#So that's how I came to be stuck in the goblin camp forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idjitlili · 3 years

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The Goblin king...the one without warts.

Thorin x reader.

(Not my image.)

Summary:Imagine being apart of the company, of course Gandalf shoves you in with no choice. Growing close to Thorin eventually, after stopping at an inn.

A/n:Anon request includes ,but I won't spoil it. I do not own any characters.

Word count:4682

Characters:Y/n, the company, humans, elves, and David Bowie as Jareth.

Songs:ziggy stardust, as the world falls down.

Warnings: Alcohol, just ale. Uh mentions of jareths pants , and reference to a jareths 'magic'

It's only forever, it's not long at all. Only if we have forever, but we all die. We are not elves, we are not Morgan Freeman. Unless, you aren't telling me something?

Thus, you must take risks; to live the life you want to. The reason that you finally agreed to go an adventure, via Gandalf's request. Not that the leader of the group, that you'd be joining on this adventure, did not like the fact that a hobbit was joining , let alone alone you, a human, female. Not impressed to say the least.

You had just ignored the tree trunks insults, and seeking the company of the small hobbit. Both of you were in the same position, except you could maybe launch Thorin over a cliff.

Unknowingly Thorin had created a friendships, well between you, Bilbo, Fili and Kili. After you and Bilbo had decided to mock Thorin in secret.

"Wait, wait, I've got one." Standing up placing one leg on the log, hands on hips, head up , shaking you head slowly as if the wind was blowing it. "How's my hair?" Mocking Thorins low voice, looking at Bilbo who had stopped giggling, moving his eyes crazily to gesture behind you.

Turning your head slightly, to see Thorin staring at you. " Can I help you?" Unmistakable using a lower voice than normal, Thorin scrunched his brows together slightly. "What are you up to?" His eyes glazing over your stature, and posture.

"Oh, If you must know, Bilbo has been making sure that my family jewels have not dropped off due to my massive ego, last time he had to stitch them up because I am such a prick. Not that I could produce because I'm like 160." Maintaining eye contact with Thorin, chest fully pressed into the air, basically superhero pose, now off the log.

Thorin did not understand what you were talking about. "Get your things , we are moving on." Bilbo had just covered his mouth facing down, his eyes looking up.

“Do not test me , Y/n, I will throw you off a cliff, as if you was an end of bread. You are not worthy of this journey," Kili and Fili had been sat by, watching the scene unfold, as Thorin just stared at you. Kili walking over to you.

"Uncle!"

"My sisters son," Pulling Kili into a bear hug, him being the little bear, before pushing him off of you. "Get of me, people will think I'm soft, I am pure steel." You had not even noticed Thorin leaving.

"That was horrible," It really was, could you be anymore cringy? "You annoyed Uncle though, I am surprised he didn't put you into line." Fili didnt speak much, but when he did, it wasn't useless trivia.

"My arms may have no muscle, but does not mean I couldn't carry both Bilbo and Kili to their horses." Okay, maybe you would be able to actually, but it gained the trios attention. "I highly doubt that, y/n"

Bending your knees so that your back was in front of Kili, hands ready to grab his calves. "Y/n, are you sure? I don't want you t-"" we don't have all day, Kili."

" okay, Thorin." You had scoffed, as Kili had managed to get on your back, arms around your neck, legs around your front. "No, no,no not me." Bilbo shook his head furiously, in disagreement , as you gestures for him to get up. "Bilbo , please." Bilbo had sighed , as Fili watched you then pick up Bilbo, holding him Bridal style.

It was like carrying nothing, it was definitely a lot of weight, yet you still put in a face and walked through camp with them. Even if you couldn't fight, you weren't completely weak.

You had gained the attention of the dwarves, who Kili waved by in excitement , Bilbo just pretend to be dead in embarrassment. Thorin had caught your eye for a second as you walked by him, lift Bilbo onto his pony, Thorin told you pack, you were packing...Kili had then gotten off your back when you had kneeled down.

But what you didn't know, was that Thorin eyes were on you most of everyday during the the journey, you just happened to be oblivious to the gazes on you.

If you did catch Thorins gaze, you just thought that he was judging your actions,others picked up on their kings behaviour. Though they did not tell you, they did tease Thorin. Well only Dwalin , Kili and Fili dared to. Actually it was Bilbo who noticed first.

It was probably a few days after almost being eaten by trolls, that Thorin had began to develop feelings. At first he had just thought that you were mildly annoying like his nephews, that impression, was terrible. But once you were all captured by trolls...

You had pretended to be dead, the trolls had tossed you aside, and every time they were not looking you would crawl slightly. Tossing you aside for dessert. Thorin had caught this. Pulling faces as at him, as you slowly got closer, Thorin watching for the trolls.

When you had gotten next to Thorin, you had pulled a knife from you pocket , cutting the sack he was in. You had cut through quite a bit of the sack; when Thorin had pulled his hands out lifting you , shoving you into the sack with him, just as Berts eyes had glided over the dwarves.

That was when the trolls had noticed you had disappeared, but you were stuffed into the bottom of Thorins sack. You were too tall for the sack, your legs curled up, back inbetween Thorins legs. "Where is the human?!" The trolls had began to looking around finding no sign of you ,the moved on soon enough.

"Uh...the-the secret to cooking dwarf, is um..." Bilbo had tried to distract the trolls , after seeing Gandalf of course you couldn't see , you could only smell Thorin.

"Uh...not...not that one, he...he's infected!"

"You what?"

"Yeah he's got worms in his...tubes."

"Ooh!"

"In-in fact, they all have. They're infested with parasites, it's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" The dwarves were not the smartest bunch to say the least.

"Yeah, we don't have parasites! You have parasites!"

Thorin had realised that Bilbo is trying to buy them time and kicks Kili, but ends up smacking you with his calf, making you groan , only for Thorin to gently squeeze your shoulder, the trolls had been too busy listening to dwarves , that they never heard your quiet groan.

Gandalf soon had arrived, saving you all as always, the trolls turned to stone. It didn't take long for Bilbo to realise you were missing still. "Where's y/n?"

"I'm over here, Bilbo." You could not get out of the sack neither could Thorin, without someone helping you out. Kili being next to Thorin, had heard your voice, turning to see his uncles, feet looking a bit too pointy. "Where?"

Bilbo had turned in circles in search, Thorin just later there with the most unimpressed face.

"Bilbo, she's over here." Bilbo had hoped over , out of the sack, before opening the sack at the top to allow Thorin could shuffle out. Standing up, Thorin had pulled you up and out by your hand.

