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obsidiancreates · 11 months

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Icewild (Part 2)

(There should be a Read More link but if it doesn't show up tell me because that's been happening lately and I don't know why.)

The arrival of the newcomers is... interruptive, but not halting. There's still the matters of making sure the ogres don't turn on the humans, of tending to wounds, of having a new day.

Of breakfast.

Barnabos keeps Kremy in the corner of his vision as he works on the monkey bread. The lizardfolk clearly knows his way around a kitchen as he pulls a chef's hat out of a bag of holding, and then a little pencil which he uses to add curls to the ends of his mustache. Then he pulls out a strange belt of some kind, fastening it around his waist.

"Alright Gid. Just light me a little fire here and then hang around in case I need ya."

"Sure thing man." Gideon lights the little fire below the pot and then steps back, crossing his arms and keeping his own eye on Barnabos.

"Not the trusting sort there, Mr. LeCroux?" Barnabos asks. "No need for a bodyguard, as long as ye don't strike first."

"Who said anythin' about a bodyguard? I just like havin' Gid around."

Barnabos sees Gideon puff up a little at that with a smug yet proud smile. Ahhh, well, that makes sense. Always better to have one's lover looking out for them, even when it might not be needed.

"I'll be servin' up a feast myself this morning," Barnabos says, tossing some pork into a pan and deeply inhaling the scent as it sizzles and pops. "All sorts o' fine foods, sweet an' savory alike."

"I'll be cookin' up some Agwe classics myself." Kremy pulls a small bag of flour from his belt, as well as a small glass jar of oil. He measures both out carefully and mixes them together in the pot. "Sausage and chicken gumbo, and maybe a tarte. We'll see, I dunno if I wanna risk a beezleberry infestation here."

"... Did you hit your head when you landed here, lad? I don' understand half the words yer saying."

"Oh. Right, well, a beezleberry is some kinda... horrible Feywild monstrosity. Tastes real fuckin' good! But kind of otherwise really horrible in every other way."

"I thin' I speak for everyone when I say you'd best leave that out."

"Yeah, probably."

"Is Agwe a Feywild city as well?"

"What? No, it's a fuckin' normal city."

"No need to get up in arms, Mr. LeCroux! Was just askin', I don't recognize the name is all."

"I guess it is pretty inland for someone like yourself to visit."

"It's where you wanna go if you're lookin' for a good time," Gideon says, pulling out a cigar and lighting it with his magic. "Gamblin', sleepin' around, scammin'-"

"Sounds like you should tell Mr. Stabbaskotch about it!" Barnabos declares with a grin. "He's the scammin' and gambling sort!"

"Not surprised." Kremy just keeps stirring his flour and oil mixture. "I could taste fiendish magic all around that little fella. Hope he got himself a good deal out of it."

"We may never know." Barnabos pops the bread into the oven. "He's got some sort o' beastie after 'im, but if you ask me he just needs to face it."

Gideon takes a drag from his cigar. "Sounds like he got a shitty fuckin' deal. Hey, how big is this fuckin' breakfast gonna be?"

"I'll be makin' a feast for the whole camp! It'll be plenty to fill up on, don't you worry."

"I'm making enough gumbo for seconds too, Gid." Kremy gestures back at Gideon. "His stomach's made of fire and stuff, he needs extra."

"Well I'm also keepin' up some fuckin' gains." Gideon flexes and grins.

"I'm not so scrawny myself, lads, I know what I'm doin'. ... Speakin' of, Mr. LeCroux, are you ever going to add any food to that there slurry?"

"The rue's barely there! It's only a light caramel, I'm looking for milk chocolate."

"Yer burnin' it on purpose?"

"Cookin' it. Keep your hands away though, this stuff is fuckin' Agwe Napalm."

"... And that's a common dish there? Something that they call napalm?"

"Can find it all over, none's as good as mine though."

"... Maybe don't tell Mr. Stabbaskotch where to find your city, on second thought."

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

The breakfast is a hit.

Kremy made enough gumbo just for his own family and their "hosts", so to speak, while Barnabos fed the rest of the entire camp. Not a single crumb or droplet was left behind of either of their meals, the gumbo being a highlight.

"Holy shit!" Skrimm literally bounces in his set a bit. "How have I never had that before?!"

Jornir places his bowl away. "It was... very good." He nods at Kremy.

"I'll admit, I 'ad my doubts watchin' the process, but it was well worth it." Barnabos sops up the last dregs of it with some bread. "I'll be tryin' to make my own take on it soon enough."

"Lookin' forward to tryin' it." Kremy leans over to Gideon and, less subtly than he thinks it is, whispers, "I saw him fuckin' drown everythin' in that Ancient Estuary shit Duncan had, I'm not fuckin' eatin' that so I'll just give it to you."

Gideon tries to laugh in quiet gleeful agreement. It's also louder than intended. Everyone graciously ignores this little conversation, for the sake of the ogres and their new holiday. Otherwise Barnabos and Skrimm might be rolling for initiative over the slight against Ancient Estuary.

"Oh! By the way, not to uhhhh impose," Gricko says, making a strange hand gesture, "But um, the big fella, there."

"I am called Jornir."

"Jor-nir-aye."

"... N-no."

"Anyway! Um, I noticed you've got a little funny shedding going on," Gricko says, lowering his voice and running his words together at the tail end of his sentence as he tilts his head. "And if I'm not mistaken, my friend Kremy here should have some nice bananyas leftover because he never used them in his pie, and I think it would make a nice, salve." he folds his hands and gives Jornir a funny little smile.

"Oh, yeah, I think you're right." Kremy reaches into his bag and pulls out Bananas.

Daisy gives Kremy and Gricko a look of perplexion and judgement so strong that it's a wonder they don't take psychic damage.

"They're fuckin' magic healin' bananas, alright?" Kremy tosses one at Jornir.

Jornir catches it, and examines it. "This is... infused with magic." He looks at Gricko. "I did not believe you when you said you were a druid."

"Oh, that's fair, I'm not the usual kind." Gricko pats Hootsie on the head as she, with an intelligence more humanoid than animal, pulls a plate of muffins closer and begins eating, picking out any chunks of fruit she finds like a picky child.

"Well... thank you. I will go use this." Jornir stands and leaves the table, and just as pointed out there's a fine dusting of fur on the seat as he leaves.

When he returns, there's sure to be... more visible damage.

But in the meantime, things settle a bit.

"Well," Taishen sighs, "Before all of this happened I'd told Myelin I'd check on an issue with the plumbing system, so I'll be going now. They gave me a wonderful outfit to do it in, too!" He holds up a pair of blue overalls and a fetching red cap.

"Oh, you guys got plumbin?!" Gideon leans in. "Why didn't anyone say so, we're fuckin' filthy!"

"Well, it's not working right now-"

"Oh, I'll get that workin'." Gideon stands up. His chains fall to the floor with a heavy clang! "Just fuckin' watch. Take me to the ogre sewers, dragon guy."

"Oh, company! Excellent news!"

