#prowler's helm

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - The oldest game

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. It probably wasn't too often the game got played, which made it all the more exciting you supposed.

Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another. You remained sitting on the floor wrapped up in Dream's warm coat. It was all that was protecting you from the eyes of others. You kept your eyes on Morpheus.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master pf the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

Morpheus kneels down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Yes. You don't need to worry about me." You tell him.

"I always worry about you." He admits. "I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't need to worry, really. You should have accepted the trade... you'd have had your helmet back by now."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are not a bargaining chip. You are my raven, my companion, my friend." His voice turns so soft as he speaks. You wished you could read the expression in his eyes.

"If anything happens to me, flee. Return to the Dreaming. If you stay there, Lucifer can not have you."

"No. I will not leave you." You sound determined. His lips twitch into a little smile.

"Always so loyal."

"You know it, Dream King. Now, kick some Devil ass and win. The sooner you do, the sooner we can go."

Morpheus smiles softly at you. He lifts his hand slowly, about to reach out and caress your cheek, but Lucifer's voice breaks the moment and he lowers his hand.

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again softly.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

Morpheus stands, and you sit up. You have your hands through the sleeves now, so you don't have to keep holding the coat together. You fasten a few buttons to hide your body.

Morpheus likes how you look in his coat, but he doesn't have time to admire your human form now.

He needs to secure your safety first.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You sit with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. You bite the inside of your cheek, a new and unfamiliar sensation to you. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You gasp and slide across the floor, placing a hand on his back. He looks up.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look up at him in awe.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You kneel beside him, hands placed on him gently. He tries to get up, but falls back down again.

"I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow, and it worries you.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You shield his body with your own and take his face in your hands gently.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me." You look at him so gently. Your touch is soft against his cold face. He can feel your thumb brush along his cheekbone.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream, who looks up at you. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You whisper to him.

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes. He sees the look in your eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams don't die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave me here alone with Lucifer. He would never leave me. Not when we just found each other again..."

He sees the way you look at him. That look sets something alight in him. He wants you to keep looking at him like that.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process. He returns to you. You stand on wobbly legs, still wrapped up in his coat.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away, grabbing your hand as he goes. You walk with him out of the castle, not daring to look back.

You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Far from the castle, you stand with Morpheus. He was still in his battle gear. You still had his coat wrapped around you. He looked at you and then at his helm.

He puts his helmet on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. You had obviously seen him wear it before, but it had been do long ago.

"I can. I can see the ruby."

You stand a little closer. Morpheus reaches out for you gently.

"Come here." He speaks softly.

You reach for his hand, but find yourself swept off your feet. Literally. Morpheus picks you up in his arm and holds you close to his chest. You look up at the helmet on his head.

"The sand, it's in my pocket. Get it for me."

You reach into the coat pocket and take the pouch out. He says nothing, but you understand what he wants. Carefully, you tip the pouch out into your other palm. Morpheus uses the sand to transport you out of Hell.

All the while keeping you in his arms.

You arrive at a storage house. Morpheus keeps you in his arms.

"Remove my helm."

You reach up and take his helmet off him, holding onto it carefully. He carries you to the door, refusing to put you down just yet. He takes you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He puts you down on a closed box nearby and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!" You hop off the box and hurry to his side. "Dream?" You scoop him up in your arms. He's unconscious. "Wake up. Please wake up..."

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him.

You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. In your current form, you can't fly back to the Dreaming, and you wouldn't dare use his sand without permission.

"Please get up." You whisper, holding head close to your chest. "Wake up, Morpheus..." You feel tears in your eyes.

"Please."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #female reader #the sandman #dragon writes

[writing-fanics]

ℌ𝔬𝔭𝔢: 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔲𝔰 𝔵 𝔉𝔢𝔪!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Chapter Three: Hope

credit goes to: @nebulosa-reina @boobalaloosa-simblr for coming up with this

«warning: angst : fluff : slight tearjerker:»

previous chapter > next chapter

“Dream?” (Y/n) said, in shock looking at him. Dream looked at her in shock, how��d she end up here. In a place like Hell.

She hadn’t changed since he’s last seen her, well except the clothes. But her features her beautiful eyes, her face. He hasn’t seen her in years, of sitting in that glass cage no longer seeing her face, hearing her voice.

“Quite a surprise?” Lucifer says, looking at the Dream Lord. (Y/n) was about to run towards him but Mazikeen held her back, “Not so fast girl. Why don’t we tell Morpheus how you ended up here.” Lucifer says.

“She tried to poison your captor her own father.” They say, and (Y/n) looked down. “Slipping poison into his drink during a Holiday party at his estate.” They continued, Dream’s gaze stayed on (Y/n).

“But it didn’t work.” They finished, (Y/n) then looked back up, “And, I would’ve done it again eternal damnation be damned if it meant he would’ve been free.” (Y/n) says, having enough of Lucifer.

(Y/n) was quite the spitfire now. Even talking back to the Ruler of Hell. You’ve got to have some balls to do that here. Dream immediately knew what she meant, “She tried killing her father in efforts of releasing you. But it was futile.” Lucifer says, a smile on their face.

“It was for nothing.” They added, and (Y/n) grumbled under her breath. “Dream I-” But she was interrupted by Choronzon.

Choronzon looks down at the crowd of demons, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.” They say, holding up the helm.

“Today for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge.” They continue, as the demons cheer. “The challenger is Dream. Once the Master of the Realm of Sleep.” The demon says, and Matthew caws.

“As the challenged, I've selected my champion, Ruler of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar...” They continue, as the demons continue cheering.“ ...to represent me in a contest of skill, confidence and transformation.” They say. Dream looks down at Matthew,.

“Matthew, I need you to return to The Dreaming.”Dream said, to him and Matthew looked at him in shock.

“What? No!” Matthew exclaimed. “It's the only reason I allowed you to come.” Dream says. “So I could leave you?” Matthew just looks at him.

“If I should not be able to leave, I would not have Lucienne left alone with no word of my fate. Not again.” Dream says, and, “The sand will take you back.” He says to him.

“I'm not going back.” He says. (Y/n) was about to walk towards him, “Morpheus, am I interrupting a preliminary bout of some kind?” Lucifer asked, looking at him.

“Just a ringside pep talk, Your Majesty.” Matthew says, looking at the Ruler of Hell. “We came here for the helm and we're not leaving here without it.” He says, and Luciferlooks down at him, “We shall see.” Lucifer says, looking at the raven who the flies off. But doesn’t leave.

“As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move.” Lucifer states, looking at Dream. “Very well.” He responded.

Dream looks at Lucifer, “Make your move.” He says, to the ruler of Hell. “I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler.” Lucifer says. “I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.” He says, and Lucifer grunts breathing heavily.

“I am a serpent. Horse-biting...” Lucifer says, “..poison-toothed.” They say, and Dream gasps.“I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping.” He says, and Lucifer gasps as claw marks appear on their cheek.

“I am a butcher bacterium.” They say , looking at Dream. He falls to his knees his skin peeling away. “Warm-life destroying.” Lucifer finishes.

Dream grunts as his skin begins to decay, “I am a world.” He says, “Space-floating, life-nurturing.” He finishes.

“I am a nova.” Lucifer said, “All-exploding, planet-cremating.” They finished, Dream screams as the fire burns his flesh. He falls back lying on the ground and groans. “I am a universe.” He says weakly. “All things encompassing, all life embracing.” He says.

“I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement.The dark at the end of everything.” They said, and (Y/n) watched in horror seeing Dream.

Lay on the ground his breath trembling, “What will you be then, Dream Lord?” Lucifer asked, looking down at him.

Dream breath trembling as he groans weakly. (Y/n) looks at him worriedly, “I...” He trembled. Lucifer walking closer kneeling down, “I... I ...” He stammered, his voice weak.

“Boss?” Matthew said, landing in front of Dream. “Hey, boss!” He said again, Dream didn’t responded. (Y/n) had tears in her eyes, quietly pleading for him to get back up.

“Still with us, Dream?” Lucifer asked, looking down at the weakened Dream. “He is and it's his move, Your Majesty.” Matthew says, looking at Lucifer.

“There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?” Lucifer says, and Matthew looks back down at Dream.

“Hey, boss. Listen to me. You know what can survive the anti-life?” He asks, looking down at his boss.

“You. Dreams don't fսcking die.” He says, encouraging Dream. “Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven here alone, in Hell with Lucifer.” He says, and as Dream lays on the ground.

His gaze lands on (Y/n) the person who became his everything. When she became his adult. Watching as the young girl became a woman, how even when she was sent away for boarding school.

She never once stopped thinking about him and him her. How when she was gone he hoped to see her again. She wasn’t just his hope for escape but she was hope.

“I love you.” She mouthed, looking at him. “I... am..” Dream said, as he slowly rose to his feet. Matthew caws, as Dream looks at Lucifer. “hope.” He says, standing to his feet. His strength regain.

(Y/n) smiled softly, watching as he rose to his feet looking up at Lucifer. Who stood there in utter defeat, “Hope.” Lucifer mouthed, looking at Dream.

“Well, Lightbringer? It's your move. What is it that kills hope?” They say, and Choronzon holds onto the helm. “Choronzon, give him his helm.” They say, and the demon shakes their head.

“No. I won't. It's mine. Please.” Choronzon grunts,as Mazikeen grabs him by the neck and takes away the helm. Then throws him off the balcony, the demons cheering below.

Mazikeen walks towards him and hands him his helm, “Thank you, Mazikeen.” He says, taking his helm. “Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honorable, indeed. I will not forget this.” Dream says, looking at Lucifer.

“Honorable? You joke, surely. Look out there, Morpheus.” Lucifer says. “The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave?” They continue.

“Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?” They asked, looking at him. “You say I have no power here.” Dream says.

“Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell...” He continues. “Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?” He says, looking at Lucifer.

“One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you.” Lucifer says. “Until that day, Lightbringer.” He says, his gaze drifted towards (Y/n) who smiled. There was no time for a heartfelt reunion. He was truly happy to see her once again, but he wanted to get her out’ve there.

As she exited the gates of Hell with Dream. A star shaped necklace appeared around her neck. What some usually associate with the meaning of Hope. (Y/n) has become the embodiment of Hope in the world.