"T-thanks, um, your thighs are very comfortable, if I was murderer , I would make them into pillows. Oh, um, thanks , uh," your face flushed pink, noticing how you sounded and that both Bilbo and Kili was right next to you. Sometimes you are ought to think before you speak, a common term taught to children, yet you do not. You had rushed off back to camp, after that.

Tis was a compliment to dwarves for a woman to comment on their thighs or stature.

That was it, Thorin began to notice things about you, you helping Bilbo onto his pony when he needed help, even if he didn't directly ask. The way you'd slip on mud , even if it was dry, save yourself and look around wide eye if anyone had seen. How your arms got tired as you'd try to plait your hair. Slapping Kili gently on the back of the head if he said something mean about one of the others. Normally Kili picked on Ori's knitting .

Of course, Thorin thought his affections only went one way. You could not deny, the dwarven king was intoxicating, you were highly attracted to him. He was a mean guy, no he was not , he didn't want Bilbo to get killed going in this journey to help him.

You hadn't spoken to Thorin directly really, well until he allowed the company to stop at an

inn for the night, which everyone was happy about. The Dwarves were mostly excited for ale. You just hoped they had a deep clean...

Luckily they did , and soon everyone was a sat tables in the pub, 3 separate ones, you being stuck next to Thorin ,Bilbo next to you, Bofur next to him,Kili and Fili so on. Next came the ale, being pushed in front of you all.

Bilbo asked for a tea, but Bofur wouldn't have it, so there sat Dildo sipping at the pint of ale. Whilst everyone drank down theres soon enough, you just drinking it , because you was shoved against Thorin. After your fourth ale that's when you heard it.

A noise like a hurricane , the soaring winds of the mans pipes opened.

"Oh

Oh, yeah

Ziggy played guitar

Jamming good with Weird and Gilly

And the Spiders from Mirkwood

He played it left hand

But made it too far

Became the special man" Looking over to the small stage, a skinny man, with a huge blond Mohawk stood, his bare chest exposed showing a large pendant on his lower chest.

"Then we were Ziggy's band

Ziggy really sang

Screwed-up eyes and screwed-down hairdo

Like some cat from Japan

He could lick 'em by smiling

He could leave 'em to hang" Your breath hitched, as your eyes travelled down to his pants, he wore a legging type pants, showing off everything

"They came on so loaded, man

Well-hung and snow-white tan

So where were the spiders

While the fly tried to break our bones?

With just the beer light to guide us

So we bitched about his fans

And should we crush his sweet hands?" The dwarves and hobbit noticed your change, following your eyes to the man on stage.

"Do you know him?" Fili had snapped you out of your trance quickly, "o-oh, um, I haven't seen him for a long time."

"Who is he, lass?" Thorin said nothing just stared back between you and the man, as you kept glancing at him. Bofur had waited for your reply, calling over more ales. "my best friend ." That was the truth, not that anyone knew but you had wished yourself away to the goblins, thus a friendship bloomed.

Growing up you didn't have many friends, you still don't , Jareth was always there for you, you didn't want to out him being a fae.

"He was the nazz

With God-given ass

He took it all too far."

That's when he caught your eye, sending you a wink before continuing to sing with ease.

Half an hour later, you were starting to feel a little more free, after more ale, leaning onto Thorin for support.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed." Jareth had started his 15 song of the evening, you had jumped up, well start up. "Thorin! Come on, let's dance." You had pushed him slightly. "Why?"

"Just come on, 'deep in your eyes a kind a pale eye,' that's you so you must dance with me, please." Thorin had finally had budged , standing up, his eyes were gems indeed. You had grabbed onto Thorins hand pulling him onto the cleared floor. You didn't know how to dance not really, but it was the heat of the moment. Well actually you had danced with Jareth during his masquerade.

"Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast." Placing one hand onto Thorins shoulder, the other into his hand, you could only hope you weren't making a fool of yourself. Jareth did like to be generous.

"In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon."

Looking into Thorins , bright eyes, which stared back into yours, you followed suit with steps , you hadn't realised that Jareth had changed your clothes into a white gown and sorted your hair, but the others and Thorin noticed. Following Thorins eyes down to your clothing you had get let out a snort.

"Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone" The dwarves hadn't seen Thorin dance since he was a prince, yet there he was with you dancing. Your eyes never leaving Thorins, as you danced in sync, turning together in a circular motion.

"I cannot wait for you to see Erebor." Thorin voice was quiet not to interrupt the music. You had grinned in confusion. "I thought you didn't want me on this quest? Why would you want me to see Erebor?"

"Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou."

"So that you can attend a proper ball." You had smirked at the King, who just smiled at you.

"Well, you have got plenty of time to tell me all about Erebor, on this journey, that is if you speak to me after this."

"As the world falls down

Falling."

"As you wish." Thus you both just went back to just dancing smiling a little more now.

"As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love." Though there was a room full of people surrounding you, it felt as if you were in your own world. Your own crystal...

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars." You could only hope that everyone would make it to Erebor...

"I'll leave my love

Between the stars

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down" As the song finished, you had pressed a kiss to Thorins cheek, Jareth was having a break, you had let go of Thorin, telling him you'd be right back.

Still in your puffy gown, you had made your way over to Jareth standing at the bar with a glass of what could only be described as some sort of rose fancy drink, fit for a fae king. Jareth had placed the glass onto the side, holding his arms out for you.

Jumping into his arms, spinning you around, legs up , before placing you back onto the floor. "Jareth, I missed you." Jareth grinned back you showing his teeth , "as have I missed you, so you and the dwarven king?" Jareth had looked passed to you to Thorin, you looking back too to see Thorin glaring.

"Uh, I dont know, did you know we was going to be here?" Jareth had grinned larger, confirming his answer. "Come meet my friends quickly." You had grabbed Jareth by his hand leading him to your table.

The dwarves and the hobbit had looked up from their conversations, mostly with smiles. "Uh, guys , this is my best friend , Jareth, Jareth this is Bofur, Fili,Kili,Thorin and Bilbo." You had gave Jareth a side hug, he had clicked his fingers and you were in your regular clothes. " 'ello," Thorin had looked Jareth over as you squashed next to Thorin ,with Jareth next to you.

"So, what are you?" Kili bluntly asked,staring at Jareth in interest. "He's the g-ubli- king." Jareth had silenced you for a second blurring the word Goblin. "I'm sorry , what?" Bilbo Baggins was always intrigued by others, especially if you looked like Jareth. "He is a king."

"Of what."

"Now that , Bofur, is for you to figure out." Jareth was indeed a confusing, mysterious man, he seemed to have sobered the dwarves up.

"How did you do that with the dress?"