"Go get 'em Gid." Kremy calls after them.

"Jackasses," Skrimm snorts.

Queenie glares. "They're fixin' your water, Skrimm."

"They're also working when they could be relaxing."

"But a hard day's work can be rewarding!" Twig bounces in her seat and holds up a hand. "You get to have things working right, you get to feel all nice after you get cleaned up, you get to lick frogs you find whole cleaning out the cupboards-"

"Lick frogs?" Skrimm's face scrunches.

"Didn't you try snake poison with the ghosts, Mr. Stabbaskotch?"

"Totally different."

"Yeah, snake poison tastes bad." Twig shrugs. "Anyway, I think it's gonna be better once they get the water running."

"Yes, I... am in desperate need of a bath. I'm still... messy, from Julia and Bobby's... acts."

Torbek makes a low sound of both disgust and intrigue. Frost wrinkles his nose and shakes his head.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be returning with good news for us," Barnabos says, leaning back in his chair and puffing on his pipe. "Oh, Mr. Jornir! Lookin' much better. What do you think about all this, sending the fire lads to fix the plumbing."

"I think that it will not work," Jornir says, sliding back into his chair and smelling of smushed bananyas. "And that we will need to have everyone move before we go to take the Armament from the Princess. ... And after the blood sacrifice."

All mouths at the table fall open.

"... Talk about a mood killer," Gricko mumbles.

There's a long silence.

And then Daisy raises her hand and signs, "I nominate Bacon for the sacrifice."

#legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #icebound #my attempts at fanfic #fanfic

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writernopal · 4 months

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🏴‍☠️All Hands To Stations!🏴‍☠️

Yo ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die!

Hoist The Colors, Hans Zimmer

Fierce sails crowd the horizon and sturdy keels cleave the seas as violence this way comes. Meet those who'd call themselves the masters of the waves, traders of flesh, devils disguised as man, and lovers of all things brilliant and bright. These are the wretched Pirates of Oepus and the vessels which they call home. But don't just read about them, choose your fave in a poll at the end of this post!

Shoutout to @pheita for her ask here that prompted this post! I didn't forget it just took me a while to get around to it haha.

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells @full-on-sam @the-mindless @zestymimblo @tabswrites @void-botanist

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

Graphics made with license free images from Unsplash.

The Mirage

Captain: The Witch of The Drowned Forest, Fay Anara Quartermaster: Wilkes Evos Sikthax-Seymour of Tlanxla First Mate: Thelma-Louise Morely Crew Name: The Siren's Marauders

One minute she's there and the next, she's gone. Such is the nature of this mysterious vessel... Rumored to be over 700 years old, stained black as night, and built for speed, The Mirage houses no brig in her hold, operating solely on the principle of 'give no quarter'. Armed with a whalebone bow-spike and crewed by convicts, only shipwrecks and floating dead are left in her wake, and those who survive, face a worse fate yet--that of being consumed alive by her captain.

Meet her captain:

To my left was the frightening woman I knew as Fay. She was tall and chiseled but not by a blunt stonemason’s tool, rather by something sharper, a razor perhaps, to produce her wildcat-like frame. Her dark hair and skin gleamed in the low light of this room as if they were slicked in oil and set ablaze. And like many spidering cracks in a fine dish, were angular-looking runes, etched into her skin that came together to cradle a dull-glowing, rising sun drawn in the center of her chest. Revealing this sun was a deeply cleaved red blouse that tucked into her pants. It billowed about her like the sail of a ship did about its mast. Despite the almost ordinary clothing she wore, there could hardly be one who might dare view her as plain, for her opulence shone through in other ways. Just in the hollows of her collarbones sat a fat, rough-cut sapphire dangling from a length of twisted tack line. Her magic blackened fingers were adorned with many rings and jewels in all colors, dangerously finished with her long, talon-like nails that presently gnawed at the wooden table beneath them. Golden hoops and bangles decorated her ears and wrists, and dotting her hair like many stars were human teeth. But those mock stars were hardly terrifying compared to her golden eyes. They shivered with a barely contained rage as she glowered across the table at the woman to my right...

The Angel's Lyre

Captain: Scourge of War, Lord Manthia of Clan Phaxix of The House of War Quartermaster: Lord Ixlar of Clan Oleander of The House of War First Mate: Lord Axtapor of Clan Oxlo of The House of Dreams Crew Name: The Starlight Walkers

A methodical vector of destruction, this frigate represents the long and proud arm of The House of War of The Holtep Empire. Richly carved and brightly painted, she appears like the fiery red-gold Goddess Kava cleaving the seas. Ballista, not canons, defend her decks alongside her bloodthirsty Lizardfolk crew. Raids are her specialty and only the most lucrative of ventures are enough to bend her eye, and that of her captain, your way.

Meet her captain:

The boards creaked loudly as the source of the sound approached—heavy footfalls and the light scratching of talons on wood. Judging by their cadence, there were at least two approaching, perhaps three, but they did not keep us waiting for long, as the one at the head of the group quickly took shape in the low light. A brilliant cerulean lizard, dressed in what I would call excess. He was positively crusted in jewels and jingling like a purse of gold with his every move. His eyes shone a beautiful bronze amid his sculpted features and about his neck were many white feathers, haloing him much like someone stepped out of an old painting. One might almost wonder if he was truly the tactician of a great vessel as this and not an overgrown boy with a penchant for overspending. That is until his skills in the art of the duel were put on display. And then it was easy to see where the attitude of ‘more to be had’ originated from.

Orpheus

Captain: Mangrove of Tides, Ka'hra Zelgius Quartermaster: Yggta Tah’vya First Mate: Ceresta Ka’leva Crew Name: The Undrowned Ones

The intrepid and one-of-a-kind elven pirate ship, Orpheus, travels not in silence, but robed in song. She floats along the waves with a choir on board, emitting haunting notes to reach the ears of those she sets her sights upon. Amid this orchestra of dread, she fires her great canons, to fell any foe who would cross her. And once the deed is done, the dead are gathered, their flesh rent from bone, and they are strung up, so they may forever sing alongside the other talented members of the choir.

Meet her captain:

And finally, the ancient Mangrove of Tides, the elven Captain Zelgius of the Orpheus. I’d known him many times over. He was not at all a dawdling character as his moniker might suggest, rather it was an ode to his interesting displacement of habitat. I suppose of late it did take on something of a double meaning, such was the way with elder elves as he. His limbs and all were beginning to harden and so moved less deftly much like those creeping trees. Indeed many thought his difficult movements were on account of the typical elven reaction when put beside water. Their kind were not swimmers, nor even buoyant, indeed they routinely drowned in waters human or dwarven child might play in. It was then surprising, astonishing even, to find one cutting across the great seas of Oepus, let alone one who would call them home as he did. No doubt his elven brethren thought him a fool for severing his ties with the forests which bore him and forfeiting those companions which would remember the world as it was those two-hundred or so years ago when he was born. He dressed his age, routinely wearing the fashions from those centuries past. Today, a robed piece of a deep green with an asymmetrical collar, sewn into it, the pattern of fallen leaves. The shade contrasted with the beechwood tone of his skin, but brought out the ochre of his hair. Rather less like hair as humans and dwarves knew it, and more like leafed vines. They rustled about him in long strands, spouting from the style atop his head like a proud cock’s comb.

