullets with your broken past. I can't hear you, I don't fear you now!”

Meadow continues singing as the gauntlet begins to glow gold again, and as they sing, the light gets brighter and brighter until it steadies out at about the brightness of a halogen light bulb. They loop the song a couple of times until the spell is complete, trying to take to heart the fact that they can't hear the gauntlet nor fear it and ignore the fact that they are very much wrapped up in regret, and all at once, they're bombarded with what could only be described as static.

Their vision goes gray, and not in the way where everything turns gray-scale. Literally all they see is the color gray with different shades of it moving around like the static on a TV when they switch to the wrong channel. They can also hear that TV static noise loud in their ears, and they yelp in panic as they drop the glove and cover their ears instinctively. Their brain feels like fuzz, and they get slammed with a massive headache.

They squeeze their eyes shut tight and rock back and forth, still covering their ears and trying not to cry at how overwhelmingly loud, overstimulating, and painful it all is.

After about a minute, everything slowly starts to fade again, and it leaves their ears ringing more than usual and their heart still thumping wildly with anxiety.

“Meadow? Can you hear me?”

They feel someone put a gentle hand on their arm, and they jump in the air so bad as they recoil that they tip over and fall on their side.

Their eyes snap open as they see Taako standing over them looking worried.

“Sorry, it's just, you screamed a little and started... doing that–” He gestures at them helplessly. “–and then you didn't respond.”

“Oh, yeah, um... sorry about that,” they mumble, face heating up a lot as they push themself back up into a sitting position.

“Are– are you okay?” Taako asks. “Did the gauntlet do something to you?”

Meadow shakes their head. “No– I mean, yes, I'm okay, but no, the gauntlet didn't do anything to me exactly. I just... I didn't get anything from the spell except static. A lot of it. And it was painful.”

Taako frowns. “Like how we can't hear Killian static?”

Meadow thinks about that for a second. “Actually, yes. A lot like that.”

[trucbiduleschouettes]

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

This but with a twist. List one favourite thing and why, for each of your OC's that you feel like we should get to know better!

I'm not on my computer so this one will go doodle less pfff

Also I will have to limit it a bit still since having +200 OCs make it hard to not want most of them to be known better pff

-Laïg: her favourite thing is sewing because it reminds her of when she was still a normal half elf, living with her seamstress mother

-Mellow: She really likes her pendant as it is a gift from her murdered younger brother, back when he was still full of hope and dreams

-Lost: her favourite thing is saving someone's life, because she was forced for years to kill blindly for entertainment of others and her own survival, and she prefers to stop blood from being shed rather than make it run.

-Tarmenel: His favourite thing is painless days, when he gets to fully enjoy his duty as king and spend time with his family as well without the threat of ending up bedridden.

-Telundill: creative process and smithing especially. She just is fascinated with it and she is pig headed enough that she got herself the apprenticeship she wanted, with the rest adapting the tools to her missing arm so that she can works with as little issues as possible.

-Killian: being a librarian, books, and knowing how pissed his father is still about him refusing to join the marines to instead work for a big library. His second favourite thing is to piss off his younger sister, Katellig, because he is a Big Brother and knows best how to annoy her.

-Sweet: Her favourite thing is night at sea, just sitting on deck while the non elves are asleep, enjoying the quietness and fresh air. She loves life as a pirate, but does like her moments of quietness.

-Galaad: his favourite thing is Feywilds tea leaves, especially to drink alongside bread he baked himself- he is just an extremely old man who enjoy simple joys the most. The tea also reminds him of his ex husband who he may or may not get back together with post campaign -

-Lage: one of Niquis' dads. He loves taxidermy - both as his job and as a hobby. He is very anxious by nature but being on his own working on this helps him relax a lot. He enjoys it even more now that Niquis grew and enjoyed it as well, and they can hold shop together.

-Kassi: Niquis' other dad. His favourite thing is waking up first to see Lage still peacefully asleep and drooling over the pillow. He also is very fond of Niquis pretending to be asleep in the morning so that he can pretend to wake her up as well. He's just very fond of his family.

[the-dragon-folk]

Super Loose Dragon age Origin OC breakdown sheet

My computer's been dead (and still kind of is) for a month after... the milk incident, so I've only had the opportunity to play through Partha, and I do want to re-run her since she was my first playthrough. All of these come with a grain of salt and a lot of opportunity to be changed Warden Partha Aeducan: True to the Dwarf Noble Origin, kings Alistair, Romances Morrigain (bi rights), and does the dark ritual. The Leader. The World's most cringefail trans girl boss princess <3. She's an incredibly strong and fierce warrior, a real shit brickhouse as far as dwarves go, but also really mentally not doing well, and she expends a lot of energy not confronting this. She's remarkably successful, it's just that she's guessing the entire time and a lot of her choices go against her own, or her friends' wishes, in the name of the "Greater Good," but what that means to her is really unclear. She is so desperate to protect everyone and save Ferelden because she knows its right, but she doubts every choice she makes and so many "good" choices cause a lot more pain. She begins her journey feeling unloved, put-upon and lost and ends her journey feeling unloved, put-upon, and lost <3. She's also batshit a little and spends a lot of time doing really risky shit in a half-hearted attempt to chase death in a very Zevran-esque way aha. She comes out of the Blight an extremely weird unsettling person, and I do spend a lot of time jumping the shark with her. She drinks that weird bottle at Solider's Peak and does The Golems of Amgarrak stuff, if that explains anything. She's a ball of knots and hard to explain quickly. Mingrin: Partha's dog. Really cool guy and good boy.