Hope of the Endless

a/n: y/n isn’t blood related to the endless she just became the embodiment of hope no blood relation at all.

#fanfic #x reader #angst #headcanons #fluff #romance #the sandman angst #the sandman x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader

[porkcracker]

KINKTOBER DAY 1 - MICRO/MACRO

Pairing: Jazz/Prowl Continuity: G1

After Jazz gets accidentally shrunken to the size of Prowls servo, the two have some fun with the new size difference between them.

It had been an accident. One visit to the labs to check on the progress of a prototype weapon later and Jazz found himself in a bit of an odd situation. Sure, the gun was shooting, but it hadn’t been supposed to do what it had done. Nevertheless, intended or not, as it was, Jazz found himself a lot smaller than he had been before. To be more precise, Prowl’s servo small. And as it so happened that was exactly where he found himself after being checked over thoroughly by Ratchet to make sure that he was fine beyond suddenly being servo sized. Luckily he was, there had been a note of odd resistance to what would usually inflict injury, but with nothing else needed from the medbay, Jazz had been picked up by his partner and carried away. 

At first, he had thought that Prowl was carrying him to his own office, then to Prowl’s office and when that had not been the case it had become clear where this was going. As such, the Polyhexian was not surprised, when they entered their shared quarters and Prowl seated himself on their berth. Sitting upright, door wings to the berth top and legs stretched straight ahead, Jazz was placed on his lover's lap rather gently, his small frame covering the plates of Prowl’s interfacing array just so, the position of it all not lost to the servo sized mech. Even more so, the idea of interfacing with his lover like this was rather arousing.

It was a shared secret between the two lovers that even their rather small size difference was arousing to both of them, so really with the sudden drastic increase of size difference between the two of them it was not surprising at all that they ended up in the berth. Perhaps Jazz would have expected a bit more hesitation from Prowl, but it seemed that the reserved mech had discarded any hesitation for the cycle. Something, most likely leading back to the medbay trip just behind them that had assured him that he would not be injuring his much smaller lover, if they got intimate in this state. Still, beyond placing Jazz quite tellingly, Prowl did not do anything further, motivating Jazz to tease his lover.

“Come on Prowler, we both knaw that A’m sittin here fer a reason, so why don’t yer stop thinkin bout whatever yer thinkin bout and focus on tha fun we could be havin, hmm?”, visor bright and a big grin on his faceplate, Jazz ground his own small interfacing panel on the big one he was sitting on. It seemed that his words, or perhaps actions, had drawn Prowl out of whatever stupor he had been in as his helm optics visibly snapped to look at the juncture connecting both of their panels. And then, quicker than Jazz could have reacted, he was picked up in a loose fist wrapped around his middle, pinning his arms to his side. Prowl didn’t lift him a lot, only enough to have him hover over his interfacing panel, but it was enough to have Jazz protest with a “Hey!”. Alas, that changed little as a dark smile grew on Prowls faceplate and his optics dimmed as he tutted at his much smaller lover.

“Now, now, you and your hurrying. I’d much rather take my time with you and well, you’re not really in a position to direct our encounter Jazz. So open your panel and don’t overload.”, where his voice had been somewhat teasing, the last part was an order and Jazz swallowed his visor brightening. Opening his interfacing panel, revealed his valve and spike. Just like the rest of his frame, his equipment had shrunken and Prowl had to note that it looked almost adorable, and unbelievably hot. His lover’s spike was just big enough to be pleased by the last segment of his digits and was quickly pressurizing, betraying Jazz eagerness as much as his words had and the pink translucent sheen already beginning to cover his cute little valve.

Lowering Jazz down again, he pushed him a little tighter down than he had been just sitting and began to rub his lover over his panel. Cute little valve smushed down on his panel, he watched as a small wet patch began to grow on his panel, his lover whimpering and twisting in his grip as his valve folds and anterior node were rubbed against the metal without any regards to his own pleasure. “O-oh come on, this ain’t f-fair.”, Jazz complained, but Prowl disregarded the complaint without a comment, simply continuing to grind Jazz into his panel until he felt that his panel had become wet enough to take it to the next step. Lifting Jazz again, there came a hopeful whimper from the Polihexian, alas it wasn’t meant to be. While Prowl indeed opened his own panel, revealing his own valve and his quickly pressurizing spike, he still didn’t impale Jazz on it. 

Once again the smaller mech was lowered, this time however, Prowl rubbed him against his spike, grinding up from time to time to keep the rhythm ever-changing. The longer this continued, the less Jazz focused on the hope of being actually fragged and more and more on holding back his overload. Even without penetration, the feeling of his lover’s spike grinding over his anterior node and valve entrance was arousing, and the visual of a spike almost the size of himself being pleasured by rubbing his frame against it was hot as well. It was when it became harder and harder to keep his overload at bay, that Jazz spoke again, interrupted by his own gasps and keens as he did so.

It took a few attempts before he got the words out, but once he did, Prowl simply hummed before saying “No.” and giving an especially vicious grind upwards and into Jazz valve. The longer his overload was denied, the blurrier the world around him became as the spymaster focused himself on not overloading. It was as such that he missed the way Prowl began to speed up and move out of rhythm as his own overload approached. Only becoming aware of it when it happened. 

Pulling Jazz down once more, this time Prowl aimed his spike towards the entrance of his dazed little lover's valve. Even aroused and wet as it was, the small valve struggled with the size of his spike and Jazz whined and keened at the feeling of the big spike head pressing into his valve entrance without backing off until it finally popped in with an audible pop. However, the pop was overshadowed by the low groan of Prowl as his spike head popped into the tight valve, clamping shut right behind his spike head, and came, as well as Jazz near scream as he overloaded as his valve was stretched open and filled with hot transfluid.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #micro/macro #day 1 #transformers #transformers g1 #jazz #prowl #jazz x prowl #valveplug

[anon-e-miss]

Hazing - 2

Prowl raised his servo, shielding his optics from the sun beams that broke through his window. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His hood bounced up and Prowl flushed with shock and anger. Though he pushed it down hard, the latches would not hold. As he held his hood down with one servo, Prowl ran the other down his belly as he reached for his groin. Like his hood, the latches of his girdle had popped, no doubt from the kilolitres of transfluids someone had flooded his gestational tank with. Despite his best efforts, Prowl could not latch his girdle, even though he pressed his bloated belly so hard half processed transfluids spurt from his valve and he collapsed with a groan. Who? Who had fragged him?

He remembered the team tying him up and shoving stylus’ into his aft port, valve and spike and Prowl remembered them pushing spike rings down his spike and latching a clamp to his node. They had snickered as they had forced his charge to rise without relief, that was the sound his helm had gone blank at. Sometime later, someone had come. Not only had they come into his office, they had come in him. His panel was still pulled back and Prowl gasped as he found his valve folds tender and gaping. Just from moving a little, he knew his afthole was in a similar state. How many mechanisms had fragged him while he was out? Who? The Spec Ops agents were not large mechs. Had they fisted him to leave him in this wrecked a state.

The stench of interface hung in Prowl’s office. It stank of stale transfluids. He pushed himself up and slid off his desk, hobbling as he tried to stand. Pools of transfluids were on his desk, more were on the floor. There was no way Prowl was going to summon a cleaning crew for this. His team knew what they had done but no one else needed to. Prowl could not afford to develop that sort of reputation. It would be a fight to regain his footing with the operatives. As Prowl looked at the stylus’ scattered all over the floor, he promised himself that he would put each and every one of them in their place, all Prowl had to do was sort out how. His processor fixed on this as he scrubbed his desk and then the floor. They might have outnumbered him but who was to say he had to take them at the same time?

“Ya got a lil stain there by yer keyboard,” Jazz noted as he sauntered into Prowl’s office. Startled, Prowl sat up straight and the tape holding his hood down gave and it popped back up, almost hitting him in the face.

“Ya almost wouldn’t know,” Jazz said, putting a cube of black energon down on the stained bit of desk. “After a few cycles o’ air filtration, ya won’t smell it quite the same. But y’re gonna look at that spot ya hit wit yer trash can ‘n that one on yer desk, ‘n yer gonna remember. When ya get up, y’ll leave a puddle in your chair.”

“You,” Prowl hissed. “You fragged me.”

“It was that or had ya o’er to Pharma to get yer charge drained off,” Jazz replied. “I didn’t think ya’d like havin’ that report on yer record.”

“No,” Prowl agreed.

“Look at ya wit yer armour taped,” Jazz teased him. “Ya look like a freshmech after a college party.”

“I blame you for this,” Prowl hissed.

“Yer hood popped all on its own, Prowler,” Jazz told him. “That’s what ya get wearing a chestplate two sizes too small.”

“It is not,” Prowl countered, blushing a deep red. Jazz laughed and he flicked Prowl’s hood and it bounced up into his face again. A moment later it was gone, not down but gone. Prowl covered the whole as his wells all but spilled out of it.

“Three sizes too small then,” Jazz replied. He brushed his digit over Prowl’s nozzle. “What’s this.”

“Ack!” Prowl gasped as Jazz flashed the drop of energon at him, and then licked it off all the while keeping optic contact. He flushed with humiliation.

“They keep ya ‘way from yer bitty all dark-cycle?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Prowl replied. “The progenitor has custody.”

“Poor Prowl,” Jazz said. Prowl was frozen as Jazz peeled his chassis off him and left his engorged wells to fall free. “Wit wells this full the bitty’s gotta be pretty fresh. Ya outta still be recoverin’ not workin’.”

“Sentinel gave his orders,” Prowl replied.

“How can he give a Copbot orders?” Jazz asked. Prowl blanched. “He let one o’ his freaks breed ya, Prowler? Then give the bitty to the freak?”

“What do you care?” Prowl asked.

“Call me old fashion but I think bitties are best left with their oris ‘less that ori’s a piece o’ scrap,” Jazz replied. He leaned across the desk. “Are ya a piece o’ scrap?”

“No,” Prowl replied.

“I have to agree,” Jazz said. “Ya did good work for me ‘n mine. Every spot ya tweak in that brief was on point.”

“I am pleased your recovery mission was a success,” Prowl replied.