The Mystic

Captain: Navigator of Kings, Charles Walthorn Quartermaster: Sophie-Marie Morely First Mate: Helena Walthorn Crew Name: Plunderer’s of the East

This vessel has circumnavigated Oepus more than any other in existence. She is far from the fastest, or the most nimble, or even the most terrifying, trading a fearsome outward appearance for seaworthiness. There is none is so reliable as she, and her crew is much the same. A contract taken is a contract honored, and you can bet that she will never lose sight of you. There is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. To be hunted by her is to be marked for death.

Meet her captain:

The proclaimed Navigator of Kings, Captain Walthorn of the Mystic. He was called so because once upon a time, he himself had pledged his service to the Pale Navy beneath the Emperor Phostos of the Pale Kingdom at the infancy of his reign. He’d never told anyone how he managed to successfully escape such a posting, regarding it as his best kept secret. True old salt if there ever was one. Perhaps he was not as polished as the aforementioned Morely, but every inch the image of what a child or common man might imagine an accomplished navyman to look like. A snow beard, with thinning white hair to match, a bright red coat with a golden lion’s head pauldron perched on his left shoulder and two long curved cutlasses—affectionately called ‘Tooth’ and ‘Nail’—dangling from his waist. Their handsome golden pommels poked out from coat, appearing like the armrests of a throne. His belt buckle peaked out from underneath his rum-round gut, which strained against the buttons of his waistcoat. Hard to believe that further beneath that was the instrument which he famously used to produce bastards. I’d long lost count at how many he’d sired, to be sure almost all were by Morely, and the rumor of his children manning his ship the Mystic might be easily discredited, had they not all shared his hazel eyes and crooked nose.

The Lady of The West

Captain: The Fallen One, Santo Orfeo Quartermaster: Benedicto Vicente First Mate: Benedicto Mauricio Crew Name: Los De Agua Sagrada

Gun decks are hardly what should strike fear into your heart if this vessel crosses your path. Exclusively taking her victims at sunset, she appears to be born of the sun's fire itself and the faceless figures which wander her decks appear like the silhouettes of the departed. With their wailing cries to the god Orran, they plead for everlasting mercy, catching all within earshot in a trance which can only be called divine. So give up your riches and repent alongside them. Or else.

Meet her captain:

Put between he and the last man on the right was the hooded figure of The Fallen One, Captain Orfeo of The Lady of the West. A self-given title, some manner of flagellation for an ill-begotten behavior he didn’t dare elaborate on, let alone speak of. It did not matter the light of day, or the glow of candlelight, or the shine of moon, nor in what power or from which direction they came, his countenance remained always cloaked in shadow. Indeed if he were ‘he’ or man at all. All that could be seen was his towering figure, cut tall and broad, beneath a sun-bleached version of a priest’s habit. A severe stiletto of the most shining gold rested at his waist and nothing more. His crew just as sullen were lauded by all who crossed them as ‘men of blessed waters’, claiming that indeed they’d seen ‘Orran’s light and love’ and were compelled beyond all reason to part with their riches whenever they appeared.

Johnny No Hands

Captain: Mother of Waves, Evelyn Morely Quartermaster: Eric Walthorn First Mate: Anna-May Morely Crew Name: The Requisitioneer’s

Contrary to her name, Johnny No Hands indeed requires many hands to operate, the most of any pirate ship on the seas of Oepus. Her illustrious crew is comprised of ex-navymen, ex-merchantmen, mariners, and buccaneers alike. Because of this, it has often been said that this vessel could easily be mistaken for navy-born man o' war for how effortlessly she operates. But don't fool yourself, these men are hardened pirates all the same. A special breed of cruel, calculating, and cunning, so be prepared to fight this floating fortress should you find yourself on the other side of her guns.

Meet her captain:

Following that came the Mother of Waves, Captain Morely of the vessel Johnny No Hands. She hated the name, though not because it suggested age or that tantamount responsibility, but because it sounded silly to her. Even so, with the number of accomplished sailors, pirates, buccaneers, and all other such likes born from her and suckled at her breast, it was little wonder she would not garner such a title. Her long, stick straight grey hair was slicked back with ship tar and the dark blue of her coat made the sea-like color of her eyes shine. She was a slim, bronze, sun-spotted figure of a woman, beautifully weathered much like her well-traveled ship. Rather less like ‘a specimen exhibiting the finest quality of human leather’ as her bastard daughter, the ever jabbing Thelma-Louise, First Mate of the Mirage, liked to say. Age became her regal air. A fine, fine woman of autumn years… She lamented the loss of her fire colored hair, but I rather enjoyed her silver. It called to mind the gentle light of dawn just as the sun was waking.

The Virgin

Captain: Gorgon of the Deep, Francesca Cotton Quartermaster: Giulio Espos First Mate: Giulia Espos Crew Name: The Eyeless Corsairs

A flighty vessel who traipses the waters of Oepus as if on her maiden voyage each time she puts to sea, she is the ultimate trickster of the waves. Appearing defenseless is her game, often luring her victims to chase after her when she wanders into their waters. She is the most nimble pirate ship of all, making tacks into the wind look like child's play, and when she finally comes about, well, prepare for a mean broadside and swivel guns full of shrapnel to the face. Give no quarter indeed.

Meet her captain:

So I gestured to the near and leftmost one, the infamous Gorgon of the Deep, Captain Cotton of the Virgin. She smiled at someone, her blindfold perking up where it sat across her cheeks. Between her dark lips and underneath her low nose were piles and piles of oil black teeth, filed to points. Her skin was scaly as ever and draped in what looked like torn ship sails emblazoned with some pattern. At present, it was impossible to discern what that pattern might be due to the many folds of the material and the thick line that twisted about her to secure in place. Even so, the garment put the soot tone of her scaled flesh on display, exposing the lines of red cut across her belly just above where the ample part of a normal human woman’s hips would be. Such a thing she was not, no matter how familiar her trunk might be. What followed were not legs. Instead, she steadied herself on a slim, long, coiled serpent’s tail, decorated with a spike on the end. Upon her bald head, were runic shapes of all sorts, running down the length of her neck and over her shoulders, like a veil soaked in water. She, too, was committed to the dark craft as her ‘eldest sister’—what she liked to call Fay.

Left Hook

Captain: Father of Fight, Torund Hayhurst Quartermaster: Nora Silverkey First Mate: Tamil Tarlock Crew Name: Ofler’s Buccaneers

Flagship of the Dwarven Pirate Collective, this vessel is known for her mean broadside but more than that, hauling other ships alongside her until they fall to pieces. Armed with a cleverly engineered piece of dwarven machinery along her portside hull, she is able to pierce the hulls of enemy ships at close range and drag them through corals or rocky shores. One man is always left standing to tell the harrowing tale of his ship and crew's loss, so don't lose hope, you may survive yet even if her sails cloud the horizon.