Warden Judpha: Dwarf Commoner, not Brosca, thruple with Zevran and Killian. Grew up in Dust Town and was the guardian to his niece from a young age and broke when she was murdered. He's effectively ripped apart in Ostagar, and this leaves him short an arm and a leg. His Ostagar trauma makes him entirely unwilling to face the Dark Spawn. Jud start off pretty coarse - particularly with Partha, who he bitterly refers to as "Peace-Keeper" - and he softens up over time. He learns to read and write and becomes the sort of book-keeper of the group.

Warden Killian Tabris: True to the Elf Commoner Origin, thruple with Zevran and Judpha. Killian's a little less developed than the other two, but she's also pretty prickly. She dislikes Partha and Alistair because of their highborn status. She tends to lead a secondary party. I think her story is about her growing from jaded and act-first-questions-later to a more tempered and empathetic leader, as she's left to be Commander of the Grey after Partha disappears. I think Jud and Zevran allow her to soften up and relax a bit. I think she'll probably parallel Partha in a lot of ways. She joins at the same time as Alistair. Warden (Unnamed so far) Mahariel: Likely true to Elf Dalish origin. He'll likely spend a lot of time on the side lines. He joins at the same time as Partha and, when he finds himself entirely alone at Ostagar, goes "why would i die for a bunch of people who don't give two shits about me when I can go home and help my clan??" and immediately high tails it. He comes back up when the wardens come to the Dalish and find him. He gets turned into a werewolf and at the end of it he probably choses to stay and help prepare the Clans for the Dark spawn. He isn't meant to come across as a coward, but just as someone who, rightfully, is more concerned with the immediate future of his loved ones rather than a more abstract Series of Misadventures to Maybe? Save the World. Not to mention, he's alone right off the bat and has no context on how to be a warden.

Warden Surana and Warden Cousland (also both unnammed): Both mostly true to Human Noble & Elf Circle. They're more of a MacGuffin. They're both slightly older wardens than Alistair & Killian. Warden Surana and Cousland survived Ostagar (Likely alongside Killian and Judpha) and immediately went into action. They presume the old treaties are lost with Alistair and decide to go to Soldier's Peak to try and find some sort of hope. When Civil War pressures get real, Cousland makes a plan to use his Nobility status to wed Anora and reign some things back into place. This is what sends Partha on the path to wedding Alistair to Anora. When The Party get to Soldier's Peak, Cousland has been killed and likely so has Warden Surana.

Ameira Surana: Sister to Warden Surana and another Circle Elf. Romances Alistair. She is a prodigious young mage who spent much of her life in her sister's shadow. This allowed her to get away with what she wanted in peace. I forget which exactly was the specific character issue that sent her down her path, but after her sister and Jowan bounce, she does become a practicing Blood mage. she keeps this under wraps for a while and eventually saves Judpha's life with it, so he doesn't say anything about it. She joins the party with Wynne to help the Wardens and eventually falls in love with Alistair, and it's really sweet and smooth up until Partha and Eamon make moves to wed Anora and Alistair. Alistair breaks up with Ameira to try and spare her from everything that is going on. Ameira, devastated by the last 2 years' shenanigans' like every one else, does eventually fireball-blood magic the shit out of Partha and Anora and Judpha is like "hm yeah i guess i should've said something sooner."

[sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shelby]

All my dnd ocs partying together!

There's Grim, the one-armed dwarf fighter. He was my first pc.

Killian, human eldritch knight fighter/wizard. My dearest and longest played charcter.

Realm, tabaxi rogue who speaks to the ghost of her mother, my most recent creation.

Silvi, half-elf bard. my first adventurer to die. I'll love her forever.

Olliander, the halfling bard. Big ego in a small package.

Devvynix, the dragonborn battlemaster fighter/rogue. My evil doofus.

Emery, my nobleborn human ranger, adventuring to make something more of herself than just her title.

And Runa, the human warlock willing to do literally anything to regain power and notoriety. Hence the deal with the devil.

[detectivereads]

Darkbloom Ep 10

Dungeons and Dragons campaign

If you havent read ep 9 click here

Woo first session of the new year!!

Ok this is a lot and there is a lot of fighting and death in this one.

Entering the Ironhold

We left off with both Wittr and Sage meeting up with Ben and his crew to go to Ironhold, the girls after traveling for hours make it to Ironhold it’s about midnight. The girls see a tent and a line of guards, like 20 of them, shields out and swords drawn facing the door of the jail.