"You are a very curious lot , aren't you? - "

Jareth could be nasty, you were surprised with his behaviour.

"Well, then how did you meet him , y/n/n?"

" she wished to be taken."

"...Y-you are th-" Bilbo knew he had heard of the man he had heard sing, his books had had came in use. But again Jareth had cut Bilbo off, he knew what Dwarves were like.

"Clever hobbit."

Now, my love, if you need me you know what to do." Jareth had turned to you , pulling you into a hug, looking at Thorin, with a devilish grin. Only if you had know what he had put into Thorins head.

Really he just said, "I will turn you into pie for my Goblins, if you hurt my y/n." That was it, he was gone, you had been hugging air for a good second, before turning back to the group of men , who just stared at you.

"Uh? What?" Bofur, Kili and Fili exchanged looks of agreement.

"You and that strange man, yep, that definitely happened." The smirk inlaced into Kili's voice, as he stared at ,waiting for a response. You had only scoffed at " I'll call him back, and you ask him, I'm sure you'd him to make you into a pie for his Goblins." In that moment, Thorin had realised that Jareth, wasn't just a thin stick, he clearly had fed someone to his Goblins before, Thorin didn't want to find out if that was true.

Thus, the subject was dropped, and that was it,though the other dwarves wanted to know what just happened, and Gandalf didn't give a shit or already knew.

Well that was it until you had all left Rivendell , clean for now, only to get captured by Goblins.

No way were they anything like the unwanted children, absolutely. Stuck next to Thorin, you stuck out being human, wishing you had stumbled onto the actual Goblin king. Thorin had pulled you down and shielded you from the whips.

You could only wish... but you didn't Gandalf saved you all again.

Back on the road again, until Thorin gets chewed up by a warg, you rushing towards him, as the dwarves fought off the wargs and orcs. Only for the eagles to arrive , seeing an eagle fly at you and Thorin, you had laid careful onto him. The eagle swooping you both up . "Hey Thorin, are you alive? maybe I can use those thighs a scarf sometime?"

Thorin did not wake up, until Gandalf had done some magic shit, him and Bilbo became best friends.

Then you were all captured...again, by the worst kind of elves. Dumb blonds, no, Thranduil was just a dick. All of you were stripped down to one layer , all but Thorin and you , were shoved into cells. You was asked the general question, why are you travelling with dwarves, well actually that was it.

You had pretended to faint. When Thranduil stood over your head to see your face, you had pretended to wake up, punching him right in the dick. "O-oh my I-"

"Take them away!" Thorin was surprised you were not executed on the spot, oh how he tried to hide his laughter, as the elven knelt in agony ,and you were both dragged away. Shoved into a cage today, before the elves stomped away. Of course , Balin asks Thorin what happened, instead of telling him what you had done, he had simply said about him shouting in Khuzdul.

" Hey, are you coming to my execution tomorrow? I wonder if my last words should be 'being an elf there's only one down fall, once you get to Thranduils age, your cock shrivels up ," Thorin had snorted , and that is when he saw it, your hair...looked like radagasts hair ,but without poop and birds.

Thorins eyes had stared too long, it was clear to you, you were just talking to him, of course you'd see him staring. Your hair. Well yes that was embarrassing, a king was literally making fun of your hair by his silent judging.

"You're judging my hair? Did you not see radagasts?" Thorin had snapped out of this stare, realising what he had been doing, a light blush upon his face. "You are right, " that's he had said, and went back to looking at your hair.

Sighing you had sat on the cold stone, let again breaking Thorins stare. "Are you going to do my hair or just stand there?"

"Are you sure?" Accepting his offer Thorin was quickly sat behind you, combing your hair, of course you didn't know about dwarvish customs. You didn't know you had just accepted his courtship,but you had.

It wasn't long before your hair was braided completely , and just as you had stood up Ori had spoken up. Though you didn't here what he had said but you had heard Bilbo. "Not in here your not." A jingle of the keys and you were free, well lead to the cellars while the others questioned Bilbo.

Soon enough well when Thorin had convinced the dwarves to get in the barrels, via Bilbos request, leaving just you and Bilbo out. Until Thorin had gestured you over, helping you inside the Barrel, but you stuck out more than the others,you wondered why Bilbo didn't get in one with one of the other dwarves. You barely in the barrel when Bilbo had pulled the lever,gripping onto Thorins shoulders as you were both submerged for a spilt second. Thus, you were off , trying to escape the elves , squished against the dwarven king, that you had unknowingly courted.

Kili was shot, and Bombur did some extreme parkour, and boom you had reached land. Soaking, freezing, lucky your hair was all braided back, thanks Thorin. Stopping to allow Kili's leg to be wrapped up , to prevent further blood loss.

Dwalin had almost give you a heart attack ,as you stood twisting the water out of your clothing. "Who did you hair ,lass?" He had basically popped up beside you , inspecting your braids , his voice louder and powerful.

Looking at the dwarf, who looked right back waiting for your answer , already knowing the answer. "Thorin did, why?" Dwalin only hummed before returning to his brother, him surprisingly whispering to his brother, Fili and Kili had looked at each other in disgust. Even though Kili was supposedly in pain.

"Do that again and you're dead." Snapping your head up, to the unfamiliar voice..was that orlando bloom? A human, a man with shaggy dark hair, worn out clothes , beautifully structured face. Boom, you had been able to board passage on his barge.

"Why is a woman travelling with 13 dwarves and a hobbit?" You had coughed, turning around to face Bard, you weren't very sure what you was supposed to say. "Well, um-" " She's travelling with us because she's betrothed to uncle." Fili had spoken up, saving you from revealing everything, still you had turned to Fili, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, Fili and Kili smirked.

"You are courting a dwarf?" Thorin had scoffed, as Bard kept his eyes on the lake, his tone was almost unimpressed. "Well, I almost fucked a fae s-" "y-y/n! That's not a-appropriate." Bilbo had choked out, without a thought.

"Come on, Gaggins, did you not see the pants he wore? His magic-"

"Enough." Thorin had interrupted you sharply, snapping your head towards the clearly annoyed King, walking over to him, punching his cheek. "Awwe, jealous of Jareth? You have a lot to live up to. Does your dick grow even after erecttion? I call it his magic c-"

" Hold on." Bilbo had pointed his pipe at you, staring at you, " How do you know that?" Bilbo had coughed again , with his cheeks red trying not to cry. "Don't tell him, maybe I held eye contact with not his eyes many times without him noticing , plus I asked him if he could grow tall as a house, and he said yeah, so I just assumed. I swear 100% I never walked in -"

"Hello, love." You had jumped out of your skin, turning around, there stood Jareth, your face flushed red, shoving him gently. "Oh- , not nice Jareth, could've died from shock." Jareth only ignored you, looking at your hair, his hand skimming over it , in interest.