“It’s cute that ya mean that,” Jazz declared. “Sincerity’s an odd thing ‘round here.”

“What do you want, Jazz?” Prowl asked.

“Since ya got me ‘n mine back safe, I figured I best check up on ya,” Jazz told him. “‘N since I helped ya pop yer latches, figured I’d best help get ya sorted too.”

“Oh,” Prowl said. “Stand up, Prowler,” Jazz said. “Take that girdle off so I can take yer measurements.”

Prowl did not have to obey but it seemed foolish to refuse the help. He had been struggle to think of a way to escape back to his own barracks with his armour in such disarray. Jazz was not servos off as he took measurements, not at all. The tactician was keenly aware that this mech had fragged him but he did not remember a moment of the act. He could not stand with his legs together due to the way Jazz had ravaged him. How did a mech a full helm shorter than Prowl possess a spike that could do that sort of damage? Jazz brushed his digits over Prowl’s belly, over the stretch marks that glared on his sentio-metallico. It was less loose now, because of the transfluids Jazz had filled him with but it was still soft.

“I couldn’t even tell ya’d just popped out a bitty,” Jazz told him. “Ya healed well from it.”

“I heal quickly,” Prowl replied.

“On the surface,” Jazz replied and Prowl’s optics narrowed. “Ya can’t play meek wit me, Prowler, I work wit ya. Ya put yerself under his thumb ‘cause ya know yer only chance to e’er see yer bitty is through ‘m. Yer spark sick.”

“My spark is none of your concern,” Prowl countered.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jazz said. “I like what yet processor can do. Don’t let it break on me.”

“No one and nothing can break me,” Prowl replied.

“Those afts out there are in for an education,” Jazz guessed.

“Stay out of my way,” Prowl insisted. “Or you’ll learn the same lesson alongside them.”

Jazz did not ask Prowl’s opinions for his armour. When he returned with it, well after the usual work joor was over, Prowl sighed at the sight of it. It was snugger to his frame than his old armour, though it was also properly fitted. Adjustable panels allowed for the armour to hug his belly now and still hug it when it had gone flat. His chestplate hugged his wells too, instead of compressing them. Jazz installed something in his subspace and a remote in Prowl’s arm. When Jazz flicked a switch, Domes covered Prowl’s wells, behind his hood, and started to pump. Energon flowered from his aching nozzles. Prowl’s cheekplates flushed.

“Ya don’t wanna let these dry up,” Jazz explained, lightly patting Prowl’s hood. “Yer gonna wanna fuel yer bitty when ya get yer chance wit’m.”

“I have no way to know that will ever happen,” Prowl said, feeling teary suddenly. “Tarantulas is his favourite madmech.”

“Sentinel goes through favourites like most mecha go through towels,” Jazz replied. “Y’ll get yer bitty. Now go home.”

“You do not want to take your due?” Prowl asked.

“Am I due ya, Prowler?” Jazz asked.

“Are you not?” Prowl countered.

“We’ll see,” Jazz replied. He patted Prowl’s back. “Go home.”

Taking a more winding route through the Primal palace, Prowl walked past the mess hall. At this joor, it should have been been empty but a dozen or more mech were milling about. Prowl peered in through the doorway as there was a... shift change between the crowd by the energon dispenser. From the puddle of transfluids and lubricants, Treadbolt had seen a great deal of action already. As he had spiked Prowl’s energon to make him more complascent, Prowl had spiked his. He had slapped on of Wheeljack’s failed ops weapons on the Seeker and then waited for his moment. When the Seeker had tumbled against the wall, Prowl had activated the weapon and Treadbolt had fallen through the wall but only part way, leaving his lower half in the mess.

How long he had been stuck there before someone had taken advantage, Prowl did not know. The Seeker had told Prowl to remember his place, beneath him, beneath all. He was only a Praxian after all. Prowl was curious as to his state and peered into the kitchen on the other side of the wall. Someone else had thought to look here and they were fragging Treadbolts face and recording the act as he ordered Treadbolt to swallow every drop and the Seeker did as he clung to the thigh plating of his abuser. Seekers considered themselves superior to grounders. All ground frametypes existed to serve and to please them. It must have galled Treadbolt to be stuck pleasing grounder spike. His cockpit had popped open, so full of grounder cum as he was. Prowl left his fate. The conductor of his humiliation had been handled, now the rest remained.

#valveplug #anon-e-miss writes #maccadams #tf prowl #tf jazz #nonconsensual #stuck in a wall #hazing #mechpreg

[thinkingheron]

Autobot Jazz Week Day 1 - Behind the Visor

Prowl looked up from the battle reports at the sound of his office door opening and frowned when Jazz shuffled in. "You should be resting."

"You sound like Ratch'," Jazz replied, aiming for his usual cheer but falling short on account of the mess he was in. Ozone burn marks everywhere, armor dented and torn in places, temp patches covering one entire side, and visor shattered in half, leaving one optic bare. The only reason Ratchet would have allowed Jazz out of medical would be because he didn't have enough room.

...or maybe Ratchet hadn't allowed, and Jazz just snuck off on his own when the medic was busy with others. They just had an intense battle at Kappa Pass, securing the passage between Iacon and Kalis. The Decepticons  had brought Bruticus Maximus, while Autobots from both Iacon and Kalis threw everything to defend the area and drive the Decepticons back south. Jazz had been in the thick of it, engaging the combiner directly, and it showed in every bit of his plating.

Prowl kept his disapproving stare until Jazz reached the couch for visitors and sank into it. "Has Ratchet discharged you?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Prowler," Jazz said, fiddling with his broken visor and coaxing it to come loose. Bits of reinforced crystals fell to the floor in glittering patterns. He wagged the unbroken end at Prowl. "And anyway, look who's talking. Optimus specifically told everyone those reports can wait. You're making the rest of us look bad by overachieving, Prowl, including Optimus himself."

Without the shield of his visor, Jazz's gaze was hundred times more intense. Prowl shuddered lightly. "I was not in the center of the fighting."

"No, you were blowing out that powerful processor of yours trying to keep track of and micromanage everything. Ratchet won't be happy if he has to treat you for headache on top of everything just because you don't know how to wind down."

Prowl flared out his doorwings. "I have to keep track of everything, if we are to win the battles."

He'd worked surprisingly well with the lead strategist from Kalis, and Autobot casualties had been at minimum as a result. He was proud of that, if nothing else.

"Ain't gonna help win the war if you burn out first," Jazz replied. He set aside the broken visor and fished out a replacement from his subspace.

Prowl watched Jazz examine the new visor critically, noticing tiny glints from shattered crystal particles still stuck near the saboteur's optics. Before Jazz could attempt to put on his visor, Prowl stood from his chair and strode around his desk. "Jazz, wait."

Jazz stilled as Prowl carefully brushed off the particles. Then Prowl took the visor and sat on the couch to get a better angle at lining up the edge with the connectors on the other's helm, making sure it was inserted in correctly. The visor, custom designed and built to be exact, fit smoothly and Prowl tried not to lament it when Jazz's optics went back to being hidden away.

The visor flickered as it integrated with Jazz's systems. He made minor adjustments for his comfort, then grinned.

"If I'd known all it took to get you away from your desk was to pretend I need help with this thing..."

Prowl gave a small smile of his own. "You are already too good at distracting me from work."

Jazz laughed. "Flatterer."

He shifted on his seat and leaned heavily on Prowl's shoulder, powering off his optics. "Well, I did come here to rest, actually, so let's see see if I can distract you just by recharging."

Prowl started to protest, but Jazz's engines were already purring contently, and really he wasn't wrong about that headache.

Later, when Ratchet came looking for Jazz and yell at Prowl for overclocking, he found the pair in deep recharge against each other on the couch. Tutting, he draped a medical blanket over them and left quietly.

#transformers #transformers fanfic #autobotjazzweek2023 #autobot jazz week 2023 #autobot jazz #autobot prowl #heron writes #better late than never #right?

[giasesshoumaru]

“I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler.”

“I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

“I am a serpent. Horse-biting, poison-toothed.”

“I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping.”

“I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.”

“I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing."

“I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating.”

“I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing."

“I am Anti-Life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything. What will you be then, Dream Lord?”

“Boss? Hey, boss!"

“Still with us, Dream?”

“He is. And it's his move, Your Majesty."

“There are no more moves. What can survive the Anti-Life?”

“Hey, boss. Listen to me. You know what can survive the Anti-Life? You. Dreams don't fucking die. Not if you believe in them. And I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven here, alone, in Hell with Lucifer."

“I... am... Hope."

“Hope."

“Well, Lightbringer? It's your move. What is it that kills hope?”

“Choronzon, give him his helm.” - Lucifer Morningstar, Dream aka Morpheus and Matthew the Raven (The Sandman, Episode 1.4)

#the sandman #lucifer morningstar #lord morpheus #matthew the raven

[thepaintedlady00]

Oneshot(ish): Duel With the Devil (Dreams POV of the duel)

To make up for another cliffhanger here's a little blip of Dreams POV of his and Lucifer's fight that didn't make the final cut of Chapter 7! Enjoy everyone! Thanks so much for all the love! (This is still unedited so if there are any mistakes no there aren't 😅😂)

Matthew flew up to one of the pillars as Penelope let go of his face, he immediately missed the warmth of her. As he looked down at her he had only one thing on his mind. Want. He wanted her more that he was prepared for, he wanted her more than he'd wanted anything. Her heated thoughts on his battle attire still rattled in his head. "This may… Perhaps be a good time for a token of luck," he said, trying to sound casual, like he hasn't been thinking of their near kiss in the side room this whole time. Her wide eyes looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "A kiss perhaps?"

"Clever," her thoughts carrassed against his own as her hands slid up his chest and settled on his shoulders. She was going to be the death of him, not Lucifer. "You have no right looking this good in leather, my lord." The words almost had him on his knees for her. God she was magnificent. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed the warmth of her lips to his cheek, nearly where he needed them. "Win and I'll give you a real kiss, Dream Lord."

"As my lady commands," he said with a bow as he felt the reaction his words had on her. With a deep breath he breathed the fire out, now he needed to focus on the fight. There would be time to test one another's limits later.