Meet her captain:

And the next, the dwarven Father of Fight, Captain Hayhurst of the Left Hook. Just then he stamped his booted foot on the floor of his launch. The poor little vessel jostled under the strength of his blow. A credit to the famed strength of dwarves to be sure. His great black beard nearly caught underfoot of his tantrum, so decorated with trinkets and such, that it rattled like an angry wind chime and sparkled like a starry night sky. His coat was an impressive thing made of seal fur and a leather looking hide of some kind. Rather than carry a sword or blade of any sort, he favored a pair of hatchets, each one strapped to his thighs. His quartermaster, one Nora Silverkey, squinted through her one good eye and notched a mark in a wooden paddle at her belt with a frown. Counting what? I wondered.

The Blind Vengeance

Captain: Legacy of Rook’s Keep, Antony Anderton Quartermaster: Marcus Anderton First Mate: Luther Anderton Crew Name: Mutineer’s of The Rook

The infamous outcast of Rook's Keep, this vessel is notorious as a paradise for troublemakers, the unwanted, and anyone with a good throwing arm. She specializes in procuring "special" cargo by way of harpooning--sea nymph's flesh, whale carcasses, even demons and vampires on occasion. If it glitters or otherwise shines, her crew will be sure to clear space in their hull for it and will sell only to the highest bidder. But chances are you're not interesting enough to be traded, which is really too bad, because, well, you've already seen too much.

Meet her captain:

Beside him, the incorrigible Legacy of Rook’s Keep, Captain Anderton of the Blind Vengeance. Rook’s Keep was a squalid like place but apparently even it had had enough of him and his unruly band of brothers. He propped one leg up on the edge of his launch, his knee tenting his wide-legged breeches. They raised slightly at the ankle, displaying his leather sandals and mangled feet. Ever the three toed creature. Around his waist, swirled a black cloth belt, decorated with whale bones and beaded trinkets. His lean trunk sprang from it, tufts of blond chest hair tangled themselves into his many necklaces, framed by his open whale hide vest and his makeshift cape made of fish net. On top of his head, a worn, brimmed hat, enclosed his ratty hair. His quartermaster and first mate—said brothers—flanked him on either side in similar dress, but paid less attention to the general goings on, instead putting their focus on treating their harpoons.

#aasoaf #pirates of oepus #choose your captain #my writing #poll #info dump #its a long post #sorry not sorry you will suffer my pirate obsession LOL #especially because ive been sitting on this whole court for literal years at this point

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powdermelonkeg · 6 months

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I have (to the best of my ability) recreated my first-ever D&D character in BG3!

He's a Dragonborn instead of a Lizardfolk, sure – but it's still my boooy

Meanwhile I've made a whole band of Drow rascals. Behold the Bastard Brigade:

Althym (my tragic wizard son, the one who everyone else in this list serves as a backstory for)

Tathvir (former accomplice, knows exactly how cute he is and exploits it)

Velkyn (former accomplice, eternally tired and in need of coffee)

Yazruil (former accomplice, half-drow, a charmer)

Shura (former mistress, died as a teenager but would have looked like this when grown)

I've also made Yazruil's mom, Althym's mentor, Althym's best friend, and that best friend's lover. I cannot be stopped this character creator is too good.

#ask bee #bg3 #behold my tav!#althym

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dartagnantt · 5 months

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Concubus Patron

PDFs of this and more can be found over on at my Patreon here! You should also follow my new Kickstarter so you can be alerted when it goes live next year!

Welcome to the result of a tumblr thread! I was never really satisfied that the monster manual entry was "Succubus/Incubus". Like, I get that they're two halves of the same thing, and are mechanically identical, but why list two names? Similar to this, I also combine the "Lizardfolk King/Queen" entry to "Lizardfolk Monarch" because that just looks better. Weird specifics aside, patron time!

Enticing Temptation

AKA the concubi's charm action, but weaker. Stronger than charm person though.

Charmed Communication

This is the GOO warlock's awakened mind, but because that's the only 1st level feature, it's obviously weaker, but hopefully interesting

Enervating Caress

The iconic feature of the concubus, very limited, but hopefully fun. Not just a kiss, because I try to not force a player into performing intimate actions. Also, I was inspired by Wrath of the Righteous' Arueshalae mentioning that she can't even touch the player without potentially killing them.

Expanded Connection

Making the starting feature stronger, because the concubus only has like four features, and the last one kind of works as the capstone

Astral Getaway

Behold! A magnificent mansion to take your lovers… or allies… or pillowfort. This was based on the Seeker's capstone, but also it was kind of boring considering the theme. Besides, MMM is available to 13th level characters, so this seemed reasonable.

And now to plug my stuff. I release homebrews weekly over on my Patreon. Anyone who pledges $1 or more per post don't have to wait a month to see them, and also help fund my being alive habit.

At the moment, they have exclusive access to the following:

The Siren's Call

Satyr Ancestry

Sanguine Seeker Ranger Archetype

[Third Casters Revised)[https://www.patreon.com/posts/95594928/?src=Reddit)

I also have three classes, and a splatbook over on DriveThrueRPG to check out:

The Rift Binder. A class specialising in summoning monsters and controlling the battlefield.

The Witch Knight. A class that combines swords and sorcery in the most literal way.

The Werebeast. A class that turns you into a half beast to destroy your foes.

d'Artagnan's Adventurer Almanac. A compendium of races, subclasses, feats, spells, monsters and more!

#d&d 5e #subclasses #warlock #otherworldly patron

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sasquatchwyo73 · 6 months

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Their later morning search for supplies lead them to Wrathful where Brylint heard a voice mumbling, in draconic, "Not Naga. Not Lizardfolk. Not one of our lesser kin, I'm sure of it."

Looking around, she noticed another hooded individual. Brylint discreetly pointed them out to Zamkk. When Zamkk did not recognize the individual, Brylint waited until they were closer, through back her hood and in draconic asked, "Excuse me. May I help you with something?"

The dragonborn tilted its head, "Ah, Yuan-ti. Of course."

"Why does my lineage matter to you?", Brylint asked rather annoyed.

She had no idea what this reptilian creature was beyond annoying and rude, but it did speak Draconic which lead her to assume dragonborn.

They threw back their own hood. "Forgive my musing. I am gathering a census you see. Dracustulak Irlywyn is my name. You may address me as Dracus.", they gave a rather desterbimg tooth filled grin which Brylint found rather familial. When Zamkk reached for her sword, Brylint quietly placed her hand upon her protectors hand preventing her from drawing and returned her own tooth displaying grin. "My companion does not understand draconic and has misunderstood your greeting. A moment."

In abyssal, raising on her toes and leaning in close to Zamkk's ear, she quelled the situation, "This is a plausible alley. Give me a moment." Then could not resist nibbling briefly on her ear. Zamkk flustered, nodded stiffly.