The girls see a tent set up not too far from the line, the girls knew that this was going to be HQ for this operation, they go over to the tent and see the man from the library, a male human name Killian.

Ben introduces the group to the people he brought from Havensport (See below for everyone).

The group goes over the plan (Wittr’s player and I were going of over strategy). The girls decided that they should proceeded in, Ben leading one group and Wittr leading the other:

Team A

Ben (Harbor Master, Battle Master) Human Male

Serne Storm (Fighter Maritime Security) Human Female

Gideon Crest (Paladin of Alora) Human Male

Lorelei Tidecaller (Shipwright, Sorcerer) Human Female

Davian Saltblade (Rouge, Helm man) Elf Male

Team B

Wittr Ravendark (Paladin of Torm also fighter) Tiefling Female

Sage Morton (Rogue, Druid, Investigator) Female Half Elf

Killian Grant (fighter but he works with poison and daggers) married to the Librarian.

Isbella Farwatch (Ranger, Huntsman) Female Human Variant (she has like super white skin)

 So, after agreeing on the groups and the course of attack the groups proceeded into Ironhold.

The groups went down a hallway leading to the reception area of the jail, where they met up with some guards and the Warden of Ironhold a mage named Fenrick, the DM describes him having a blue star tattoo on the side of his head. Fenrick and some other mages are making a magical barrier to keep the inmates in the jail, but the Warden and the other mages are exhausted at this point.

Fenrick tells the group that like 20 inmates are beyond the door trying to get out, (the girls received a map of the penitentiary) The girls consulted the map and thought the best way was to sneak around the group and get behind them and start taking the out, giving the magic users a break. So, B team would sneak around and get behind while the A team would stay in case something happens (have the heavy hitters stay with mages and protect them long enough for reinforcement to come in.).

B team goes through the check point (for items and such); Sage looked around for anything that would pinpoint where Blackthorn’s cell was, which she did fines. (Cell 32, which was on the other side of the jail.). The group proceeded to the door, but Sage wanted to make sure that her group was safe before opening the door she pressed her ear up to the door (roll for perception, insight? One of the two.) She rolled high, Sage heard scuttling beyond the room and let the group know that there was something in the room.

(Quick note: the DM said that before Ironhold before it was jail/asylum was place where dangerous beasts were housed and there are some of those critters running around in here.)

Sage and Wittr both looked at each other, Sage squatted down and carefully opened the door while Wittr with shield and trident out and proceeded in the room. The DM asked of the two of us who had the higher intelligence which was Sage.

Dm rolled their dice, they rolled a Nat 1, as Wittr and Sage enter the room something fell from above…it was an intellect devourer. Sage cast Chilling Touch to freeze it, while Wittr threw her trident at it shattering the creature, Killian looked at both girls and said “Excellent.”

B team gets to the room that leads back to the reception area where the warden and his mages are doing their magic thing. Sage gives Killian the sending stone so he can contact A team that B team is going to proceed.

So, Sage with her bright ideas decides that she is going to do something smart, she wild shapes into a bear charge in, hacking and slashing with Wittr joining in the mayhem, A team comes in and cleans up the rest of the people. (Sage had set Owain down in the other room and told him to hide until she comes back, looking after my frog boy.)

Both teams go back into the room (Sage collects Owain.) and they plan on which rooms to tackle both teams agree that and head on out.

Cleaning house

B Team proceeded on to the next room, since Sage has a thing that has worked for the group before the girls started tackling this SWAT team style, Sage would listen at the door and let the rest of the team know if she heard anything and then with Sage being off to the side and opening the door slowly and quietly and Wittr taking point while Killian and Isabella following after the girls.

Now this room Sage heard screaming before and the group proceeded with caution, in this room the group come to see two goblins with a bound guard, the guard was missing his foot, his knees were shattered, and the goblins were stabbing him. Sage yells “ugh!” and shoots Poison Spray at the one on the guard, but she rolled low and the goblin who the Poison Spray was intended for uses the guard as a human meat shield yelling “Ha!” Which Sage was not happy with.

The goblins get dispatched quickly.

After this room the B team checks in, and A Team deals with a riot but they are ok. The groups proceeded on.

Magic Security not so Secure

Room 30, once again Sage listens and opens the door slowly, but triggers a trap wire she jumps back, tackling both Killian and Isabella to the ground and away, while red dust falls, (I don’t remember if anyone got hurt from the dust.) after avoiding the dust an arrow shoots out but Wittr blocks expertly after two more arrows the group sees a guard Killian yells “we are friendly!” the group proceeded in.

Now Sage made the plan to scout out and find the magical security office where they housed the machine that would dampen magic in here for the prisoner, to see if she could amp up the magic damping effects.

Back in the room Wittr and Sage and Killian were looking at the machine asking the guard if there was any damage or has anyone messed with it (The group knew that at one point the damping effect was turn off and that why the explosion and riots happen.) Sage was still dealing with her trust issues with Selena, she looked over at guard and she rolled insight, the DM describes how the guard who was standing next to Isabella, he goes and stabs her with a poison blade.