Dream couldn’t deny the steady pulse of fear humming through him as he faced off against Lucifer. They were taller, their wings casting a large shadow along the floor. He was the weaker of the two, especially now. But, losing was no longer an option. Looking off to the side where Penelope stood, Matthew perched on her shoulder he felt the weight of her words all over again. I will not leave you. He’d been told by many that they would not abandon him, but none felt the same as hers did. She gave him a smile, one that set his heart ablaze, especially with the warmth of her kiss still lingering on his cheek. He would win. He would do it for his raven, to retrieve his helm but above that he would do it because she’d commanded him to. And because he really wanted that kiss.

“As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move.” Lucifer said with a confident grin.

“Very well,” he answered, ready to end the games. “Make your move.”

 

“I am… a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler.” The vision of Lucifers great wolf baring its teeth and growling filled his mind as he thought on his relatiating move.

“I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.” His horse and its rider entered the vision, the rider a hunter, drawing his bow he shot down at the wolf. Lucifer groaned, lurching forward holding their abdomen with their hand, glaring up at him at the sight of blood. 

“I am a serpent. Horse-biting, poison-toothed.” Lucifer's snake struck out of the darkness, teeth digging into the leg of the hunter's horse. He nearly fell forward as the burning filled his veins. When he'd heard Penelope's strangled breath his eyes went to her immediately. The mark. Damn him he'd not considered what would happen to her during this. He would have to be quicker.

“I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping.” His hawk swooped down and grabbed the snake, twisting its talons into the scaled creature. Lucifer’s head whipped down, the talons cut on their cheek glistening back at him when they moved their hand.

“I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.” Dream was on his knees, arms holding onto himself as he felt the deteriorating of his body. Penelope's stifled noise of pain and the hurt on her face spurred him on.

“I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing.” His green field and bright sun filled skies surrounded them. Lucifer looked around for a moment as the birds chirped and life hummed in the air.

“I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating.” His sky filled with a bright ball of searing light and Fire tore through the green field, burning everything away until nothing but ash remained, Dream included. He lay on the ground, skin burnt and breath weak as hell looked over at Penelope, who was digging her nails into her arm to try and stop the pain.

“I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing.” His beautiful array of bright stars and cosmic clouds.

“I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgment. The dark at the end of everything.” Darkness quickly overtook the stars and clouds until there was nothing but darkness. Dream felt the floor beneath him as he gasped trying to find breath. “What will you be then, Dream Lord?”

Penelope was leaned back against the pillar, gasping for breath. Dream tried to push himself up off the ground, but he was too weak. “I…”

Matthew entered his blurring vision, hopping toward him. “Boss… Hey boss!”

“Still with us Dream?” Lucifer sounded far too smug.

“He is, and it’s his move, Your Majesty."

"There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?”

Matthew glanced over at Penelope before turning back to Dream. “Hey, boss. Listen to me, you know what can survive the anti-life? You! Dreams don't fucking die! Not if you believe in them! And I believe that Dream of the Endless wouldn't leave his raven and his girl in Hell with Lucifer! I know for a fact that that girl over there believes in you! It's ridiculous how much she believes in you, even when there seems to be no hope of winning!"

Hope. He looked back at Penelope. She was his hope, even here in Hell. Their eyes met and she smiled, nearly collapsed in pain and smiled at him. "Come on, Sandy. Not an inch, remember?" 

“I… Am…Hope.”

 

The room flooded with light, his life filling him once again and in turn releasing Penelope from the grip of pain. Lucifer's voice was laced with disbelief, “Hope.”

“Well, Lightbringer? It’s your move. What is it that kills hope?” He said, trying not to sound too cocky. Her scent hit him before he even realized she'd come to his side. She looked over him with a worried gaze, her warm hand on his cheek soothing him, as he pulled her marked arm to his lips, watching the black veins subside before asking, "Are you alright?"

 

She smiled, a relieved noise leaving her. “You just dueled the devil, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to ask you that.”

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#the sandman series #dream of the endless #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #morpheus imagine #sandman morpheus #the sandman x you #sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #oneshot #king of dreams #lord of dreams #the sandman netflix #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction

[ultracreativelywritten]

FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

OPTIMUS PRIME AND HIS AUTOBOTS!!!!

Prowl scowled as he looked over the last report, it was starting to get late. Just as he started to review the report, when a large servo rested on his shoulder.

“Prowl,” Optimus said, “you’ve done enough for the night. It’s time for a break.”

“It’s the last report,” Prowl said, “I’ll finish this now.”

“You’ve been in here all cycle,” Optimus said, taking the data pad out of Prowl’s servos, “It’s time for a break.”

“Optimus I’m fine,” Prowl grumbled. The prime didn’t listen, and picked up his third in command. “Optimus put me down!” The prime ignored him, and walked out of the office. Prowl grumbled, but let himself be carried. The police car could always try to escape to his work later.

“Look who’s joining us for movie night!” Optimus said as he came into the main rec room. Some of the other Autobots cheered. Bluestreak walked towards the two, two mugs of warm energon with aluminum puffs floating in the drink.

“Finally, we were worried you crashed again,” Bluestreak joked. Prowl grumbled something in auditable, he didn’t crash that much. Optimus laughed and started to walk toward a table, Jazz and Ironhide were sitting along the edges.

“Prowler! Finally joining us for movie night!” Jazz said.

“It’s good for you to take a break from your work every now and again,” Ironhide joked.

“Very funny,” Prowl grumbled as Optimus put him down, “for the record, I do take breaks.” Jazz stood up and Prowl shimmied in, sitting next to Ironhide.

“Bluestreak,” Optimus said, “why don’t you sit with us?”

“I would be glad to,” Bluestreak said. He shimmied next to his brother, placing one of the warmed energon mugs in front of his brother. Optimus and Jazz sat back down, and the lights started to dim. The movie started, and Prowl took a sip of his warmed energon. As Bluestreak rested his helm on Prowl’s shoulder, the police car smiled.

#transformers #transformers g1 #optimus prime #prowl #tf prowl #jazz #tf jazz #ironhide #bluestreak #fluff

[commander-card-corner]

Frodo, Sauron’s Bane

Frodo, Sauron’s Bane   W

Legendary Creature - Halfling Citizen

W/B W/B: If Frodo, Sauron’s Bane is a Citizen, it becomes a Halfling Scout with base power and toughness 2/3 and lifelink.

BBB: If Frodo is a Scout, it becomes a Halfling Rogue with “Whenever this creature deals combat damage to a player, that player loses the game if the Ring has tempted you four or more times this game. Otherwise, the Ring tempts you.”

This is a very interesting pick for a commander that utilizes the most enticing mechanic from Tales of Middle Earth. The Ring tempting you, as a mechanic, is powerful in repetition. But how often can you get it going in White/Black?

This Frodo, by himself, can have the Ring tempt you, though it’s difficult to do. Otherwise, there are 19 other cards that can go in a deck with Sauron’s Bane as the commander that can cause the Ring to tempt you. Of these, three of them are repeatable (though Witch-king of Angmar only tempts you when you take combat damage), and one of them is Nazgul, which you can have nine of in your deck and tempts you when it ETB’s. As for the other one-off Ring tempting effects, you have such options as a flicker effect, kill spells, some graveyard retrieval, a mana rock, and a delayed boardwipe.

So overall, it’s not impossible to get to stage four of the Ring tempting you. So how do you get Frodo in? Well the Ring’s first mode prevents creatures with greater power than the Ring-bearer from blocking, but there’s plenty more that can be done. For example, also new to this set (and a card I’ll talk about later), Bilbo’s Ring, makes the equipped creature unblockable and gives it Hexproof during you turn, and only an equip cost of 1 for Halflings like Frodo. Additionally, The Black Gate can make it so that if you’re attacking the player with the highest life total, they can’t block your creatures. Access Tunnel, Manifold Key, Prowler’s Helm, Rogue’s Passage, Suspicious Bookcase, Thieves’ Tools, and Whispersilk Cloak are all also good cards for making Frodo unblockable.

And since you’re making Frodo difficult to block anyway, let’s give him some equipment that gives you some bonuses when you hit with them. Dowsing Dagger, Mask of Memory, Quietus Spike, Rogue’s Gloves, Umezawa’s Jitte, Vorpal Sword, and Elbrus, the Binding Blade all have triggers that activate when the equipped creature deals combat damage, which Frodo most likely will be.

Overall, Frodo is an interesting commander to build around. It might take some finnicking with the ratios for how many ring tempting cards you’d like. But once you find the ratios you like, it should be a fun deck that may or may not make you a target at the table.

#mtg #edh #commander #magic #tales of middle earth #lotr

[kayanarendra]

In the realm where worries dwell, The Prowler roams, not to sell his fears to the anxious night, but adorned in cunning light; when things goes south, daring to contrive, with the charm of feline grace he leaves them weak in their knees amidst the chaos in his café's realm, where recipes weave a soothing helm; when all seems lost and veers astray, he brews a potion to still dismay.

[oreolesbian]

my top 10 most anticipated films of 2024

1. Nosferatu dir. Robert Eggers

A gothic tale of obsession between a haunted young woman and the terrifying vampire infatuated with her, causing untold horror in its wake.

2. The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim dir. Kenji Kamiyama

Focused on the mighty King of Rohan, Helm Hammerhand, and a legendary battle which helped shape Middle Earth leading into the events of The Lord of the Rings.

3. Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse dir. Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson, & Kemp Powers

Taking place right after the events of Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, Gwen Stacy leads the newly reformed Spider-Gang in a race against the Spider-Society, led by Miguel O’Hara, to find Miles Morales, who is trapped in the home dimension of the spider that bit him, along with an alternate version of himself as the Prowler, while the Spot begins his deadly attack in his dimension with far-reaching multiversal consequences.

4. Love Lies Bleeding dir. Rose Glass

Reclusive gym manager Lou falls hard for Jackie, an ambitious bodybuilder headed through town to Las Vegas in pursuit of her dream. But their love ignites violence, pulling them deep into the web of Lou’s criminal family.

5. Dune: Part Two dir. Denis Villeneuve

Follow the mythic journey of Paul Atreides as he unites with Chani and the Fremen while on a warpath of revenge against the conspirators who destroyed his family. Facing a choice between the love of his life and the fate of the known universe, Paul endeavors to prevent a terrible future only he can foresee.