"Lovers?", Dracus asked.

"New, but, yes.", it seemed an easy bucket to use.

"I have read of such things. I have a rudimentary grasp of some local languages. Elven, Undercommon, Ghukliak. Though, I understand far more than I can speak.", Dracus shared.

"Ghukliak would help with my friend.", Brylint stated.

"I am Dracus of Draconia. Researcher. I understand more than I can speak.", Dracus said in Ghukliak.

"Zamkk", Zamkk said sliding her hand from her weapon, but keeping ahold of Brylint's hand.

Again in draconic Dracus invited, "There is a tea shop off the road over there who serves me well. They won't bother us if we all speak together."

"Lead the way.", Brylint says motioning.

She discreetly fills Zamkk in on the current details.

#d&d story #yuan ti #wildemount

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monsterkinkmeme · 5 years

Note

There's a car show going on! And the lizardfolk showing off the trucks is quite a looker. Maybe he could give you a special look at the backseat? *wink wink*

#exophilia #lizardman #lizardfolk #lizardman lover #lizardfolk lover #monster lover #modern monsters #reptile monster #lemon prompt #anon prompt #there seems to be something in your eye anon

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momolady · 2 years

Text

Rian the Lizardfolk

Let's end the year with this cozy little cafe story. Something fun, warm, and spicy to keep you warm until new years.

Female Reader x Male Monster

The mornings now have more meaning to you than an unwanted slog fueled by coffee and a quick breakfast burrito. Now you rise early and breeze out the door, knowing coffee and breakfast will be waiting for you when you arrive. You doze on the bus sometimes, but often you keep yourself alert. Even at the bus stop, you can smell it wafting across the street - the fragrant, comfy scent of fresh bread. The owner of the hole-in-the wall bakery swiped you up a few months ago, impressed with your skills at the chain coffee place. He’d been wanting to start serving more than drip coffee for ages, he just needed the right person to serve it.

“Good morning, Rian!” you call as you come through the back door. The only other employee is the baker, who gets so swept up in his work, he gets scared easily when you come in unannounced.

“Good morning!” Rian sings back. “Your pastry is at the front.”

You beam, wondering what Rian has made today. “Thank you.” You go up to the front to get everything going, snatching up your breakfast as you go - fresh strawberries and cream wrapped in a cone of delicate flaky crust. “Oh, God bless you Rian!” you whisper under your breath before taking a big bite. You turn on half the lights and start taking chairs off the tables, then turn on the equipment behind the counter and start grinding the coffee beans. People are already waiting, but it’ll be a bit before your doors open at six.

“How’s it going back here?” You go to fetch the trays Rian has lined up on the table, to set inside the glass display.

“Same as it ever was.” Rian’s been here baking probably since three in the morning, and his blue-gray scales are covered in flour and bits of dough. “How was breakfast?”

“I’m starting to think you can read my mind from blocks away,” you chuckle.

Rian wipes off his face and smiles. “It’s not hard to tell you like strawberries. What will be the special coffee of the day?”

You take out the little notebook in your bag. “I had a couple of ideas last night.”

Rian’s smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Didn’t we just have that meeting with the boss about not taking work home with us?”

You clutch your notebook to your chest. “I like being prepared and memorizing what I have to say to customers. Not all of us can be witty and charming like you.”

Rian’s silver eyes widen. “Oh, so you think I’m charming?”

Your cheeks become heated. “Well sure, in a… you know, not anxiety-ridden sort of way like me.”

Rian stifles what you're certain would be a big guffaw. “You seem pretty charming yourself once you get used to someone.”

“That’s just life.” You pick up a tray of baked goods. “I’d elaborate, but I’m pretty sure the early morning masses will be beating down the door soon.”

“And the boss said we’d be replacing the glass next time it broke,” Rian teases.

You go up front, filling the glass case to the brim with all the baked goods. People are knocking and trying to pull the door open, but you still have fifteen minutes before opening. You decorate the outdoor sign to feature your drink of the day, then open the doors to admit the rush of customers.

After the breakfast stampede, things calm down and you can clean before the next rush. Rian comes out with new baked goods and you hand him his coffee. “Thanks,” he sighs and leans against the counter. “Are you alright?”

You shrug. “Everything goes so fast, I don’t really have time to worry about being anxious.” You rub at your neck and roll your shoulders. “At least there are some good tips today.”

Rian glances over to the tip jar. “I bet there’s at least one of those fake twenty-dollar bills with the bible verse on them. I’ll bet you an actual twenty.”

“No need to go that far for something we both know is true.” You yawn and stretch, glancing out the window at the glorious sunshine. It’s still morning, but it feels like noon to you. “Just gotta make it to one now.”

“You can request to not work every morning,” Rian says.

“I like it now. What’s the use in changing? Besides, I’d have to get used to someone else. I already know you,” you giggle.

Rian smiles. “Aww shucks, you really like me.”

You push down the top layer of the trash with your foot to compact it all. “You're the best coworker I’ve ever had, that’s all I’m saying.” Rian really is. Working in the chain coffee shop for two years, you’ve seen everything, people cycled through so rapidly that you sometimes barely had a chance to learn names. Rian is an excellent worker, an amazing baker, and sweet, tall and handsome. What else could you want?

“Then where’s my mug saying so?” Rian taps the side of his paper coffee cup. “This recyclable cup does not do that honor justice.”

You giggle. “You gotta earn enough points before you get the mug.”

Rian nods thoughtfully. “So there’s a point system now?”

“Always has been.” You smile up at him. He’s a lot taller than you, which was very intimidating when you met, and looked terrifying when he was serious. Luckily, the two of you warmed up well to each other. He’s only had to use his scary persona a few times to rude and belligerent customers.

“How do I earn points then?” Rian asks. “Shouldn’t I know the game I’m playing so I can play it well?”

“You’re already good at it. Why ruin it and tell you so you can overthink it?” you chuckle.

Rian leans a little further over the counter. “Do I get points if, let's say, I take you out for dinner?”

Goosebumps prickle the back of your neck. “Do you wanna bribe me for a mug?”

Rian shrugs. “Or maybe I just would like to take you out to dinner.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to think what this could mean. Dinner could just mean friends hanging out outside of work, which you two have only been able to do a couple of times. It also could mean something romantically inclined, which seems ridiculous. You aren’t sure what to believe. He could be serious, but then again he could be teasing you since you brought up this whole points thing.

“What for?” you finally ask.

Rian’s smile becomes a little softer, and he sits up straighter. “So we can have dinner. Maybe go see a movie or take a walk.” He shrugs, looking a little more nervous.

Your mouth is getting dry. “Like a friendly excursion?”

“Sure.” Rian seems a little more nervous. “Maybe even the friendliest of excursions.”

“What’s friendliest?”

Rian chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of his head, his fingers running over the spikes and raised scales. “I guess one might call such a thing a date.”