Sage leaps to action and shoots Poison Spray, but this jerk copying the stupid goblin from the last room uses Isabella as a human meat shield, Wittr attacks after a little bit of fighting Wittr and Sage manages get the upper hand and Sage used her Quiver of Webbing and shoots him and she nails him she quickly runs and stabs him, killing him.

Wittr helps Isabella, Sage goes through the dead guard’s things, still miffed that this guy would have the gall to do this, she finds a letter with a Black Rose seal and the letter pretty much tells this guard on his shift he is to turn off the machine or his family is dead. The guard also had magic cuffs that would cancel magic which Sage swipes.

Reading this Sage and the group feels a little bad. The group continues to the next room checking in with Ben its sound like his group is running into problems, but they are still going strong.

B Team proceeds into the next room (Ok no joke this is my favorite room here I was so happy that we got this room!!!)

So, same old same old listening at the door Sage hears laughing and the sounds of stuff being thrown. Sage whispers to the group that something is going down in the room so quietly, the group sees three prisoners throwing stuff at this huge minotaur that is shackled to the wall, the minotaur looks pissed at these guys. Sage, being a bleeding heart, sneaks up and sneak attacks one guy, Wittr chucks her trident at another jerk wad and Isabella tries shooting the last one and misses, the guy turns round back to turn on the Minotaur and backs up closed to him shocked to see the group there, however the chains were loose enough where the minotaur reaches out grabs the last jerk by his head crushes it like a watermelon.

Sage looks at the minotaur after the head crushing and gives him a thumbs up, Sage sees the minotaur he’s hurt so she gets the idea to cast Cure Wounds on him, but Killian stops her asking “Is this really a good idea, he is chained to the wall, he might be a prisoner.” But Sage counters this with “Yes he might be a prisoner, but he saw us take out the jerks and if I heal him this might get the message across that we are friends, maybe he can help us.” Just then Ben’s group comes in and Ben joins the conversation.

(No joke, the DM was looking at me as if I was nuts trying to convince these guys to let Sage free the minotaur. DM tells me to roll a persuasion and Wittr’s player joins in, so Sage’s persuasion is a +5, I rolled low, but Wittr’s Player gave me a luck point to reroll, so I rerolled got a higher number.)

Ben looks at Lorelei the sorcerer of the group, she pulls out her component pouch and she then cast Comprehend Language, she then begins to talk to the minotaur explains that Sage and Wittr wanted him to join the group to get the riots under controlled with the promise with a reduce jail sentence and he can crush more heads.

All the time behind Lorelei, Sage and Wittr are punching or stabbing the dead bodies looking at him with smiles like “join us”.

He agrees which Sage screams with glee much to the shock of Killian and Ben.

So, B Team gets a new member, Gordo the Minotaur.

The groups continued on, and both teams make it to Blackthorns cell, it was a large cell with some books (Which yes, Sage swipes.) and some graffiti on the walls, Sage couldn’t make heads or tails on it but Wittr with a big stat on religion understood the picture depicted Vecna hand and eye.

So, with Wittr telling the group what she knows about this Sage and Wittr came deduce that Blackthorn is looking for either one or both magic items.

Holy talks and a chance meeting

The groups proceeded on B Team not dealing with too much, the groups meet up a few rooms before the room that leads under the prison, Wittr gets an idea and sees if there is anything evil going on (celestial, fiends, devils) and she sense 1 celestial, 1 fiend and 1 devil.

The celestial is a few rooms away in the asylum portion of the jail, devil is on the right of the jail and the fiend is underground (if I remember correctly.) Sage and Wittr bring the idea up to the group if they can get the celestial on our side, they would have a heavy hitter against the devil or the fiend.

Ben wants to proceed not wanting to lose the chance, Sage and Wittr insist that the celestial is something that they couldn’t pass up, since the uggos and a devil, fiend and Blackthorn and K is some where underground.

Sage looks at Gordo and tells him to go with Ben’s group, A Team would proceed to the room before the room with the staircase that would lead downstairs and wait for the B Team.

B Team gets to the first room of the asylum area, and they see a big dude in a frenzy taking out the prisoners swinging a big axe around, the group waits till he is down Killian recognizes him as the jail executioner. Sage calls out “Friends!” in which the executioner turns slowly point his axe and tells the group don’t come any closer that there is something not right in his head.

The group talks this over if there is something wrong with him maybe they should restrain him so that he would do something that he regrets. The executioner is really tired so Sage, using her web quiver, shoots an arrow up to the ceiling hoping that having him at the disadvantage would give them an edge, Sage doesn’t want a fight.

When the webs start to creep on to him, he thrashes around, and yells “don’t touch him”. Which Sage says “Ok, can you move to the other side of the room so we could pass through.”

Wittr uses one of her paladin spells that pretty much heals his mind, and he is very grateful for this, and he rest for a bit. The Executioner explains that there was a nothics running around a small one and huge one. Due to Wittr’s back story of Nothics wiping out her temple, she on a mission to kill these creatures and she remember from the forest in Windcrest that there was huge one leading the pack. Wittr is ready to kill these creatures.