"I heard you speaking of my cock, y/n/n, I'm flattered, but with those braids , I'm afraid you are no position to be making advances on me." Lips slightly touching your eyes, as the vibrations of his whisper sent chills down your neck. “Well, what position do you want me in?” Pressing your back right against Jareths, his hot breath heightened onto your jeck. Thorin was fuming with anger, the dwarves didn’t know what to make of the situation.

“Y-y/n, enough do you not know what you have agreed to by those plaits?”

You had turned quickly pulling Jareth away from the dwarves, well as far you could get anyways. "W-what are you talking about? What about the plaits?" Jareth had laughed loudly, getting the attention of the the dwarves , as you reached up to touch the braids.

"Oh, love, you don't know. Those plaits especially when done by a dwarf , signifies courtship, you have accepted." Eyes widened at the king, as he smirked at you, laughing lightly.

"What do I do? I am courting a king, I mean it’s not like I don’t like him , it’s j-“

“You are just being dramatic, you both share affections for each other, so what’s the problem? You know what to do if you need me.”poof he was gone, again.

So you had made your way over to Thorin, pulling him to his feet by his tunic, his eyes wide, as you pressed your lips to his harshly. His hands making their way into your hair, pulling you closer to him, kissing you back.

Your hands now under his jaw, the company well, they were as you could expect...cheering loudly. Pulling away from his lips, still in his hold , as you looked into his bright blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That consenting you to braid my hair , meant that I accepted your courtship? I would’ve anyways, but I had to find out from Jareth, I thought that was just a ruse to explain why I was travelling with a bunch of dwarves.”

“Sorry, thought you knew.”

“You hear that Lads, she thought he braided her hair out of the kindness of his heart.” Company had burst into mocking laughter, but you and Thorin had ignored it.

“Well, if we are going to get married, I need the goblin king as our wedding singer.”

“Goblin king?”

“What? You didn’t know, Jareth is the goblin king. Not that wart of a goblin, “

Thorin had only stared at you.

“No, you can’t kill him, his dick would come off and fuck you in the ass.”

“I’m sorry, who’s dick would what?” Bilbo had popped up , with disgust and confusion upon his face.

#crossover #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #hobbit imagine #hobbit imagines #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x y/n #labyrinth #slight #jareth x reader #thorin x y/n #thorin imagines #thorin imagine #thorin the dwarf #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin fic

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ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

Growing Flowers for the Sunrise

Content Warnings: chronic pain, talks of death, terminal illness

Harry woke to pain.

He didn’t scream, but took a deep stabilizing breath. He was used to the lightning slivers that seemed to live in his veins. But whenever he was doing nothing, it seemed to intensify until sleeping was the last thing in his mind. Muggle medicine was a good friend to him these days.

Another breath and Harry finally placed his feet on the floor, moving through the shivery cold that intensified with every step.

Moping would get nothing done and he was absolutely tired of lying in bed - in pain - all day.

“Winky,” he called. “Breakfast.”

The house-elf popped in, took one look at his face, and popped back out. Breakfast involved a lot of healthy food, along with Willow Bark Tea that he was starting to taste in his dreams.

“Agenda for today?” he asked his frustrated healer.

Daphne Greengrass huffed irritably, hands moving gently along his shoulders and testing his muscles with wandless magic. “Nothing too strenuous. You’re too tired from the last treatment, but Granger’s theory is actually bearing fruit.”

That was very concerning. Harry would have cried if he wasn’t so tired of being in pain.

“That I have too much magic?” he asked. “It needs to get out?”

Daphne nodded, prodding at his collarbone and his ribs with gentle fingers. “I have no idea what magic was going on while you were dueling with You-Know-Who, Potter. But you are practically bursting from it. You need to let it out.”

Hermione’s theory was the Theory of Conquest. No one had actually fulfilled a prophecy in a few decades, but each and every one of those who fulfilled it died in a couple of days. Her theory was that something was given to each person at the end of those prophecies.

It said something about Harry’s pain threshold given that he had survived for two months in constant pain.

Magic being the obvious choice was hindsight.

How to expend magic faster than it replenished was the problem.

Annoyingly enough, that was a problem unique to him.

The Department of Mysteries had a love-hate relationship with Harry.

Oh, they loved him for the challenge he presented, of helping an international hero stay alive and all the troubles that came with it.

They also hated him every time a suggested solution was rejected.

It would be hilarious if he wasn’t dying slowly with too much magic. Harry’s humor had developed a sort of morbid cast to it that made Hermione uncomfortable and Ron smirk unwillingly.

The solutions presented were weird though, ranging from a magic siphoning lotion, to a generator-like machine that needed magic to run.

The latter was the closest thing to a solution Harry had ever had and he actually spent the whole day lounging on the machine, having his magic sucked off and feeling more relaxed in months. (It didn’t last, the machine overloaded with too much magic. The inventor didn’t account for what would happen to all the magic after it got sucked off.)

They still used the MagGen when he had a particularly bad day, with Hermione on the team that modified it and made it better each time, it went from only one day use to a three day use.

Harry hoped Hermione would find a portable solution soon, because being attached to the hip to the MagGen was great, but he wanted to be able to go to Diagon Alley without feeling a thousand needles lodging in his feet every step he took.

Harry woke to the scent of flowers.

“Neville? What time is it?” he mumbled blearily.

Neville helped Harry sit up, the scent of damp earth and various green things clinging to him intensified for a moment.

“Just past lunch,” Neville answered. He patted Harry on the shoulder gently and presented his potted flower, along with a floating tray of food.

“I thought belladonna’s were poisonous?” he asked. The berries on the potted plant were the distinctive ones of atropa belladonna. The color was memorable.

Neville tucked the edges of the blanket around him better. “If you use too much, then it’s poisonous. It’s actually medicinal.”

Harry tried to wriggle free and gave up under a minute. “Neville, I need to eat. I need my hands to eat.”

The herbologist ignored him, grabbing the floating tray and looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was going to spoon-feed Harry.

“Neville, no!” Harry said, renewing his struggle against his blankets and succeeding in getting an arm free. “I’ll eat, I’ll eat.”

Harry ignored Neville’s self-satisfied smirk to at least retain a semblance of dignity. The herbologist was very good at wrestling misbehaving plants and it seemed to apply to ill wizards too.

The answer came to everyone when Harry woke up to his bedside covered in a riot of flowers, having slept a full eight hours without pain.

The only thing different was the belladonna that Neville had left on his table and it had gone through an accelerated growth overnight.