Should you panic or celebrate? In your head the two aren’t that different. You just look at Rian blankly, mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I know it’s a dangerous question. Maybe I’ll lose points. But if I don't ask, I'm just going to keep thinking about it over and over and over, and I really don’t want to keep doing that. You know how you said sometimes it’s like your mind is a hamster on a wheel, and it doesn’t know how to stop? I guess it’s like that.”

You take a big gulp from your water bottle to overcome the dryness. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner,” you murmur. “It’s an important meal.”

Rian nods. “It is.”

You bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I wouldn’t mind a date,” you say with a slight crack in your voice.

Rian’s eyes widen in excitement. “Okay, then! Um...we’re both off Sunday…”

“Sunday is nice. I have laundry, though,” you say uneasily. “But I suppose that can wait.”

Rian offers a small, adorable smile. “Where do you go to do your laundry?”

“There’s a coin wash down the street from my place,” you say shyly. “I usually go there in the mornings, since I’m up anyway.”

“How about we meet there?” Rian suggests. “We could do laundry, have coffee, and then we can just talk about what we’d like to do for the day.”

Doing laundry as a date? Is that even legal? “Sounds cute,” you squeak.

The door opens, and Rian stands to attention. “Later,” he says as he retreats to the back.

Your heart is hammering, but not in the usual anxious sort of way. It actually feels nice to have your heart race for once.

When the evening shift arrives, you and Rian leave work together. You’re quiet at first, standing just outside the door as he adjusts his backpack. “So, about Sunday. Where would you like to meet?” He fidgets with the strap of his backpack.

“I usually go around eight in the morning. Sleeping in for me is like seven.” You twist the ring on your finger around and around.

“So, the coin wash closest to your place?” Rian asks.

“Yeah, it’s got this big pink bubble sign out front. You can’t miss it.” You try to dispel the clinging awkwardness. “Are you going to school now?”

“Yeah, but I’m down to just one class a day now, so I’m not as busy as I was last semester.” Rian scratches the back of his neck. “You?”

“Online classes exclusively.” You stand there quietly for a second. “Sunday?”

Rian nods. “Sunday.” He turns and unlocks his bike. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“That’s true,” you laugh. “Well, be safe out there.”

Rian puts on his helmet, then waves. “You, too.”

You head to your bus stop and wait. You can’t help but overthink. You’ve never really under-thought before, so you wouldn’t know how. You fret about what you’ll wear on Sunday, how to look cute while most of your clothes are in the wash. You want to look nice, but not like you’re trying. You want to look flirty, but not seductive. Why the hell is dating so hard? Especially when Rian offered to make it somewhat casual! “Get over yourself, girl,” you mutter under your breath. “You know Rian. You like Rian! This shouldn’t be an overthinking situation. You’re excited, why are you like this?”

The bus comes, and getting on allows you a moment of reprieve from your thoughts. Back at your place, you focus on cleaning and classwork, once that’s over, it starts all over again.

“What are you doing?” Your roommate, Cleo, comes out of her room and sees you staring into nothingness. “Let that hamster in your head rest.”

You huff and close your laptop. “I’ve got a date for Sunday.”

“Oh, good!” Cleo turns on the coffee pot. Her work shift is late, so usually you two barely see each other aside from crossing in the middle of the day. “Who with?”

“The baker from work I was telling you about.” You put your schoolwork into your bag and zip is shut.

“The pretty lizard guy?” Cleo exclaims happily.

You flinch. “Yeah.”

“Good! About time.” Cleo picks a reusable coffee cup from the many on the counter. “Where are you going?”

“The laundromat.”

Cleo gives you a look of confusion and annoyance. “The laundromat? You sure it was a date, and he didn’t ask you to do a favor?”

“No, I’m sure! We agreed we’d get coffee, talk, and plan what else we’d like to do that day.” You shrug. “I thought it sounded cute.”

“Sounds too rom-com to me.” Cleo pours her coffee. “What are you wearing?”

How can she ask such a thing? “I’m not sure.”

Cleo beams. “I have that cute little track suit you can borrow.”

“That purple velvet one that looks like Prince made it?”

Cleo gives you a look like you should know better. “No! That’s my money suit. I’m talking about the pastel tye-dye one. Comfy and casual, but it makes any ass look like the best peach at the grocery store.”

“I guess that’s what I was trying to go for, but…”

“No buts, only your butt! You wanna have him ask for a second date, right? Then trust me on this.”

You do want to have that second date with Rian. You like him a lot, and you thought he was cute as soon as the intimidation wore off. He’s just your type, and you work together well.

Cleo tilts her head to the side and looks up at you. “That’s a yes, right? You haven’t said anything for a while.”

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “That is a yes.”

“Okay, good. I’ll lay out your clothes and perfume to wear as well.”

“Perfume?”

Cleo is like a drill sergeant of fashion and flirting. Being a bartender, she’s seen it all, and is prepared for any situation. “You’re going to be alluring! Seductive! But also casual and cute. Do you understand? Perfume is a big part of this costume.”

“It’s a costume now?”

“Regalia. Whatever you want to call it.” Cleo checks the clock. “I’ll get everything ready tomorrow.” She takes her black coffee and waves. “Don’t let that hamster onto the wheel again!”

“I won’t.” You sigh and go into your bedroom.

The next day, you arrive at work as normal. There is that slight hint of anxiety, but you know you can’t let it bother you during the morning rush. “Good morning!” you announce as you come in.

“Good morning!” Rian grunts it out. “Breakfast is out front.”

“Thank you.” You hesitate. “What the heck are you doing over there?”

Rian looks up from a massive wad of dough. “It’s baguette day.”

You gasp. “I completely forgot!”

Once a month Rian makes French bread, and the loaves fly off the shelves so fast you’ve had to set a purchase limit. You get to work immediately, eating your breakfast as you try to get ready for the bread rush. So many people are already waiting outside, you open up thirty minutes early to make sure there isn’t too much congestion right off the bat. Rian literally makes bread all day, leaving enough dough that the second shift will be able to just bake, bake, bake.

You bring Rian an iced coffee during a break in the rush. “You must be so hot back here.”

“Not really.” He’s got a thin film of flour all over him. “Cooler blood, remember?”

“Ah, true. So I suppose this feels nice to you.” You look around at everything. He has so much done and prepared, but there’s surprisingly little mess. “Did that factor in to your decision to become a baker?”

Rian gulps down half his drink. “Kind of. Mainly I just liked bread. Went on from there.” He sets the cup aside. “I must look like a mess.”

You wet a washcloth, then hand it to him. “You look like a ghost.”

“Damn. I’ve not let myself sit still since I got in.” Rian wipes his face, then his arms. “Have you set anything aside for yourself?”

“I’ve been afraid I’ll lose fingers if I do,” you chuckle. “Hopefully I’ll be able to grab a loaf before I leave today.”

“I’ll set one aside for you, then. Don’t worry about it.” Rian picks up his drink again and finishes it off. “I needed that.”

You hear the door open. “No problem. I’ll try and get you another one later.”