The group proceeds on, in the next room the group comes face to face with a humanoid creature chowing down on prisoners, with a large eye in the middle of its face, a nothic.

However, the DM explains this one is very small, but Wittr pretty much one hit KO this creature, and the group see at the far end of the room a cell with a person, she is standing in a cell, with her hands bond in magic cuffs, scared.

The group approaches and she begs for the group to release her, Sage looks around the room for a patient clipboard, something that would tell the group who she was and why she was here.

Sage runs back to the room prior where the Executioner was and find her clipboard, the girl’s name is Thistle and she has bouts of hysteria, she was found outside Ironhold near a caravan having an episode where she killed a guard.

Sage tells the group this, which Thistle does admit that she would be do something one minute then blacks out then she is in a different location doing something else. She is scared and wants to go home.

Wittr gets an idea and checks to see if the celestial is possessing her, which it is.

Wittr makes contact and the celestial tells her to leave this girl alone, (outside of the game Wittr’s player and I are going over questions to ask or even asking for its help.) which after explaining to Wittr the celestial is here is to stop the darkness, in which Wittr asks for its aid for that is their mission as well.

Celestial says that help will arrive.

Wittr comes back and explains what happened. Sage is torn, she feels bad for Thistle, but does not want to make a celestial angry and getting into unnecessary fight they leave the girl alone in her cell, crying.

Once back in the executioner’s room and remember that the guy said the big Nothic ran out the door they were heading Wittr wants to go after it, but then the Sending Stone starts hallowing.

(When we were giving this, it was explained that if the one holding the stone dies the stone would start making noise.)

Sage looks at stone start trying to talk to Ben. No answer.

Tough Decisions and the Catacombs

Sage looks at Wittr “Ben needs us, I’m sorry Wittr we need to go now.” Wittr was torn but she chose to follow. (I felt so bad, making Wittr choose this.)

As B Team races to get to the room where Ben’s team was, the group ran into 2 problems, one of the rooms they came across had a Red Cap eating a dead guard.

(Player me whose loves reading folk lore knows what Red Caps are and immediately started say ‘No, no nope no”) 

Sage cast Slivery Barbs in the opposite direction, and he runs after it.

The next room, B Team sees a guy sitting in a chair staring at the door that leads to the stair way that goes to the catacombs. He notices the group, Sage calls out with daggers drawn “Friend or Foe.” To which he response “Foe” Isabell shoots an arrow in which he deflects with a shield and draws his sword and hits a button on the hilt which sets it on fire (Sage wants this blade.) he then says, “Oh definitely foe, you lot are not getting through that door.”

I can’t remember what happens here I know Sage was trying to plant doubt in this guy head that his boss left him to be the fall guy, but it doesn’t work well, the group fights but the guy throws down a smoke bomb in orders to flee.

Sage, before he escapes, whips out her Poltergeist Grimoire which this Grimoire is like a way stronger version of Mage Hand, but she can only use it once per day, shoots the handout and catches the guy by the neck and pulls it back.

Wittr starts to circle the goon and Sage and Wittr starts asking him questions. However, most questions about his boss he was not going to talk to, but Sage gets an idea and starts asking about the relationship between K and Blackthorn.

That did it, he tells the group that if they let him and get his sword, he will tell everyone what up. Sage doesn’t buy and demands him to tell the group now which he does.

Now Sage had several things going through her head right now:

If she lets this guy go, he will go and warn his boss that they are coming for him. If she goes and kills him now the problem would be solved.

Sage looks at the guy “Thank you for the information.” Using the Grimoire, she starts tightening her grip, but Wittr brings her back to her senses and stops before she goes too far. So, Sage knocks him out, ties him up and hides him so that if anyone comes from his group, they wouldn’t find him.

Sage also takes his sword which is a short sword of Flames +7 1d6+1d6+4. Killian does make the comment “Well done, but that got too serious.”

The doorway to the room where Ben was, still being careful, the group goes into one room and see the doorway they came through was destroyed, Ben was caught under rubble and several dead bodies of Ben’s crew were on the ground.

Serne, Davin, Lorelei, and Gordo were dead. Gideon was alive and heavily wounded; Sage uses her health potion she had found in one of the rooms on Ben and the B Team helps get Gideon and Ben out.

Grieving over their loss Ben, has made the decision to go back to the Warden to rest and gather reinforcements, Ben asks for Isabella to come and escorts them back, Wittr and Sage looks at Isabella and said, “It’s been a pleasure working with you and stay safe.” Sage also apologizes for the Poison Spray, which she was its cool.

Sage looks to Killian, “If you want out now speak up now.” In which Killian response “I want Blackthorns head on the block I am coming with.”

Wittr and Sage looks at each other and now with Killian proceeds down into the abyss of the prison, not knowing what will happen.