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed, examining the plant. Whatever feedback she was getting was making her so excited that her hair was forming a cloud around her.

“Plants absorb magic from wizards and emit clean magic. They’re part of the reason why the greenhouse effect hasn’t actually killed off everyone, you know?” Hermione said, expression rapt as she stared at the belladonna. “Magical plants work, but I think it would work better with non-magical plants as well.”

Plants were his answer.

Harry called his lawyers and Neville Longbottom immediately.

Harry bought an entire mountain and commissioned Neville to help him.

They took long walks around the mountain as Harry’s strength started to return and he got more and more optimistic. He got very good at making hammocks as he spontaneously slept and did not feel any pain.

It was amazing and Neville’s smiles were golden as he did his best to harvest plants so that Harry could have space to do his crazy magical plant growth.

Herbology was a very specific trade and soon, they had enough profit to sell the magical plants to the wizarding world and the mundane plants to the muggle world. Neville had teams and shifts to work the mountain overnight.

Harry’s magic expanded but at the same time, the plants absorbed enough of the replenished magic that Harry felt safe holding his own Holly wand. It didn’t felt like a single spell would tear it apart and Harry actually cried holding the familiar wood.

“Of course,” Hermione said after two weeks of careful observation. “This isn’t a permanent solution. You are not stuck in your mountain, Harry. I’m working with Saint Mungo’s for a temporary pill suppressant? It would allow you to leave your mountain for three days.”

“I don’t actually find it bad?” Harry volunteered. Daphne huffed as he moved his shoulders. With an apologetic shrug, he went still as she poked him with her wand again. “I mean, I might need to build a house here eventually. I can’t sleep on hammocks forever.”

“You’ve been sleeping outdoors in hammocks!!!” Hermione shrieked. “You’re going to catch a cold and die! I’ve not been working my arse off just for you to die of a cold!”

Harry cringed but listened to the lecture with a smile. Hermione hadn’t felt comfortable saying the d-word near him. That she could meant that she must have felt better.

Before both witches could leave, Harry caught her hand and said, “Hermione. Thank you.”

Thank you seemed too small of a word to encompass everything she’d done for him. But Hermione understood.

Hermione teared up. “Oh, Harry. You’re welcome.”

Ron visited whenever he could spare time from the jokeshop.

Harry, who knew how insanely busy the jokeshop could get, was just grateful that Ron could spare him two hours.

“It’s still crazy that you own a mountain now, mate,” Ron said. The stress lines in his face had faded away when he saw Harry stand up and walk to him without a cane. “I mean, wasn’t it crazy expensive?”

“Well,” Harry mused. Fame was no longer a sore point for Ron, being a sort of war hero himself. But money… ”Remember during the war when we found those horcruxes in the items from the founders? Well, turns out, most of them were goblin made and the goblins were grateful to have them back.”

Ron looked concerned. “Harry. Didn’t we destroy Gringotts and let loose their guardian dragon? And weren’t those items destroyed beyond repair?”

Harry smiled. “Well. It turns out; it’s not the item that’s important, but the metal. Goblin metal is incredibly valuable and I just gave them three pieces full of it.”

“Hence, the mountain,” Ron said, nodding.

“Hence, the mountain,” Harry agreed. “And that I and all my descendants would stay as far away as possible from Gringotts.”

They walked a couple more feet and Ron looked up at the crazy height that the trees were reaching.

“Where are you living, mate? Mum did ask me and I don’t see a house,” Ron asked. “Not outdoors? Camping is all well and good, but I’d have thought you’d be done with it after what happened.”

Harry remembered Hermione’s shriek of outrage and shuddered involuntarily. “Nah. I’m talking to the architects and the herbologists about making a tree house.”

Ron smiled. “That sounds crazy. On these trees?” he gestured to the absolutely humongous trees that had sprung up after Harry settled in the mountain. “Wouldn’t they keep growing?”

“Ah, no,” Harry rummaged through his trousers for a piece of parchment and a quill. He flattened them on a flat rock and sketched out the idea. “What I was thinking was this. I’d take five trees, hollow out the insides some, the central one would have a hidden staircase and then I’d just have a bunch of houses up there in the five different trees, but they’re actually different parts of the house.”

Ron laughed a little. “That’s crazy. It sounds like you. That house sounds big, Harry.”

Harry’s smile didn’t die, but only because he pasted it on through sheer force of will. “Well, you’re gonna visit, aren’t you? You and Hermione?”

“Of course I will!” Ron exclaimed. His watch chimed an alarm. “Ah, shit. I have to go back to London. Your place is great, and you look better, Harry. I’ll tell mum so she can stop worrying about you.”

They embraced, Ron left and Harry sat on his rock and cried.

Neville had become a sort of therapist to Harry, which probably wasn’t healthy because Neville wasn’t a licensed therapist and Harry’s issues needed an entire team of them to deal.

Still, the herbologist, who had accidentally found the solution to saving Harry’s life, didn’t complain and visited every time he could spare.

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Harry confessed to his friend. “And I’m just here on borrowed time.”

“Harry,” Neville said quietly. “Is the pain back?”

Harry munched at the muffins and swallowed, feeling like he was eating concrete. “No. But, I can feel it at the back of my mind. It’s there. It’s waiting for me to slip up. To make a mistake. And it’s going to be back, harder, stronger and more painful than ever. That…this relief is temporary.”

Neville looked pained. “You’re not getting better, are you?” he whispered.

Harry set down the muffin and clasped his hands, wishing, idly, for tea or something stronger. “It’s been months, Nev. How much magic did Voldemort have? How much magic do I have? It’s not good for one body to hold two people’s magic. It’s just…not possible.”

“You will stabilize,” Neville whispered. He got up, rounded the little table, and engulfed Harry in a hug. “I’ll not stop. Me and Hermione, we’re working on it.”

Harry clung to his dearest friend and swallowed his sobs. He wouldn’t cry. If he did, he would never stop.

Luna, who had fled the country as soon as the war was over, hadn’t seen Harry since that fateful day in Hogwarts. She returned after a furious letter exchange with her father and visited Harry immediately afterwards.

Her protuberant eyes grew even wider when she saw him.

“Oh, Harry,” Luna whispered. “You’re…”

She hugged him.

Harry felt the tears stuck in his throat struggle to get out. He swallowed them down and hugged her back.

“You look great, Luna,” he told her sincerely.

Her dirty blonde hair had darkened to burnished gold under intense sunlight in the African desert and her skin was smattered with freckles and cheeks were sunburned. She looked alive.

“You look tired,” Luna said. “But you are standing upright. Tell me everything.”