When you go to collect your backpack at the end of the shift, you see a big paper bag laid before it. Inside is a loaf of Rian’s fresh bread. You grin widely, excited at the prospect of having some toasted with butter when you get home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Rian asks as he puts on his backpack.

You nod and smile. “Still wanna do laundry with me?”

“You bet.” Rian looks you over with a keen eye. “Do you?”

It’s a way out, but you don’t want to take it. “Of course. I’m really excited about it. I’m just nervous so ignore me.”

Rian gets off his bike and stands closer to you. “If it helps, I’m nervous too. I really like working with you and having you as a friend, so I really don’t want this to turn sour, and…” He stops and chuckles. “See? I can overthink too.”

You smile shyly. “That actually does make me feel better. I’m glad I’m not alone in thinking that way.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Should I bring anything tomorrow?”

Rian pulls his bike back up. “Just your lovely self. But I might bring something.”

Your stomach rumbles, but in a happy way. “Okay. I’ll see you at eight, then.”

“Eight it is.” Rian coasts away on his bike, and you take a moment to catch your breath.

At home, you see Cleo laying out the cute outfit for you, as well as a few other small items like perfume and jewelry. “Is that bread?” she asks, sniffing the air as you walk in.

“Yeah, go ahead and have some before you go to work.”

Cleo pulls out the loaf with a bright smile. “Sweet manna from heaven.”

You sniff the perfume she’s picked, surprised by how subtle it is. “Thanks for the outfit. Do you have anything you’d like me to wash tomorrow?”

“I don’t have much. Mainly I just need my underwear done,” she says. “If you feel like doing that in front of him.”

You lift up the outfit, and underneath it you see a matching bra and panty set. “What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?”

“Anything, and like a boy scout you want to be prepared for anything.” She comes over with an extra-thick slice of bread in her hands. “You’ve been mooning over this young fellow ever since you started working with him. Even if all you do is unzip the top a little bit, he’ll be greeted with something very inviting.”

“It’s a first date!”

Cleo just shrugs. “I’ve had plenty of first dates that ended with us naked. Sometimes in bed, sometimes skinny-dipping after breaking into the public pool. You never know.”

“Well, the set is cute. Soft.” You rub the fabric between your fingers.

“So what is he like? Is he ripped? I guess he has good hands, considering all the kneading he does,” she says with a smirk.

You stifle a snicker. “Yes, very good hands. Nice arms. I guess he’s pretty fit. I see him mostly in his apron or his work shirt.”

“Does he still ride a bike?” Cleo sounds a bit suggestive when she asks this.

You eyeball her. “Yeah, he does. What are you trying to drive at?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles. “Well, have fun tomorrow. Don’t think too hard on things, just try and go with the flow. Okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” you say with a gracious smile. “Thanks for the help, Cleo. It means a lot to me.”

“Anytime. Tell that boy of yours he makes a mean bread,” she says as she gathers her bag to go.

You set everything she gave you into your room, then gather all the laundry you need to take out in the morning. You scour the bathroom and under your bed, making sure you have a full basket. At bedtime you lie wide awake, thinking how you’ll greet Rian first thing in the morning. It’s always been so easy to start the day with him, but this isn’t work. It’s a date. You fidget and toss before you finally fall asleep.

Your alarm blares in the morning, and you scurry to get ready. You do everything that Cleo told you, including the hairstyle. You put on the perfume then dress. The new bra and panty set feels a little weird because they’re new, but they fit at least. You get to the laundromat early to sort without Rian seeing your, well, dirty laundry. You go inside and set your basket in one of the carts. Rian isn’t far behind, and comes through the door just as you’re loading a machine.

Last night you had so many planned greetings for him, rather than your usual ‘good morning’, but as soon as you see Rian you forget all of them. You’ve never seen him in jeans and a t-shirt before. Something about that makes him look so sexy, it throws you off your rhythm. “Good morning.” Rian sets his basket near yours and takes off his backpack. “How are you?”

“Good.” The shirt he’s wearing is just a touch too tight. “Good morning,” you sputter.

Rian tugs at the shirt self-consciously. “I don’t have many tops, since I'm usually at work or school,” he says. “This was the only clean thing I had, and I think it’s from high school or something.” He opens a machine and just dumps his clothes in.

“You’re not sorting them?” you blurt.

“What’s to sort?” Rian asks. “Oh, you mean like I should wash my shirts and pants separately?”

You never assumed he wouldn’t just be good at everything. “No,” you begin to laugh. “Like, you seperate colors. Lights from darks, and your whites in another pile.”

Rian’s brow pinches and he looks down at the machine. “Oh, crap. I really started strong today.”

You break into a laugh and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll show you.” You walk him through how you do your laundry. He’s surprised by how little detergent you use, and you’re shocked by how much he does. After you’ve both started a load, you sit back and he pulls out the breakfast sandwiches he made. They’re so good, even if they’ve cooled.

Then you go and get coffee at the bodega around the corner. Rian ogles the cat at the front and laments how he misses his cats back home. “You have cats?” you ask.

“Technically they’re my mom’s, but I love them like they’re mine.” He sips his coffee and looks up to the sky. “I like yours better.”

“Coffee?”

Rian nods and smiles. “Yeah of course. It’s way better, like ten times better.”

He reaches down, taking your free hand into his. It’s a stunning moment, but you relax into it, trying to not think too much about how big his hand is. “Anything you’d like to do after laundry?” you ask. “Maybe when I drop my clothes off at my place, I can make you a coffee?”

“That’d be nice. I can make lunch too, if you don’t mind me snooping through your fridge,” he chuckles.

You wonder if your house is clean. Would he judge you for the mess in your fridge? Would you have everything he’d need to cook something? Is the house really clean? Oh god, is there anything embarrassing out in the bathroom?

At the crosswalk you hear church bells in the distance. Rian squeeze your hand a bit more, and for a moment the world drifts to a stop. You look up at him, he looks back at you, and your breath catches as you think how nice a soft kiss would be. But then the light changes, and you cross the street.

Back at the laundromat, you move your things from washer to dryer. “Have you ever wanted to just hop in and ride in one of these?” Rian knocks on the glass door.

“Get out of my head!” you laugh.

Rian dips down, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. In surprise you turn your head, lips brushing scales. You both shyly part. Then you lean in again, meeting that sweet kiss you wanted at the crosswalk.

“Not too bad,” Rian chuckles.

“Kind of smooth there.” You lick your lips. “Right in front of the dryers and whatnot.”

You sit down and talk for awhile, commenting on the weather and how creepy the store across the street looks. Then you begin talking about childhood things, previous work experiences. You talk about past relationships, and both of you have had rocky ones. “I haven’t really dated since I started working at the bakery,” Rian says. “I just really wanted to focus on that, then finishing culinary school. I figured someone would come along one day.” He gives you a smile as he says this.

Once the dryers are done, you load up your stuff and head to your apartment. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the coffee started.”

Rian takes your hand, then pulls you in close, gently lifts your head and kisses you, much more intently than before. You place your hands on his chest and move closer, wrapping your arms around him. The kiss makes you feel sweltering, it’s that good. “Wow,” you giggle.