(End session)

Player note:

I do feel bad how that almost turn out, but this guy would have killed us or got away and warn his boss that we were coming. I am grateful that Wittr was bring Sage back to her sense before she did something she would regret.

Wittr and Wittr’s player are the best calm, cool, collected people ever.

Because Sage is not that bloodthirsty, but the pass week she has dealt with a lot, and she is trying to ensure the groups safety and we did unalive another goon of Blackthorn, but he was being force into it and Sage felt bad for him.

This guy, however, was ready to fight as soon as he saw us, so Sage was not going to let this goon get away. I will be more careful on how I play Sage from now on.

[apolloeditsx]

"And that's why I love you," - Kell x Delilah [D&D OCs ]

Hey soo I have started do these writing warm ups they really help me as a DM! This is a senerio between two npcs of mine named Kell/Killian & Delilah. Hope you enjoy!

Their backs pressed against each other, providing cover from all directions amidst the chaos of fire and crumbling buildings. "Why is it that every time we meet up, it's always a world-ending scenario?" he joked, stealing a glance at the raven-haired woman before refocusing on the approaching undead. With a swift motion, the half-elf released a bolt of fire from his palm.

"I don't know, I kind of enjoy it," Delilah smirked, her arrow finding its mark in a skeleton's skull. "It never gets boring, you know." Kell couldn't help but chuckle, finding her response typical, at least for her "And that's why I love you," he mumbled under his breath, channeling his energy to create a arcane shield in front of them.

"Really?" Delilah turned her gaze back to the brown-haired half-elf, her deep brown eyes meeting his emerald green ones. "Really, pretty boy? You're telling me that now?" She rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance, yet a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "God, I hate you and your impeccable timing."

[zero-insignificance]

I had a dream that gave me ideas for new DND characters:

Alfie the Chicken.

He's a sorcerer and always has a small jar of mayonnaise on him that he named Tammy.

Tammy was a powerful elf warlock whose patron saint was The Celestial. She got power hungry and evil and was imprisoned inside a mayonnaise jar by the celestial as punishment. Needless to say she is salty about it.

She's like the one ring but a mayonnaise jar and has corrupted many but was lost in a trash can. During a fight the jar was slingshotted into a young and unsuspecting Alfie's forehead.

They've been inseparable ever since. Together they are menaces to society as Haunter and Hauntee.

A day will come when the jar is broken and Tammy will be free. During her many years trapped in the jar she has heard of the fiend and upon being freed she vows her allegiance to them.

Killian the Rogue

She's a half elf born into a wealthy family. Her parents are high elves in a loveless marriage. She is the product of infidelity but she looks enough like her parents that those outside of the household did not question it. It is unknown as to which parent had the affair.

Her dad is racist, classist, sexist and a goddamn hypocrite.

She was and is a wild child. Her father tried to mold her into a "proper lady" but eventually decided that getting her a suitor would be the best course of action. She hated all of them and one of them was such a cocky bastard that she stabbed him in the hand with a fork.

After this she ran off and became an assassin for hire.

One day someone will hire her to kill her father and she'll be fine with it.

Lu the tiefling bard.

She's asexual and plays the hurdy-gurdy.

And Damien the Tabaxi Edgelord.

He's a sorcerer with the haunted one background. He accidentally picked up an Eldritch tome as a child and was traumatized as hell. He has his reason for being edgy and that reason is everyone needs a coping mechanism.

He keeps to himself most of the time.

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 2/9

In celebration of the one year anniversary of my first @cssns fic, I’m reposting a chapter a day until my 2019 drop date, especially since each chapter has never been posted to tumblr before. Amazing art above done by the talented @shipsxahoy.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rating: T 

Tagging: @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter One

Killian grunted as he swung his arm up to the next ledge. He dug his hook into the craggy rock and pulled himself over the edge. Arms trembling from the long climb, he stood at the pinnacle of stone and gazed out at the horizon. He pulled the water skin from his satchel and took a long drink. He could see the Jolly Roger moored just a few leagues out from the rocky shore. His crew, especially Smee, hadn’t liked the idea of him making this quest alone. The witch, however, had made it clear. This was his journey to take and his alone. He was glad now for it; climbing over these rocks would have been even more difficult with a companion.

The salty breeze ruffled Killian’s hair and tugged at his blouse. He breathed deeply of it, the scent calming him as it always did. And yet there was another tug on his soul. That of rich loam, green moss, and the ancient groaning of trees. He shook his head as if to fight off that half of him. One thing was for certain; he was eager to be away from this rocky terrain.

He turned away from the view of the coast to make his way down into the valley below. The rocks were loose, held together by pebbly soil. Going up it had been both an aid to his hook and a danger. Imbed his metal appendage into a crevice too loose, and he could have gone tumbling to his death. It had been slow going. Now, the loose ground beneath his feet made it a quick journey to the floor of the valley below.

As he walked along the tiny trickle that he supposed could be called a stream, the ground slowly became less rocky. Soon, the water was a true stream, tumbling merrily over smoother rocks. Then it became a lazy river that emptied into a tranquil pool. A thin waterfall streamed from the cliff above, casting a shimmery rainbow in the mist.