6. Drive-Away Dolls dir. Ethan Coen

Jamie, an uninhibited free spirit bemoaning yet another breakup with a girlfriend, and her demure friend Marian desperately needs to loosen up. In search of a fresh start, the two embark on an impromptu road trip to Tallahassee, but things quickly go awry when they cross paths with a group of inept criminals along the way.

7. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga dir. George Miller

As the world falls, young Furiosa is snatched from the Green Place of Many Mothers into the hands of a great biker horde led by the warlord Dementus. Sweeping through the wasteland, they encounter the citadel presided over by Immortan Joe. The two tyrants wage war for dominance, and Furiosa must survive many trials as she puts together the means to find her way home.

8. Queer dir. Luca Guadagnino

Lee is an insecure man afflicted with heroin withdrawl who is driven to pursue a young man named Allerton.

9. Mickey 17 dir. Bong Joon-ho

Mickey 17 is an “expendable”, a disposable employee, on a human expedition sent to colonize the ice world Niflheim. After one iteration dies, a new body is regenerated with most of its memories intact.

10. We Live in Time dir. John Crowley

Centres on Almut (Florence Pugh), a witty, unstoppable chef, and Tobias (Andrew Garfield), a recent divorcee, whose surprise encounter changes their lives. After falling for each other, building a home, and becoming a family, a difficult truth is revealed.

#2024 #film stuff #anticipated #there’s a bunch more stuff i’m looking forward to next year but these cracked the ten! #obvs from my last year list stuff gets moved a lot (aka dune was on my 2023 anticipated list) but we’ll see! #bummed the 4th jordan peele got pushed cause that was definitely on my ten before the move #was looking forward to a double feature w/ eggers ‘nosferatu’ but oh well 😙 #the lotr film is an anime btw for those who don’t know! #feel like that’s an important distinction lol

[fierylittleniece]

❰❰ MEDIC ❱❱ (From Aaron)

❰❰ MEDIC ❱❱ sender bandages receiver’s wounds

She's making it impossible for him to work.

Constantly snarling and fidgeting away from him whenever he touches her. She'd rather bleed out than accept any sort of help. This was her shame to carry, not his problem to solve.

"Get your fucking hands off of me, Prowler." Envy had insisted on keeping her helm on, even when her battle suit needed to be partially cut open to gain access to the wound on her stomach.

#muse: roxanne fury

[racingtoaredlight]

A Very Special Guest Post From Jim Harbaugh Scramble

Reader Jim Harbaugh Scramble won one of RTARL’s many grueling sports pick ‘em challenges, and for his troubles he’s been bestowed the honor of penning a post for the World’s Most Internet Website. Which contest did he win? I’m not entirely sure, and frankly he could be making the whole thing up. But, it’s getting me out of having to do a blog, so I’m not gonna interrogate this thing all that vigorously. 

Take it away, JHS!

If there is one thing that this place does not like, it’s movies. If there is one this place does like, it is drinking. What if we combined the two and presented a SIX-PACK of horror films for your consideration?!? Like it or not, this is what you are getting. But, to sweeten the pot, these will be stand alone slasher films getting the JHS seal of approval. No sequels or franchises here. Any place can cover that. But, what, there’s still more! We’ll even throw in three holiday films, so you can be ready to celebrate 2023 correctly.

#1: Blood Rage (1987)

Before Eli Roth made a turkey day trailer and before commenter approved Thankskilling, there was Blood Rage. Filmed on site in Jacksonville, FL, this tells the tale of twin brothers. One is bad, one is good, but the ol’ switcheroo happens.  he good bro escapes and the bad bro goes on a Blood Rage. Lots of fun one liners and gore in this. Also, an amazing scene of the boys’ Mom talking to an operator, for what seems like 20 minutes. Make this one a holiday tradition.

#2: Don’t Open Until Christmas (1984)

The rare British slasher. Most horror fans know about Silent Night Deadly Night. Bigger fans know about Christmas Evil. This is a deep cut and flips the killer Santa genre around; here there is a killer massacring Santas. The plot doesn’t make a lot of sense, yet it is fun. There’s more violent and in bad taste holiday horror out there, but this one is in a nice sweet spot.

#3: New Year’s Evil (1980)

A Cannon Films cash in on the slasher craze. Pick a holiday that hasn’t been taken, throw in a killer and you’ve got a certified money maker in the 80’s. This plot is probably more nonsensical than the last one. The killer plans on killing a new person in each time zone at midnight. Not sure of the logistics, but he’s going for it. Added bonus is a great theme song.  

#4: The Mutilator (1984)

A group of college kids goes on fall break to an island, only be be mutilated. Who could have seen it coming? No holiday gimmick here, just a great slasher.

#5: The Burning (1981)

A classic summer camp slasher. The camp caretaker was horribly disfigured in a prank gone wrong. Years later, campers and counselors are getting cut up. This one holds its own with the first few F13 movies. Look for a young Jason Alexander, Holly Hunter, and Fisher Stevens. Produced by Harvey Weinstein. SFX by Tom Savini.  

#6: The Prowler (1981)

Before moving up to F13: The Final Chapter, Joe Zito helmed this revenge slasher. Tom Savini handles the SFX (and would go along with Zito to do Friday 4.) Follows the early slasher model of the killer being unknown until the end.   Suspects keep getting knocked off. Who’s the killer?  

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Now, stick around for an added bonus, in true Red Lighter fashion, a second sixer!

Ah, hell, just scroll down to the comments…  

#Guest Post #Opening Bell

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK TWO: ONE COLD TRAIL - CHAPTER 10

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 2 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TEN:  SHAYLINE

“I really don’t like this.”  I mutter as I hand Ashsong’s sword to the guard at the weapons check desk, belt coiled around it.  I slip the two knives I keep snug in the small of my back out of their sheathes and set them down, then, after a moment, I remember the dagger in my boot and stoop to slip that free too.  “Doesn’t feel right.”

“You heard ‘em.”  Art’s got the sword and long knife I gave him bundled up in his hands now, ready to pass that over too.  “We got no choice if we wanna go in.  I mean you’re welcome to head back out an’ join Krakka an’ Big Man if you’d be more comfortable.”

Setting my dagger down, I take a deep breath and start a slow count to ten in my head.  I look at the guard, who took us all by surprise when we first came in since he’s conspicuous without his helm and mask just like Captain Ceinog.  He’s very young, looks to be trying to grow a beard but so far all he can manage is a fine layer of soft down, as carrot orange as the thick mop of curls on top of his head, the sides and back shorn almost sheer to the scalp.  When he sees me looking he picks up my dagger and lays it in the waiting tray with the rest of my weapons, then sets it all in the waiting slot in the rack behind before picking up a small paper chit and pencilling a number onto it.

“Please keep this, I won’t be allowed to give these back to you without it.” He holds it out, eyes flickering quickly away from my gaze, and I’m surprised someone so large and otherwise intimidating can seem so shy.

I snatch it from his hand a little more roughly than intended and he flinches back a little, but I stop myself before apologising.  Instead I look down at the scrawled number on the chit, carefully folding it before I slip it into my most snug and secure pocket, mindful of what he just said.  Art steps forward as the boy produces another tray and sets his bundle down in it, then starts what I’m expecting will be a long, laborious process in order to remove the great multitude of knives he’s carrying.  Rolling my eyes, I step away from the desk and move to the nearest wall, leaning back into the smooth, cool marble.

“Yeah, I know, it’s tough.”  Kesla drops back beside me, crossing her feet as she raises her arms and folds her hands behind her head.  “This’ll be first time I ain’t had Hefdred in easy reach since … Thorin, must be five years. Even the Order seemed polite enough to trust we wouldn’t try an’ start some shit.”

Folding my arms tight across my chest, I make a quiet personal note of the fact that I’ve still got the two stilettos secreted in my bracers, just in case. I also noticed that, while Kesla happily gave up the rest of her blades, she stopped short at handing over the two knives she keeps hidden in her own boots.  That makes me smile a little.

“Thankfully, we’re both smarter than that, aren’t we?”  I cock a brow.

Kesla catches my meaning immediately, grinning with conspiratorial mischief. “What the Terrors don’t know won’t hurt ‘em, ‘less they give us cause.  Imagine Art’s probably smart enough to think the same way we are.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see if we need to.”  I turn back to watch as Art finally pushes the tray back to indicate he’s done, and the boy’s frowning down at the piled tray in front of him, clearly a little baffled by how much razor sharp steel one little bakaneko could carry without anyone actually noticing.  Art, for his part, simply spreads his arms and shrugs, and I can’t help chuckling at how very innocent he seems.  Kesla simply smiles, sighing a little as the young prowler accepts his chit and starts towards us.

Leaning close so I can be pretty sure Kesla will the only one hearing me, I whisper:  “How many blades do you think he’s still got on him?”

“Knowing Art, at least two.  Just in case, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”  I nod, and that has Kesla chuckling.  Art arches his brows, feigning innocence as he joins us but I’m sure knowing exactly what we’ve been discussing.

“That is a ball-ache.”  Art looks back to watch as Yeslee puts down her unstrung bow with clear reluctance, then pulls the arrows out of her quiver rather than going through the rigmarole of taking off her cloak in order to unstrap it all.  The whole time she gives the boy one hell of a stinkeye.

“We’re all part of the great Tektehran Empire now, Art.”  Kesla’s words drip with clear sarcasm.  “They say jump, we ask if it’s all right if we crack our heads open on the ceiling since it’s clearly too low in here for some of us.”

“They just want to deal the table according to their rules, so we have to play with a loaded deck.”  I shrug when the others both turn their surprised gazes my way.  “There’s a reason Min never wanted us to have anything to do with the Empire once the Occupation started.  We might’ve been bandits, but we weren’t crooks. Not like this lot.”

Art cocks his head as he gives Kesla a look, and she just cocks a brow my way. “Sometimes you really surprise me, Shay?”

That makes me frown.  “In a good way or bad?”

“Oh, this one’s very good.”  Kesla lowers her arms and pushes away from the wall again as Yeslee finally walks over, glaring at her chit with clear dismay the whole time.  Behind her, Gael steps up to the desk, and the boy simply waves her away, bowing his head humbly before they’ve even started unbuckling their sword-belt.  They’re as genuinely surprised as I am.