Harry absolutely didn’t want to, but Luna, like Neville, was one of those people used to wrangling difficult things. Magical plants for Neville and magical animals for Luna. This translated well for Harry.

“Ah, it’s been a difficult few months, Luna,” he told her with a smile. “It’s nice to be able to see you.”

Her pale fingers tightened around his. “And it is nice to see you. Would you like some tea? I found some really nice herbal blends in Africa.”

Helplessly, Harry allowed her to feed him truly terrible herbal tea, until he cracked and told her everything just to stop the tea.

“You have too much magic,” Luna mutters. “It’s not that simple. You have incompatible surplus of magic.”

That’s the first time Harry had ever heard that about his condition. It was also the first time he had felt that much hope.

“Do you want to talk to Hermione?” he asked her.

Luna made a face. “Ah. For you, I will.”

Harry remembered belatedly that Luna and Hermione didn’t get along very well regarding magical theory even if both of them would kill for the other.

“I cannot ask for better friends,” Harry said, kissing her forehead gently.

Luna beamed.

Even with four people working on it, Harry didn’t get better. But he didn’t get worst either.

“We’ve stabilized it,” Neville told Harry. “You’re alright, Harry. You’re alright.”

It didn’t seem to sink in, until a year later, when Harry was cooking for a small group of his friends, who had their own guestrooms in his treehouse and he didn’t feel that bone deep pain hiding. That he hadn’t been feeling that pain for a while.

Harry dropped the spatula and had to grab the kitchen counter in a hurry.

“Harry!” Ron cried out, getting out of his chair and running to him. “What hurts?” he asked.

Hermione and George rushed in a beat later, wands out and alert. Neville looked terrible. Ginny’s hands were over her mouth.

“I’m alright. I’m fine,” he gasped. “I just realized. I’m happy.”

They all crowded around him and gave hugs and pats. Harry choked on tears.

“It’s alright,” he hiccupped.

“You are,” Hermione soothed. “You are.”

“I’m alive,” he said, almost a question.

“You are,” Ron said, hands on Harry’s shoulders. “You’re alive.”

It took a while but finally, Harry believed that he was.

Please tell me if I’ve written anything offensive for people who have chronic pain and I will do better.

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lady-of-lies · 5 years

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My friend Bilbo

A/N: so, here we have this week’s prompt!! the same day as the prompt dropped no less. When reading bear in mind that this is my first ever Bilbo fic so it’s not as much in character as I’d hoped, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Oh! I almost forgot... This was a sort of request by the lovely @sdavid09 herself!

Prompt: "I can't prove anything, but I would have thought our friendship would have awarded me the courtesy of trust"

Word count: 1428 (WHAT!?)

Warnings: Bad descriptions of a mental breakdown but other than that, none

Bilbo Baggins x Platonic!reader

Air. You needed air. Breathing had become a luxury after you had finally been able to fall with a tree against your back as the only thing softening the blow. The rough wooden surface scratched on your back as you slowly slipped down to the cold hard ground. It felt like the trees came closing in on you and when your vision went blurry you gave up. This emotional outburst had been long overdue, and better now than later in the in the evening when you were sure to be surrounded by members of the company, some, if not all of them. Weak was certainly something you didn’t want to be seen as. You especially didn’t want your new found friend, master Bilbo Baggins, the company’s official burglar, to think you were something even remotely close to weak.

Day after day, night after night, you and Bilbo had stuck together, you had a lot in common after all. You were both fond of anything related to the art of the written word, comfort and heavenly baked goods. You also had a unified opinion regarding the transportation with which you were currently traveling, uncomfortable, foul-smelling and absolutely unnecessary. You had never really liked horses, you had never really not liked them either, you were just somewhere in between the two, but when it came down to long distance traveling you would have preferred something with a little bit more back support.

The memories of your and Bilbo’s earlier conversations flooded your mind in a steady stream, as soon as one memory ended another began, never giving your mind the peace and quiet it probably needed if you were to calm down anytime soon. At least the trees had seemingly come to a halt. Progress, you thought. Even though your breathing was ragged, laboured and uneven, your chest felt much lighter than it had before. Maybe the sensitive Ori was right. Sometimes you need to give your mind a rest from the constant pressure. Sometimes what you really needed were a good old fashioned cry. Let the mask slip off and just for a moment be free of all the mind’s burdens.

The Bilbo that you had met today had not been your Bilbo. He had been standoffish and rude, not at all the considerate and shy little hobbit you were used to. You knew there were people out there, people who wanted nothing more to have all the fortunes in the world, you had met some of those people before, but your Bilbo weren’t one of them. Yet, earlier today, that is exactly how he had come off. Like nothing mattered to him more than that stupid ring he had found in goblin town. When he came out of that tunnel he had changed, and not at all for the better.

You didn’t know for how long you had been sitting there, but the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon a while ago leaving you in the dark. It was probably for the better, you didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked like a mess right now and that wasn’t a sight you wished upon anyone. But maybe, just maybe, was it time to go back to camp. There was only one problem. Bilbo. You would rather live in an old spiders nest in the forests surrounding Mirkwood than seeing him again so soon. Even if he was your best friend you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet.

It was foolish. You couldn’t even remember what had started the fight resulting with your fast departure in the first place. All you remembered were that he had hurt you. Not physically, of course, he was still way too kind for that to happen, no, he had hurt your feelings. All he seemed to care about was that stupid ring. Something had to be wrong with it if he refused to let it out of his site for more than a second, he didn’t even let me look at it, not once.

Friendship, like any other kind of relationship it is built on trust and compromises, and normally that wouldn’t have been a problem. What does one do when the person you consider your closest friend and ally continuously sends out messages that he doesn’t trust you? That’s right, you don’t do anything. If the person can’t trust you there’s nothing you can do about it, it lies within them and changing that would be a feat bigger than all of Middle earth Combined.

On your way back to the company you allowed your thoughts to flow freely and your body to relax. You felt the wind dancing with your hair and the forest ground beneath your shoe clad feet twisting and turning with a little help from roots and stones that had been there for longer than any other being. If only trees could talk, you thought. Think of all the stories they could tell. But it was probably for the better that they weren’t able to, what if they unveiled the world’s biggest secrets? things meant to be long forgotten?

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt when you suddenly came eye to eye with a very anxious looking hobbit. His signature red velvet coat was coated with mud and god-knows-what after only a few months of traveling and his hair had grown. Actually, when you took a closer look, it was like he had tried to tear the hair off of his head. The light brown locks were a tangled mess. Like he hadn’t brushed his hair at all the past few days.