By this time, the sun was beginning to dip low, so Killian made camp. He found a spot near enough to the water for the ground to be softer and more comfortable, but near enough the rock wall to keep him hidden in shadows. He didn’t dare make a fire. He ate from his meager rations and then curled up upon the grass, using his satchel as a makeshift pillow.

Dawn had barely come when a rustling sound awakened Killian. He started up from a light sleep, his sword quickly drawn. Heart pounding, he gazed about to see nothing. The silence surrounding him was an oppressive thing, causing the hair on his neck to stand up.

Then suddenly, something white was swooping down, almost clipping his head. He ducked, swearing under his breath, and then blinked in shock when he lowered his arms and looked up. There, standing calmly and regally by the water’s edge was a pure white swan. It lowered its head as if in greeting and Killian rose slowly to his feet. He eased closer to the bird, a question furrowing his brow.

“Is this the sign the witch spoke of?” he asked in a whisper. It felt odd to speak at all in this still and quiet place.

The swan bent its neck slowly, its beak almost to the ground. It seemed to bow before him. Then it turned suddenly, flapped its wings, and rose into the air. It spun in a circle above Killian’s head, then dove into the stream of the waterfall.

Killian rolled his eyes. “I suppose it wants me to follow it,” he muttered sarcastically.

He re-sheathed his sword, slipped his satchel over his head, and made his way gingerly across the slippery rocks to the waterfall. He reached out with his hand tentatively, and jumped slightly when the water parted like a curtain. On the other side, he could see the swan standing patiently, as if waiting for him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as he stepped through, “this better not be a trap.”

Once beneath the waterfall, the swan disappeared. Killian swore again as he turned in a circle. What now? He edged closer to the smooth, rock wall behind the falls, running his hand over the slick, wet surface. He paused when he felt indentations beneath his palm. He drew closer, and sure enough, there was a carving there. The elegant neck of a swan, the etchings of feathers at its back. Killian pressed harder against the carving, and a disk of rock collapsed into the wall, light shooting around its edges. Killian squinted against the sudden bright light, backing away hesitantly from the magic. But as the spots of light cleared from his vision, he saw an open archway and beyond it a tunnel carved into the side of the mountain.

Killian stepped inside, wondering how he would see in the dark cavern, only to see a light bouncing ahead of him. When he hesitated over following it, the light seemed to become agitated, coming closer and then skittering away again. As if the light were entreating him to follow.

Killian took a deep breath, reminding himself that swans – white ones at least – were an omen of light magic, not dark. Then again, his own heart was filled with nothing but black deeds. Perhaps the light here wished to snuff out the darkness of his villainous heart?

He made his way down the tunnel, hand hovering at the hilt of his sword, his hook held aloft and ready. The tunnel suddenly curved and dipped downward, and the light he had been following suddenly enlarged and morphed once again into the beautiful white swan. It seemed to stare at him for a moment, then it turned and flapped upward, disappearing in a shower of rainbow colored light. When the bird disappeared, there before him was a simple pirate’s cutlass hanging in an alcove of rock.

Killian shook his head in confusion as he stepped close. He picked up the cutlass, weighing it in his hand and examining the hilt. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head back when he saw the language etched there.

“Elvish,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice.

“You found it,” said a breathy voice behind him. He knew that voice well. It’s soft, airy quality that used to soothe him as a child.

Now it sent anger pulsing through his veins.

“You?” he choked out. He had meant it to come out accusing, but instead he sounded like a hurt and betrayed child.

Tauriel came closer, steps hesitant, her hands clasped before her. Her ginger hair was covered by a hunter green cloak. Killian took a step back, wary of her intentions.

“You were the witch in that glade?”

She shook her head, pulling the cloak from her head. “No, but she wasn’t a witch. She was one of my kind. One of the few willing to help elves in my position.”

“You mean the ones neither living nor dead?” Killian spat. “Nice of her. I should have known this was about you, not me. This weapon won’t even work against the Dark One, will it?”

Tauriel remained completely serene, though her eyes became dull and sad. It was an elven trait that Killian had always found infuriating, especially since his own emotions were always so volatile.

“No to both. No, it won’t help your quest against the Dark One. And no, my son, this is not about me at all. You are floundering, Killian, and I can watch it no longer.”

“Ah, yes,” Killian quipped, gesturing with his hook, “watch. All my mother ever does, ever has done. Watch. And what exactly about the show bothers you?”

Tauriel blinked as tears formed in the corner of her eyes, “You are in pain, Killian. You have closed your heart off, wary of love, and filled it with darkness instead.”

“What worries you, mother? That I will waste away like you?” Killian is practically snarling now, his fist clenching. His mother’s form is shifting, and he knows soon she will fade away. Trapped between the living and the dead, she can only communicate with him for brief moments at a time.

“No. For thankfully, the woman you lost was not your true love.”

“How dare you!” Killian cried, his face contorting with pain. “How dare you question the depth of my love for Milah!”