“Well ain’t that a bitch?”  Kesla mutters under her breath, a hint of pure white hot anger just under her perturbed expression.

“Clearly the Silver Order are held to a different standard than common sellswords.” I sigh, an idea that simply makes Kesla’s frown darken a little more.

“Apparently in their eyes, we’re just the help.”  Art shrugs.  “I mean what’d we actually expect, boss?”

The older dragonhalf wizard, Saxiros, clearly seems to be thinking along similar lines, regarding first the boy behind the desk, then Captain Ceinog, with clear disdain, as if he’s just uncovered a cockroach crawling around in his lunch.  The Tektehran captain simply shrugs, laying one gauntleted hand on his chest as he bows and simpers, likely offering up sympathies which I’m sure area as hollow as anything he said outside.

Gael simply shoves past him without a word, making straight for us, and Tulen follows quickly behind, looking back at her superior and their young friend, Jathran, as she comes.

“I’m so sorry.”  Gael sighs as they reach us, looking thoroughly crestfallen.  “That was … completely out of order.”

“It’s cool.  Really.” Kesla just shrugs, taking a deep breath as she clearly gets herself back in order again.  “Clearly they’re just making a point, but even the Terrors ain’t stupid enough to fuck with the Order over something so insignificant as decorum.”

“But it’s a double standard.”  Gael’s gripping her sword so tight at her side I’m sure her knuckles must be white under her gloves, and Tulen’s somewhat shamefaced as she looks down at her own. “If they’re so insistent on taking your weapons, then –”

“Let it go, it ain’t worth it.  Don’t matter how you feel, Saxiros’ll definitely see it as a slight against the Order if you two make a point of being treated same as the rest of us, ‘specially after he got so hot under the collar about it.”  Keska shrugs.  “Look at it this way, you two still got your swords, just in case shit happens to go down while we’re here.”

“How likely you reckon that is then, boss?”  Art wonders.

Kesla grins.  “I highly doubt it.  After all, we’re here on official Order business, right?  What reason would anyone have for starting shit about that?”

We fall into a slightly troubled contemplative silence, although Yeslee’s clearly still stewing.  Looking at her reminds me just how cramped the confines are in this little entrance alcove, essentially a slot in the front of the building opening out from the wide glass doors, while the ceiling’s mere inches above her head.  To be honest, it’s probably a good thing Driver 8 stayed outside after all – if he had come with us he would’ve had to crawl in on all fours.

On the other side, though, it opens out significantly at the end of the passage. Beyond a railed balcony with stairs leading down on either side, I can make out a vast circular room with light pouring in from above, although from here I can’t really make out much more than the far wall.  It seems to open out through more of those impossibly huge windows onto another, smaller veranda, while the clamour of some minor bustle filters up to us from below, so it sounds like, whatever’s down there, it’s something very busy indeed.

Someone’s emerging from below now, climbing the stairs on the left, and the moment they see us all clustered about they pause to take in the scene, examining Saxiros still in deep discussion with Ceinog, Jathran stood by and looking very uncomfortable now.  It’s a woman, perhaps fifty, somewhat short and very curvy, I could almost mistake her for a dwarf if not for her comparatively small feet and hands and complete lack of facial hair.  She’s dressed somewhat simply, her gown and robes soft and light and flowing, something that, to be honest, looks very comfortable in this climate, picked out in shades of black and dark slate grey and bright, gleaming silver.  Her hair’s thick, rich jet black and artfully coiled into a loose knot at the back of her head, her somewhat cherubic face, as olive tanned as her arms and delicate hands, is sultry and very sexy, her eyes so dark they might as well be black.  She smiles broadly as she turns to flow across the marble floor to us, clasping her hands loosely at her waist.

“Mistress Shoon?  Master Foxtail?”

We snap to attention pretty much all at once, Kesla shoving her hair from her face as she stoops a little to offer her hand.  “That’s us, Mistress …”

“Venne Daste, of House Kimahl.”  She takes Kesla’s hand very delicately, barely pressing it, which provokes a frown as she tries to decide how to proceed.  In the end she simply gives it a single light shake and lets go, and Daste simply seems to take it in her stride.

“Well met, Mistress Daste.”  Gael steps forward and bows their head politely, and Kesla’s frown deepens as she realises this was the correct response.  “We’re here on rather urgent business for –”

“Yes, of course, my dear.”  Daste’s smile remains perfectly in place as she turns to face Saxiros and Jathran as they both approach, Ceinog hanging back now.  “Master Saxiros, well met indeed, sir.  A great pleasure to see you again.”

Art snorts a little at that, clearly fighting to stifle a laugh, which draws ireful looks from a few of the others.  At least Saxiros doesn’t seem to notice, instead bowing respectfully as he laces his fingers together across his own middle to mirror her stance.  “And you, Mistress Daste.”

“I’m afraid I must steal away your escort, as we have much to discuss.”  The way she sighs seems entirely feigned. “Master Kell will be with you shortly, he simply has some unexpected business to take care of first.  Regarding some unfortunate violence in the city just last night, I’m told.”

“Goodness, that’s terrible.”  Saxiros frowns for a moment, then bows again.  “But of course, Master Garent and I will be perfectly fine, you may keep them as long as is necessary.  Captain Ceinog has promised us a well-appointed escort from his own garrison to see us safely to our lodgings once we’re done.”  He turns to Kesla at last and gives her a particularly complex, pointed look, but I think I can judge its meaning as well as she does. Ceinog’s on the Order’s Shit List now, and he’s doing what he can to get off it again.

“That’s great, then.  I expect we’ll see you both in passing … whenever.”  Kesla cocks her head on the last word, and Saxiros nods in agreement.  Jathran simply frowns for a moment, then looks at Gael as realisation seems to dawn.

“We’ll see you soon.”  Gael promises, Tulen nodding along.

“Of course.”  He brushes his hand back over his hair, clearly unsure exactly how to react at the moment and scrabbling for familiar affection.  “Take care.”

“We will.”  Gael nibbles their lip a little before they catch themselves, setting their jaw as they regain their composure.  “Same to you.”

Unclasping her hands, Daste gestures towards the room beyond.  “If you would be so kind?”

Nodding, Kesla looks at me, then Gael, who seems to catch her meaning well enough.  When she starts walking Daste quickly falls into step beside her, and I jump to follow as Gael does the same.  Looking back, I see Tulen pausing for a moment, seeming reluctant to just leave Jathran without a word, but after waving to him she falls into step behind Art and Yeslee.

Daste leads us to the balcony and turns left, heading back down the same way she just came.  The room finally comes into view as we emerge from the passage and the light from above hits immediately, afternoon sun pouring in through a vast skylight paned with more of that impossibly huge glass.  I’m still baffled by it, most of the glass I’ve ever come across comes in little panes no more than five or six inches across, so windows tend to be made up of several small leaded squares of the stuff.  A single sheet of the size I keep seeing must cost a tiny fortune all on its own, I can’t begin to fathom how expensive it must be to glaze this whole place.  The way Art’s goggling up at it, he clearly shares my sentiment.

Down below are several long desks set out in rows throughout the room with dozens of clerks working at them, or moving back and forth, passing papers between each station in a constant flow.  As we descend the curving stairs, I realise that, while plenty are working with pen and ink from little wells built into their desks, every station has a strange device set in its centre, looking like a strange, boxy metal beetle.  As we reach the bottom I can’t help myself, I need to take a closer look, so I go to the nearest clerk as they set to work at one. Art’s close behind me, clearly sharing my fascination.

After cranking a sheet of paper onto a roller inside of it, the clerk settles forward on his stool, adjusts a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, and starts to tap away at the selection of strange shiny buttons mounted across the front of the device.  With each press of a finger he pushes down with a loud snapping sound, which seems to accompany a shift in the roller and, inexplicably, the appearance of an inky black letter on the paper.  The speed with which he’s powering these letters out is startling too, his fingers seeming to dance across the buttons almost faster than I can really comprehend. Then the roller reaches its end with a startling metallic ping and the clerk cranks a little lever on the side of the device before pushing the roller back to the beginning, instantly pecking out another line directly beneath the last.

“Gods, that’s amazing.”  I mutter, mostly to myself, but the clerk pauses in mid flow and turns to me, blinking in surprise from behind his lenses.

“I’m sorry?”

“Shay?  Art?” I look back to find Kesla waving to us while the whole group seem to be waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “You done?”

“Oh shit … sorry.”  I grin back at the clerk for a moment, tipping him a little salute before I start back. “Keep it up, that’s absolutely fantastic.”

Art’s grinning as wide as I am while we scamper after the others, who are already following Daste around the side of the room towards one of the corridors branches off this room.  “That’s pretty awesome, ain’t it?  What on earth is that thing, anyway?”

“It’s a Tektehran invention, they brought it along with the Occupation.” Gael answers  “They created them to make paperwork quicker and more efficient. It’s called a type writer.”

“I hate it.”  Yeslee growls.

“Yes, well you would.”  Art flashes a cocked grin as he glances sidelong up at her.  “I think it’s brilliant.”

Daste leads us down the corridor, and as she walks she lets out a deep sigh and brushes her hands up across her face and over her hair.  “Oh gods, I do despise having to be so polite all the time, it’s no end of irritation.  I’m always so much happier dealing with your kind, Mistress Shoon, freelancers like yourself are always so refreshingly direct and straightforward.”

“That’s … good to know.”  Kesla cocks a brow at Gael, who simply shrugs.  “Your accent … you’re from Northern Abharet, originally, am I right?”

“Very good, Mistress Shoon.”  This time her smile’s much more warm and open.  “I was born and raised in Tarraq, originally.  I married into the House, rather than being born into it.  My husband, Mithra bless him, is a good man with a sharp mind, but he has no head for business, so when his father died he bade me take his place in the Authority instead, for I am far better suited to this than him.  And so, I am an Administrator.”

“Well I’m sure there are worse things you could be.”  Kesla considers, then she winces as she must realise how that might sound.

To her credit, Daste just gives her a sidelong look without losing her smile, although it does become a little more sly.  “Like an order-obsessed foreign invader, perchance?”