“There you are! I’ve worried about you”

How did he do that? switch between the old Bilbo, your Bilbo, and the new odd Bilbo? Standing before you now it was like nothing ever happened. No fight, and no ring. You stood in silence for a moment. What were you supposed to say? sorry, I just had a mental breakdown in the forest. No. Instead you opted for a more innocent approach. If he wanted to act like nothing was wrong then fine.

“No need to worry, my friend. I only needed a moment to myself”

It wasn’t a complete lie, you had needed a moment, he just didn’t need to know exactly why.

“Oh, that’s a relief, I thought it was something I’d said”

You know what? to hell with innocent approaches, if he didn’t see what he had become then he needed to know. You weren’t about to sit in a front row seat to watch your friend become something he with the outmost certainty was not.

“You seriously don’t know, do you”

His eyes widened at my sudden outburst. Poor Bilbo, he didn’t have a single clue, but I needed to speak my mind or I would be sure to lose my mind just like Thorin’s grandfather. The silence that followed my statement were deafening, the poor hobbit had started to twitch his ears too, a habit you had noticed only happens when he was unsure, scared or angry. Which of the three he was feeling now was plain as day, those big and glossy doe eyes spoke volumes. But one thing didn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand had instinctively reached into his right coat pocket.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to snap at you… It’s just… Well, I can't prove anything, but I would have thought our friendship would have awarded me the courtesy of your trust”

The conversation that came with that sentence were long, but no less needed. He had actually not had a single clue about his latest actions, or that he had hurt You, which he by the way apologized profusely for, and he would probably continue to do just that for as long as you knew each other. It was a smaller miracle that no one had come and interrupted you two in the middle of your talk, a welcome one but a miracle no less. You just hoped that it would stay that way. Not that you were ashamed of being found in a somewhat compromising position with the Hobbit, no, the others knew you were just friends. You just wished for this moment to last forever. You and Bilbo sitting together knee deep in the biggest and most comfortable hug you had ever received, as the sun started to climb its way onto the sky. Maybe he hadn’t changed after all.

Permanent tag list:

@theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @indelwen-of-mirkwood @gaia-writes-stuff @sdavid09 @peter-pan-on-neverland @ek823 @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @soradragon @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy

#imagine hobbit #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #bilbo imagine #bilbo x reader #imagine bilbo #imagine lord of the rings #lord of the rings #LOTR #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo x y/n #tale tellers 52 week writing challenge #lady-of-lies

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thepatchworkcrow · 5 years

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Friday’s @2019grimoirecchallenge prompt deals with connecting with Otherworldly energies and working with them in spiritual practice. By now, I’ve made it sort of clear which spirits and the like I work closely with, so this post is dedicated to the Wylde Hunt and my experiences working with them.

So, briefly: The Wylde Hunt is a phenomena that occurs across northern and western Europe, and in some parts of North America. It’s characterized by spectral figures, horses, or hounds which ride through the night and generally create some chaos and terror. What it is they’re hunting or changing depends upon the myth you’re reading- in fact a lot of the elements of the hunt vary depends upon the version of the story you’re dealing with. It can include fae, fallen heroes, gods, spirits of the dead, etc. etc. I go a bit more into detail on this in this post here.

My particular Wylde Hunt seems mostly to be human spirits and fae. Goblins are sometimes included in that, and they’re all led by a horned deity that up until very recently I was referring to as Herne, but who has come to be known by a different name, which is mine alone to know.

My work with them started back in October of 2011. I was working on homework the one night and got this sudden and urgent nudging to go outside. I ignored it for probably a good twenty minutes, like “No. I need to finish my homework...” But it persisted, so I grab some tarot cards and a pendulum and head outside. And standing at the firepit in our yard is this beautiful white tail doe. And she stares at me, and we kinda stand there for a bit... and then I gently creep closer... and she bounds off away to stand over on this hill near the tree I usually leave offerings at. So we stare at each other again... and then I gently creep closer once more, until off she bounds into the northwest and disappears into the trees.

Now, this hill was where I was intending to go in the first place; I was really fixated on dragons and leylines and thought there was going to be a connection there or something, but now I was fixated on this deer and the forest- like I could feel her still watching me from the tree line. And the name Wild Hunt kinda... came to me. I’m sure I’d read it in passing a few times; I’d recently started my journey with Celtic paganism, so it was likely it’d come up. But I didn’t have any real prior knowledge or interest in it- until this point. So, I break out the cards and the pendulum, and that becomes the answer I get for the question: “Who’s trying to contact me? / Who has a message for me?”

So I start to do research, and most sources recommend not contacting the Hunt at all, because, well, they’re sort of notorious for being dangerous. But I decide that I’m going to reach out and figure out what they want: so I go back to the hill a couple days later and I say “If you wish for me to work with you, if this is a partnership you’re seeking, let me see crows or ravens within a week’s time.” Crows and ravens are my sort of sign that something is afoot magically speaking, and they’re relatively common in our area. So, when suddenly there’s no sign of them for 6 days... I’m getting worried.

Halfway through the 7th day: I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up from retaking the ACT, and there’s suddenly a whole murder of crows behind me making a whole bunch of noise. And I’m like “Woah. Okay. I hear you.” And I look back towards the parking lot, and beyond it, there’s a hawk or falcon or something that comes up from the forest there, does maybe three circles, and then dips back down into the trees.

It took some time for me to really figure out how they were going to become a part of my practice. Their leader was my patron deity, so that wasn’t so hard to figure, but The Hunt itself is another thing altogether. Like anyone with any real knowledge of fae, I’m reasonably skeptical when it comes to just swearing allegiance to things, making deals, etc. They seemed to enter my life at the most inconvenient times: right when things were tumultuous and changing dramatically. At some point I realized that was probably the point.

In the video post linked above, I discuss my beliefs as to what they are and what purpose they sort of serve in the grander scheme of things: essentially they are psychopomps and agents of necessary destruction and change. They shake things up and carry you from one state of being to the next. When I realized this, they quit being quite as scary.

It was October of 2014, I believe, that I really properly dedicated myself to The Hunt in a formal sense. I had made a poppet to represent myself and taken it under the Hunter’s Moon out into the grove where we did much of our spellwork and gathering. I left it there in the crook of an oak at the center of the grove, I made offerings of alcohol and incense to them, and I swore myself to their service, which included:

Maintaining my altar and sacred space as a place for them to rest and visit. Essentially, I entered into a mutual bond of hospitality: when I did journeying work, I often visited their camp. They also were welcome at my hearth.

Creating poetry and artwork which focused on their myths and legends as well as my own new experiences with them. I took up the mantle of their bard, and you’ll notice I still write quite a bit of poetry inspired by them.