“Oh, my darling,” Tauriel said, reaching her arms out towards him, but they were now so ethereal, she couldn’t touch him, “that isn’t what I mean at all. But you can love again, I have seen it.”

Killian shook his head, “Please, none of your elven prophecies. All your kind ever does is speak in riddles. I’ve no time for it, nor do I put any stock in it.”

Tauriel was only a mere shadow now. “Even so, take the cutlass, my son. The swan would not have led you to it if it weren’t meant for you.”

Killian looked down at the weapon in his hand. It wasn’t delicate enough or ornate enough to have been wrought by elven hands. And yet the words etched into it were elvish. “What does it say?”

He looked up to find his mother gone; his question unanswered.

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

Killian Jones had varying types of dreams. Like anyone, some were a bizarre mixture of sights, sounds, and thoughts. Ridiculous tumblings of his mind with no meaning. And like anyone he also had dreams that represented his deepest desires and fears. Emma figured prominently in dreams like that and had for some time.

But being a few centuries old with far too many regrets, Killian also had dreams that were simply memories. *Most of them painful, causing him to wake with a start. Then he would take in his surroundings, see Emma lying peacefully next to him, and feel his heartbeat return to normal.

This morning was one of those times, though the memory of the swan, the cutlass, and his mother was not particularly disturbing nor wrought with regrets. Nevertheless, it troubled him, and he spent several minutes watching Emma sleep. He admired the way the early light of dawn shone against her hair. He lifted a few strands, relishing the soft feel of them between his fingers. The strap of her tank top had slipped from her shoulder during the night, and he leaned forward to fix it, his hand lingering against her skin longer than necessary. He leaned forward and planted a kiss there as well. Emma sighed and shifted, but didn’t waken.

He rose quietly from the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the hamper and slipping it over his head. He didn’t bother with his brace, a fact that still, five years into marriage, filled him with gratitude and wonder. Emma truly loved every part of him.

He walked downstairs to the kitchen and used the Keurig machine to make a quick cup of coffee. He grasped the mug in his right hand and made his way to the back porch. His eyes scanned the quiet yard. Many would have missed the figure on the edge of the property, her green and brown garments blending into the trees. But Killian had the keen eyes of a sailor.

Okay, and the keen eyes of an elf, too.

He ground his teeth, his jaw clenching as he made his way across the yard to her, the dew on the grass wetting his bare feet.

“Mother.”

“Killian.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m always near, my son.”

Killian closed his eyes tightly. So many emotions swirled through him, it was hard to pin down exactly what he was feeling.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Tauriel raised her hand as if to touch him, then retreated. “Now that you’ve made a home, and are no longer at sea, perhaps we can . . . get to know one another again?”

“And how is that going to work exactly? 5 minutes at a time?”

As if to confirm his words, Tauriel’s shape began to fade. As she disappeared into mist, she smiled and said, “I love you, Killian.”

When she was gone, his fist clenched around the coffee mug. For some reason, anger surged through him and he threw the ceramic as hard as he could against the nearest tree where it shattered into pieces.

“Killian?”

He turned to see Emma standing on the porch, her arms tight around her chest as she shivered barefoot in her knee-length bathrobe. As he walked towards her, he tried to give her a bright smile, and she gave him a crooked one in return.

“I never liked that mug either,” she quipped with a nod of her head towards the trees.

That got a laugh out of him as he walked up the porch steps. He enveloped her in a hug, placing a kiss against the top of her head. “Sorry, love. Tis nothing.”

“Why are you so upset with her still?” she asked, lips pressed against his collar bone. “I thought you both said what you needed to.”

Killian sighed as Emma pulled back to look into his face. His mother had shown up five years ago, right before their wedding. It had been a lot for Emma to process, finding out he was a Dunedain – half-elf. But she had taken it all in stride, including his mother who hovered between the land of the living and the dead.

“So did I, love. But I didn’t expect her to linger here.”

“She loves you,” Emma said, rubbing his arms gently up and down.

Killian gave a half-hearted smile. “I know. It’s just hard having a mother who’s . . .”

“A ghost?”

“I told you, she’s not a ghost. She’s not dead.”

Emma shook her head. “Okaaay, but she’s not really alive, either. Ghost is the easiest label.” Killian opened his mouth, and Emma lifted her hand to stop his explanation. “I know, I know. She’s immortal, but your father broke her heart, so she wasted away, blah, blah, blah. Got it.”

“Are you regretting marrying me? With my elf ears and my half-dead mother?”

Emma truly laughed as she lifted her arms to loop them around his neck. “With my life? You’re one of the most normal people I know. Even at three hundred plus and counting.”

Killian quirked a brow at her teasing. “And at least I’m not a flying monkey.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him in the chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She kissed him lightly as they both laughed. Killian then steered her towards the door back into the kitchen. They made breakfast, moving around the space together with five years of practiced ease. Then Emma went to take the first shower while Killian did the dishes.

If she noticed that he had side-stepped her question about his mother, she didn’t let on.