“Like that?” he smirks. He places a kiss on your cheek. “Been waiting for that.”

You finally pull yourself away and make him a special coffee drink, although your mind flutters back to that kiss. You sit together on your sofa, chatting away like at the laundromat. You move closer and closer to one another, until you’re almost on top of him. You want to feel his scales, to have his tail wrap around your back. You do wind up making out, but nothing happens that day.

Sometime down the road, Cleo is leaving on a long weekend. You’re off most of that weekend yourself, due to upcoming exams. You’ve not been alone in your apartment before, and it makes you nervous. “I know this might sound sudden,” you say to Rian. “But I have the apartment to myself this weekend, and it’s kind of… spooky sometimes.”

Rian looks surprised, but a smile appears. “You want me to come stay the night?”

“If it isn’t a hassle. I’d really like having someone there, especially at night. I don’t really like being alone there. I mean, Cleo works nights but she’s always home by…”

Rian grins. “You don’t need to explain, I’d love to spend the weekend with you. I can come over after I’m done with school today. How’s that sound?”

“That would be great! Thank you!”

When it starts storming that afternoon, you’re more grateful than ever to have Rian staying the night. You clean the place while you wait. When Rian arrives, you’re mortified to see him soaked. “I’m so sorry! You could have waited until it stopped raining to come over!”

“It started raining while I was on my way,” he huffs. “I wasn’t going to back out.” He takes off his wet shirt and you see his bare chest for the first time, where the gray-blue scales pale into silver with flecks of black. He looks fit, with a strong trunk.

“I may have a sleep shirt you can wear.” You know you’re staring, but you can’t help yourself.

“I’m mainly just cold. Do you mind if we snuggle a bit until I warm up?” Rian asks.

Your heart races, but you readily agree. You sit with him on the sofa, snuggling into his arms and resting on his chest. Rian does feel cool to the touch, so you pull a blanket around you. “Thanks,” Rian sighs. “This feels nice.”

“It does.”

His hands rub up your back, and he places his cheek on your head. “You smell good too.”

You’d put on that perfume Cleo gave you before. “Thanks.” You run a hand up his chest. “If you’d like to take a hot shower, you can.”

“This is fine for now. I like being close to you.”

You sit up and lean back down to kiss him. You feel it growing deeper, especially as his hands begin to go under your shirt. Cool scales touch your warm, soft skin and a low moan grows in his throat. “Easy, now,” he whispers.

“Easy?”

Rian chuckles. “I don’t want to overstep or anything.” He sits up with the blanket around his shoulders. “As much as I wouldn’t mind, I’m in your home so I should behave.”

You lick your lips. “What would be misbehaving?”

His silver eyes flick over your briefly. “Well, soft kisses become hard. Lips touch more than just lips. Skin is exposed. Heavy breathing.” He clears his throat. “That sort of behavior.”

“I like the sounds of that behavior,” you say breathlessly. “If you’re okay with it.”

Rian licks the corner of his mouth. “I’m okay with it.”

You stand up and take his hand, leading him to your bedroom. You lie down on the bed, pulling him on top of you. His weight feels nice, as he pins you to the bed, making your legs wrap around his waist. You run your hands over as much of him as you can reach, and he kisses down your body, pushing up your shirt and licking your skin.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you ask with shuddering breath.

“Where?” Rian murmurs.

You sit up and have him lie on his back. You kiss his chest, moving your hands down his sides until you touch his jeans. You look up into his eyes, feeling nervous as you try to remain bold. You open up his pants as he watches you, a hazy look crossing his eyes. You rub his erection, then slowly tug down his underwear. You kiss his hips, moving down until your tongue darts over the base. Then you look up again to check his expression.

“I didn’t expect this,” Rian breathes.

You sit up and take off your shirt. “It’s fun.” You lean down again, pulling his penis from his underwear. It’s dark gray-blue in color with flecks of black all the way up to the spear-like tip. You lick him, taking the glans into your mouth as you stroke him. He moans, and it’s the most seductive sound you’ve ever heard. You touch yourself, feeling the wetness that has begun to seep out. Rian’s getting harder, and it feels nice against your tongue.

“Come here,” he moans. Rian pulls you up, kissing you as he replaces your fingers between your legs with his own. He finds you wet and pliant, and slips his fingers in to find the tenderest spots of you. You whimper, holding back your sounds of pleasure until it’s near impossible. You kiss him, moaning against his lips as his fingers swirl inside and out, making your mind come to a halt as the orgasm pulses through you.

Rian takes his fingers and shows you the fluids you left on them. He licks them clean before tugging away your panties and spreading your thighs open wide. You feel embarrassed being displayed like this, but Rian's gaze reawakens you. He sees you as a feast laid out, and he wants you. “Go ahead,” you say meekly. “If you want to, I mean.”

Rian slides his body back over yours. “Do you want to?”

You smile shyly. “Badly.”

Rian kisses you, opening you up with his hand. He places himself inside, slowly dipping in. He groans into your ear, pushing himself deeper. He feels hard inside you, and so good. “How do you feel?” Rian moans.

You lock your legs around him. “Like I want more.”

Rian kisses you, slowly grinding himself inside. He moves like he knows every inch of you, taking his time to make sure nothing gets left behind or ignored. You touch him, wanting to feel every inch of him. He drives deeper, harder, making you almost curl into a ball a few times. He whispers into your ear, breathing sweet nothings that only add to the curl of your toes.

The encounter leaves you breathless, and at last you lie panting on the bed with sweat on your brow. Rian lays beside you, his chest rising and falling like yours. You turn and look at him, seeing the pleasured yet exhausted look upon his face. He catches you staring, you both smile and start to giggle. The giggling turns into laughter, and soon you’re bundled back together, kissing and snickering.

“That was wonderful,” you purr. “You really do have a magic touch.”

Rian kisses your cheek. “Have I earned enough points to get that mug now?”

You both start laughing uncontrollably again. “You did this all for the mug! I should have known!” You kiss him and smooth your fingers along his face.

“Oh yes, you should have been aware of my scheme.” Rian lies beside you, placing his hand on your belly. “It’s always been about the mug.”

You roll into his arms, holding him close. “You’ll have to stay just like this until I get it.”

“Sounds fair.” Rian kisses the top of your head. “Sounds almost too good.”

You get up together and wander to the kitchen to stand in front of the fridge, picking and snacking on whatever you can find. You look at Rian, wondering if this will last. You want it to, desperately. Rian catches you staring and smiles. “What are you looking at?”

You hiccup and wipe your mouth. “Just you.”

“And what are you thinking?” He steals another kiss.

You shrug. “Too much. Like always.”

Rian runs his fingers through your hair. “Don’t worry. I plan on keeping this going for a long time. So save some thinking for later.”

Somehow he always knows. “Okay. I’ll try.”

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #lizardfolk #lizardfolk boyfriend #monster x human #monster x you #coffee shop au #monster lemon #my writing

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

Text

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

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

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

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

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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