Kesla frowns back over her shoulder, and I’m sure she’s casting about the relative gloom of the subtly curving corridor looking for more Terror troopers. “That’s not what I –”

“Captain Ceinog and his tin soldiers are a tiresome bunch and I put up with them because I have to, as do many of my colleagues.  There are, unfortunately, some who are happy to work with them, but for the most part those of us who survived the purge when they seized power grovel only as much as we absolutely must.”  She turns suddenly as the wall opens on her right and starts to climb up the tightly twisting iron spiral staircase within the alcove. Kesla scrambles to follow and we all bunch up waiting for our chance to climb after them.

“Yes, Mistress Daste, I’m sure that’s wise, but surely –”

“There are none of those fucking abhorrent Terror shock troops here in the halls of the House, Mistress Shoon, I can assure you of that at least.  I wouldn’t stand for it, and neither would any of the others who have any sense.  The Provisionals have enough sense not to push their luck here anymore than they do with the Order if they want the flow of goods to continue North as smoothly as they have in the past.”

“That’s all very well, Mistress Daste, but surely if, as you said, there are those here who are happy under the Terrors’ thumb –”

“I don’t give two shits for what any of them think, but you can bet every shiny coin in your pockets that they heed what I think all too well. The stupid ones are easy enough to keep at arm’s length, the rest at least smart enough to keep their noses out of our business if they know what’s good for them.”  Daste steps off on the second landing and simply steps up to the far wall as she waits for the rest of us to come up behind her.  Her smile’s gone now, a cooler, more thoughtful look on her face.  “One word to the right people and I can still make life very unpleasant for them, Occupation be damned.”

None of us are particularly out of breath when we reach the top, but we still take a few moments to gather ourselves.  The climb wasn’t too hard, but it was tight and twisty and certainly uncomfortable.

“Then what are we doing here?”  Kesla ventures after a moment.

Daste looks up at her for a long moment, even more thoughtful now. Finally she quirks a brow. “Precisely.”  She turns away before Kesla can respond again, walking on down this new corridor.  “This way. Not far now.”

“Lovely.”  Art mutters under his breath as he starts after Kesla.

Thankfully, as promised Daste stops at a seemingly anonymous door soon after and produces a ring of keys from somewhere in her voluminous robe. Selecting one without needing to look first, she unlocks the door with one quick, easy stroke, then steps aside while holding it open and gestures for us to enter.  Kesla does as she’s bade, Art following, and then it seems to be me. Daste gives me a quick look in the moment that I hesitate, but gives nothing away in her expression.  A little discomfited by that cool gaze, I just duck on in after the others.

The office beyond is significantly larger than I expected from the corridor. Inside the entrance a raised platform leads right and left into other rooms I can’t see, but three shallow steps down the floor itself stretches a good distance to a back wall which, yet again, seems to be made almost entirely of those impossibly large single panes of glass.  The view looks out over the line of trees and open ground between the building and the perimeter wall, but there’s a gap between the trees here, clearly intentionally situated, which lets in plenty of light.  Clearly this is in deference to Daste’s work, since her substantial desk stretches out in front of it, her rich leather seat with its tall back sat facing what I could be forgiven for thinking is open air.

Everything in here is very richly appointed, but in a tasteful way, opulent without being brash.  Where the Silver Order seems to prefer an austere and minimalist approach, here the emphasis is clearly on making sure whoever comes calling knows full well just how well-off and therefore intrinsically powerful the person they’re dealing with is.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.”  Daste requests as she steps into the room behind the last of us, closing the door behind her and slipping the latch as she does it.  I know she does it simply to ensure we won’t be disturbed, but it makes me uncomfortable all the same, and I know I’m not alone, Yeslee looking at the door for a long time after the rest of us start to move again.

Kesla settles into a large, square leather chair facing the desk at an angle, which seems to be almost entirely padding, frowning for a moment as she sinks into it, and I grab the other one across from it before Art can pounce.  He scowls at me for a moment, although he clearly means it in jest, and I simply poke my tongue out at him before sitting down, surprised by how deeply I’m enveloped by the cushions.  The others start to spread out on the long couch set along the raised platform.

Instead of sitting down in her own chair, Daste picks something up from her desk. For a moment I have no idea what the hell it is, it’s like some kind of strange metallic bell-bloomed flower on a little wooden handle, but then she gives it a brief flick and it makes a pretty tinkling sound.  A moment later a small, swarthy man with no hair at all in a very simplistic and extremely well-pressed black uniform emerges from the open doorway on the left of the platform, taking us all by surprise.  I swear Yeslee almost jumps right out of her seat, he’s so stealthy in his arrival.

“Yes, Madam Daste?”  His accent’s even thicker than hers.

“Tea please, Halik.”  Daste replies, finally settling into her chair.  “With a dash, I think.  It’s been an awfully long day.”

“Very good, Madam Daste.”  He bows impressively low.  “And for your guests?”

Daste simply turns to look around at the rest of us, raising her hands in invitation.  Gods … my mind’s gone blank.

“I think tea sounds wonderful, don’t you?”  Kesla raises her brows at me, like she’s seen right through my dilemma.

“Um … yeah, sure.  That’s perfect.  Tea.  I’d like that.  Thank you.”

“Same.”  Art adds, then he seems to remember himself.  “Please.”

“Just water’s fine for me, please.”  Tulen sets her unbuckled sword down on the floor at her feet, frowning down at it a little now.  Seems she’s as unfamiliar with the difficulties of such things as I would’ve expected, really.  At least Gael had the presence of mind to remember theirs before they sat down.

“Well I’d like some tea, please.”  they request, smiling brightly up at the newcomer.  “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

Halik’s smile is blindingly bright.  “Oh no, it’s no trouble at all, honourable Master.”  He turns to Yeslee, whose frown deepens.

“Oh, um … tea.  Please.”

“Excellent.”  He bows low again and is gone almost before I realise it.

Daste snaps something open which gives me a start, and it takes me a moment to realise it’s a paper fan, extremely finely made from the look of it. My father had one, it belonged to his own mother, it was impossibly old but still worked as well as the day it was made.  I feel a little wistful seeing this one.  Daste wafts it briskly in front of her face for a few moments, sitting back with her eyes closed and a subtle smile on her face.  “Halik is a godsend.”

“He seems very pleasant.”  The words are out of my mouth before I realise it.

She has a little chuckle about it.  “He came up with me when I was sent to be married.  He’s watched over me since I was very small.  In truth he’s about all the family I have left these days.  My mother’s still alive in our rambling old house back in Tarraq, but the rest went the way of most of our fortune while I was still a child.  So much for the House of Daste.”

“And your husband too, of course.”  Kesla adds.

“Yes, well Feddo’s seen better days, but he’s good for me all the same.  And we had two strong sons, so there’s that. Gil went the way of many during the Invasion, got it in his damn fool head to run off and join the resistance and ended up dead, but we still have Ked, so at least there’s some hope for the Daste bloodline to carry on into the future.”

Kesla watches her for a long time, a strange look on her face now.  Given what I’ve recently learned about her I think she knows an awful lot about that.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”  Daste’s smile is a little more bitter now as she folds the fan closed again and sets it aside.  “Family is … complicated.  Which is exactly what brought us to this, am I right, Master Foxtail?”

“Oh!” Gael starts a little, sitting upright now.  They’re still gripping their new staff, and they frown up at it for a moment before passing it across Art’s knees and setting it to lean against the full bookshelves taking up the entire wall.  “Um … yes, I suppose it is.  Yes. My father.”

“I’m truly sorry it came to this, Master Foxtail.  Darion is a good friend, he’s done me a great many fine services over the years, and pulled my arse out of the fire more than once in a particularly tricky spot.  I owe him a lot.  That this has happened … I’m truly worried by it.  He’s the best wizard I’ve ever met, I don’t believe he could just fall off the face of the earth the way he has.”

“What brought him here in the first place?”  Kesla sits forward, settling her elbows across her knees.  “If I might ask, that is.  I’m afraid Mistress Thermyse back at the Citadel wasn’t overly forthcoming on details.”

“Unfortunately that’s simply because we don’t know much either.  Darion had a very faint trail to follow to begin with, and while he was following it he played his cards very close to his chest, so when he disappeared he left our own people without anything to go on.”

“These were the same people who fumbled so badly you had to call in help from the Order in the first place, right?”  I can’t help giving voice to my own thoughts.

Daste purses her lips like she’s sucking on something very sour indeed. “The local townsguard are … unreliable at best.  Those that aren’t in the pocket of the Provisionals or worse have enough troubles of their own just maintaining the peace from day to day, and you can never truly be sure which is which any more.  So what little information we’ve been able to drum up on our own has been uncovered by private individuals who work exclusively for people like me. They’re good fighters, like yourselves, but they’re not really made for investigation, and their resources are quite limited.”

Kesla’s thoughtful for a moment, lacing her fingers together as she looks down at them.  “Mistress Thermyse mentioned that someone else went missing before, apparently that was what the senior Master Foxtail was investigating when he disappeared. Certainly it’s a glaring coincidence.”

“One of my deputies, who vanished a month ago with no leads forthcoming.  He was looking into something worryingly similar himself at the time, in fact.  There have been a rash of these disappearances in poorer quarters of the city over the past year, and it was brought to my attention that no-one in the townsguard had or even looked into it.  So I assigned Tedir Harrith to look into it, going through some of the few sources we still had open to us in the Untermer townsguard that we felt we could still trust. Then he went missing under alarmingly similar circumstances to many of those citizens.  This entire case has been a compounding succession of ironies, I’m afraid.”

“Clearly.”  Kesla twiddles her thumbs idly for a few moments, still contemplating.  “I take it Darion was following the same slim trail of breadcrumbs this Master Harrith uncovered.”

“Most likely.”  Daste takes a moment to straighten a few of the already very neatly arranged papers laid out on the table.

“So we’d be best off starting where they did, I’d imagine.”  She looks up at last, sitting back in the chair and looking directly at Daste now.

Daste starts to smile again, although it seems a rather thin and fragile thing compared to before.  For the first time she starts to look old, but still very vital all the same.  “I suspected you might want to follow that line, so I had Halik collect everything he could from both Harrith’s office and his home that looked even remotely relevant.”  She picks up a dark red card folder and holds it out to Kesla, who rises enough to collect it before settling back down.

Opening the folder, Kesla reveals what seems to be an alarmingly slender sheaf of paper indeed.  Altogether there can’t be more than three or four sheets in there.  “This is all of it?”

“Unfortunately so, and from what I’ve been able to garner from it, what there is seems frustratingly tangential, if it’s truly connected at all.  I suspect it means that either Darion found it already himself, or more likely it was already gone before he got to it. Personally, I think the latter is more likely, given how thorough whoever this is has been in covering their tracks up until now.”

“Yeah, I see your logic there.”  Kesla scans the papers quickly, I suspect more for the sake of it than anything else, and by then Halik’s returned, moving with a large, heavily laden tray he handles with perfect ease and poise.  A large, ornate metallic teapot sits in the middle, surrounded by several cups and saucers, each with a tiny silver spoon.  There’s even a bowl that seems to be crammed with little sugary biscuits. My stomach instantly starts growling at the sight of that, and now I realise how long it’s been since breakfast.

As Halik sets the tray down on the corner of the desk, Kesla turns in the chair to face Gael and closes the folder before holding it out to them.  They blink for a moment, then rise with simple elven ease, step forward to collect it and return to their seat in three precise motions.  By this point Halik’s already poured out a well-steeped cup of very rich smelling tea into one of the cups, and is now reaching inside his uniform jacket. I have a moment where that overly-wary deep-set part of me almost jumps up to intercept a perceived threat before it presents itself, but I restrain it even before he produces a small metal flask. Unscrewing the cap, he swills it for a moment before pouring a little into the filled cup, which he then holds out to Daste.  “Madam?”

“Thank you.”  Daste’s smile broadens as she takes hold of the rim of the saucer and takes up the spoon, giving the tea a gentle stir for a few moments before setting it aside and lifting the cup to gently blow across it before taking a sip.  Closing her eyes, she smacks her lips gently and sighs deep.  “Oh … blessed Mithra, that’s better.”

Now he’s holding one out to me, and I realise it’s simply by virtue of me being closest, it seems.  I simply stare at it for a long moment, it takes me that long to remember myself, then I take it with a muttered:  “Thank you.” As I draw it close I realise there’s three of those little biscuits arranged along the rim of the saucer beside the cup, and I realise that Halik’s already anticipated my roused appetite.  Wow … this guy really is good.

Gods … that little whiff I got when he came in really doesn’t do this stuff justice, this tea smells incredible.  I just inhale it for several moments, indulging my powerful orcish sense of smell, and when I look up again I find Kesla’s got her own now, watching me with an amused smile as she gives her own cup a gentle stir.  “Y’know, Art does the exact same thing when we get good tea. Or even just good food.  Hell, when we get some good wine he turns into a right little connoisseur.”

“Oi, I will not stand for being called something when I dunno what it means.” Art snaps, fighting to hide a smile as he pretends to spoil for a fight.

“Relax, fuzz-head.  It just means you got a nose for the finer things.”

Art cocks a brow and sits back.  “Oh. Okay, that actually sounds pretty cool.” He turns to Tulen and grins wide. “I’m a connoisseur, apparently.”

“Fancy that.”  Tulen replies, smiling back just as brilliantly, and several of us burst out laughing while Art starts to pout a little as he realises he’s become the butt of a joke after all.  It doesn’t last long though, as Halik arrives to offer him a cup of his own and his face changes instantly once he gets a whiff of the tea.  Clearly he’s as impressed as I am.

That’s it then, I don’t wait any longer.  I blow gently over the surface to cool it just a little and take a sip and For several moments everything simply goes away as the flavour just pops in my head.  My father loves tea, he would always drink it in lieu of the cheap coffee most of our company would brew, but generally he’d have to make do with whatever he could get a hold of.  Even so, he made a very big deal about doing it just right, no matter what quality or type of tea he had, and through him I learned to appreciate even the fairly cheap stuff that we tended to see.  This, however, is like nothing I’ve ever drunk before.  “Wow.”

“This is excellent tea, Mistress Daste.”  Kesla smacks her own lips, her smile becoming more indulgent. “My compliments, Master Halik.”

“Why thank you, Madam Shoon.”  Halik bows deep, but somehow it doesn’t seem to cause so much as a ripple in the cup he’s passing to Yeslee, who takes it with a polite little nod.

“It’s my family’s own brand, one of the few things I have left to my name that still generates revenue to keep the estate afloat.”  Daste nods too in appreciation of the compliment.  “I’m very pleased you like it.”

“Reckon Wenrich’d like this.”  Art admits.

Gael nods as they inhale their own, their smile quite subtle.  “He does enjoy fine tea.”

“I assume you mean Master Clearwood?”  Daste’s simply looking into her own cup, as if trying to divine something from it, but then she looks up at Gael specifically, clearly making the connection clear.

The degree of awkwardness throughout the group seems to vary in the following pause, and in the interim Halik returns from his room off to the side with a second tray bearing a large jug of water that’s clearly quite cold due to the condensation on it, and a tall empty glass.  He sets this next to the tea tray and fills the glass with a deft hand before carrying it briskly to Tulen, once again causing no discernible ripples at all. I’m still in awe of how smoothly he moves, it’s genuinely uncanny.

In the back of my mind I’m starting to wonder if he might actually be some kind of master warrior underneath what might actually be simple feigned subservience. Maybe he’s not Daste’s servant at all, but instead her bodyguard.

Whatever, the next moment he’s just gone, it takes me quite by surprise.  I turn to Kesla but she’s simply dunking the one biscuit she was given into her tea now, letting it soak a little, so I don’t think she caught it.  I’m not really sure I really did either, anyway.  I decide not to bring it up.  Instead I try dunking one of my own biscuits in the tea, letting it sit for a few moments and then lifting it out to take a bit.  It’s soft and chewy and rich from the tea but also extremely sweet.  After swallowing this initial bite I don’t even bother dunking again as my hunger takes over, I just pop the rest of the biscuit into my mouth and start munching.

“To be honest, I would have expected Master Clearwood to have come himself on this matter.”  Daste sets her cup down at last, looking at Kesla again.

Kesla simply returns the look, unfazed now.  “He had a little difficulty recently, so he’s resting up.  We came in his stead.  We got a stake in this, anyway.”

“Clearly.”  She fiddles with the papers on her desk again for a moment.  “I’m sorry I can’t give you better leads to go on right now, the simple matter is that we’re all entirely at a loss, and it’s become alarming. I’m sorry for what’s happened to Darion, but I must look to my own first, as I’m sure you can appreciate. This is clearly something much more serious than some disappeared workers and families and vagrants.  Not that I’m trying to overlook our less fortunate citizens in any way.  I simply worry this is only the beginning, a precursor to something far worse.”

When she looks up this time any mask of calm or propriety she may have been maintaining until now is starting to slip, and I can make out what’s hiding underneath.  Fear, pure and simple.  It’s very restrained, she clearly has a handle on it, but it’s there all the same. She’s genuinely scared.

This time when I look Kesla surprises me as I find she’s already watching me, wary again, and I realise she’s been following my train of thought.  She takes a deep breath, and sets her cup down on its saucer before putting the whole set-up very carefully down on the broad, flat arm of the chair.  “We understand, Mistress Daste.  Of course we do.  Obviously we got our own reasons to be here, but that don’t change the fact that we got a job to do.  Clearly the best, surest way of going about it’s doing the job Darion Foxtail was sent for before he disappeared, and with a bit of luck it might lead us to him too.  So of course we’ll help you, you don’t even gotta ask.  Right, Gael?”

“I just want to help my father.”  Gael sets their own cup down on its saucer too, holding it in both hands, somewhat awkward now.  “I appreciate that for some of you this is bigger than one missing wizard, but I can’t afford to think like that.  All I care about is finding him before …”  They falter, looking down into their tea, finally just sighing before their resolve returns.  “I’ll do whatever I have to, and I know my friends will help however they can.”

There’s another thoughtful silence after that, and the whole while Art munches away on a biscuit.  Finally he swallows, licking his lips.  “Yeah. What Gael said.  Definitely.”

Daste looks at us all for several long beats, thoughtful again.  Finally she settles back into her chair as she picks her fan up again and snaps it open with one deft flick of her wrist, wafting it gently under her chin.  “Thank you. I’ll do what I can, although what I just presented to you is essentially all we seem to have left, so I can’t think how else you could even start.  All we have is what little my own investigators, such as they are, managed to dig up.”

“Well since that’s all we have, then we might as well start there.”  Kesla picks up her cup again and takes another sip. “Mmmm … maybe you could just introduce us to whichever one of these people you hired you think would be best for us speak to.  The smartest one, say.  The most capable.”

Thinking for a moment, Daste reaches across her desk again and picks up a small slip of blank paper from a small tray set to the side, then takes the quill from the ink-well and starts writing in a smooth, practiced hand.  “That would be Sonagh.  You’ll find him in the Drumhalt.  I’d warn you that he’s not what you’d normally expect in this profession, but …”  She looks at me and starts to smile again, which makes me uneasy for no reason I can immediately fathom.  “I don’t really think I need to worry about that at all.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of The Creeping Bam #book 2 chapter 10 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Prowler's Helm

"The youths prattle on about heroic deeds, but avoiding the noose is a feat more daring than their entire careers." —Basarios the Blade

Artist: Igor Kieryluk TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$0.58 #igor kieryluk #prowler's helm #theros #artifact #equipment

[5ecardaday]

Prowler’s Helm– Wondrous item, rare (requires attunement)

Though similar in appearance to traditional helms worn for battle, the colors of this helmet are muted, consisting entirely of greys and blacks. While wearing the prowler’s helm, you have advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks made to avoid being seen. In addition, whenever you begin your turn in dim light or darkness, you become invisible until the start of your next turn or until you take an action. While wearing the prowler’s helm, if you make a melee weapon attack against a creature that has not seen you and the attack hits, that attack is an automatic critical hit.

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#dnd #dnd 5e #mtg #dnd homebrew #5e magic items #mtg ths #theros set #theros block #magic item #wondrous item #rare #requires attunement #artifact #equipment #prowler's helm