Working with them through periods of change. When I need help to clear the way; when I find myself getting stuck in a rut. I call on them. It’s amazing how much more controlled change can be when you willingly yield to it rather than fighting it. I also became interested in taking a similar role myself: in helping others through periods of transitions. I intend to undertake celebrant training with the OBOD following the completion of the Bardic Grade to work rituals for funerals, weddings, etc. I want to be help in those periods of transition for other people.

Developing skills related to hunting, outdoorsmanship, etc. I’ve casually taken up archery as a skill I want to learn. I’ve tried to educate myself whenever possible about things in my local environments: trees, wildlife, stars and the cycles of the seasons. The more I understand, the closer I feel to them. This has also included trying to be more conscious about what things I leave as offerings, recycling, using less energy, etc. to help mitigate at least a little harm done to the environment, and to vote in favor of policies that will benefit and help the natural world. That last part feels more important than ever these days.

Riding with the Hunt. I’ve mentioned already that I do journeying and visualization work. Some of it includes riding with the Hunt. This bullet point also includes my beliefs about my afterlife- that I will join them following the end of my life, and ride with them forever more.

These are the terms of my working with them, and are by no means the terms everyone should or would want to seek out.

I contact them in a number of ways but some off the top of my head are:

Taking hikes in the forest.

Leaving offerings of whiskey, dried meats, or bread.

Drumming.

Reading my poetry aloud somewhere like my backyard or the forest.

Calling to them in ritual work.

Visiting their camp in my journeying work.

Lighting a candle for them on my altar.

My advice when approaching any entities be they gods, fae, angels, whatever is this: DO YOUR RESEARCH. Know what exactly it is you’re working with, how people have historically interacted with these beings, what sort of tales exist about them, what offerings are common, etc. BE RESPECTFUL! Just like you’d probably be pretty polite and considerate when meeting a new friend or potential employer, you want to be polite and respectful of the powers that be. BE YOURSELF. Don’t go posturing or doing anything unnatural though. They have a sense of humor, and there’s a difference between being polite and serious about what you’re doing and taking yourself too seriously.

Best of luck, and forest blessings, Rachel

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curriebelle · 6 years

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Where Law and Chaos Came From: a D&D History Lesson

I’ve seen a few interesting posts about Dungeons and Dragons alignments that all share two interesting commonalities:

1) They think the two-axis system of Law vs Chaos and Good vs Evil is too restrictive for people who like to roleplay. 2) They try to redeem the two-axis system by redefining Law and Chaos in ways that make sense to them personally.

Good and Evil aren’t usually a topic of debate on these posts - it’s easy enough to play a character as generally doing the right thing or as being a total bastard. Discussion on acts of more debatable morality (e.g. torturing a villain for vital information, killing an innocent person by accident, sacrificing one for the good of all) tends to veer towards whether the action itself qualifies as good or evil, and not whether good and evil themselves need to be redefined. Conversely, I’ve seen Law and Chaos rewritten as Community vs Individuality, Tradition vs Cultural Mutability, Authority vs Anarchy - all interesting ideas that tend to reflect more on the person writing them than the actual purpose of the Law vs Chaos axis.

I’m not saying these people are wrong, but that these players (as well as the fine folks who wrote the 5e Handbooks) are placing too much significance on the purpose or intention of Law vs Chaos. The historical secret is that Law vs Chaos alignment never had any deep meaning behind it - or, at least, it never had any meaning deeper than the Pittsburgh Penguins versus the Vancouver Canucks.

I’ll explain how, but it requires a bit of a history lesson. The idea of Lawful and Chaotic alignments - as well as a number of other cornerstones of Dungeons and Dragons - came from a different game: a miniature wargame called Chainmail. It’s time for a deep dive.

In 1970, before he helped create Dungeons and Dragons, Gary Gygax developed a ruleset for modeling Medieval-Era battles using miniatures. Miniatures were organized into opposing armies, and the modeled battles were long, drawn-out math sessions, preoccupied with calculating distances, damages, casualties and morale. If you’ve ever played or seen Warhammer 40k, it’s a lot like that, except with English Longbowmen instead of Space Marines.

The purpose of Chainmail was to recreate historical battles, and so the gameplay mechanics were painfully precise, with rules for weather, terrain, and siege weapons. Only at the tail end of the Chainmail rulebook, in a tiny ten-page appendix, did Gygax include the rules that would become the basis for all of Dungeons and Dragons. This was the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement.

Even in the Fantasy Supplement, the purpose was still to recreate battles. The second edition of Chainmail - the oldest version I could find, from 1971 - instructs players on how to “refight the epic struggles related by J.R.R. Tolkein...and other fantasy writers”, only suggesting that the player could “create [their] own world” as an afterthought. Chainmail’s fantasy supplement was made so LOTR nerds could re-create the battles of Helm’s Deep or Pelennor Fields, down to the walking trees and boulder-throwing trolls.

Still, a couple of fun details are kicking around in those ten pages. Even back then, fireball and lightning bolt spells were the main tools in the wizards’ arsenals. Dragons and other powerful fantasy creatures could only be hit with magic weapons - an immunity that lingers on some powerful D&D monsters to this day. Even the colour varieties of dragons were introduced here, and they’ve remained largely unchanged for nearly half a century now:

“White Dragons live in cold climates and breathe frost. Black Dragons are tropical and spit caustic acid. The Blue variety discharges a bolt of electricity. Green Dragons waft poisonous vapours--chlorine--at their opponents”

Classic! (I did omit the mottled purple dragon with the poisonous stinger, but those stuck around too - they’re just called wyverns now).

At the very end of the fantasy supplement, you can find the following list:

I’m not sure why Gygax thought it was “impossible to draw a distinct line between “good” and “evil” here - honestly, this looks like a pretty straightforward good-neutral-evil list to me, but there you are. So Goblins, Orcs, Balrogs and Dragons are CHAOS, and Hobbits (who became Halflings later once copyright started getting huffy), Heroes, Ents and Magic Weapons (?) are LAW. Wizards can be either LAW or CHAOS; Elves are neutral (but kinda lawful sometimes); and apparently there are Super Heroes in the Lawful camp (Gygax describes them earlier as “like Conan”.)

The purpose of dividing these units into Law or Chaos is not to dictate how they are played, but what team they will play for in the conflict. That’s why I made my hockey analogy earlier: all Law and Chaos defined back then was what team you played for. So, by these rules, if you were building a Lawful Army and your buddy built a Chaos Army, you would both be able to add wizards to your team, but your buddy would have exclusive rights to dragons. You’d be able to add magic weapons, but your buddy couldn’t. Moreover, if you decided to hold a fight in a forest full of pixies and werewolves, you would actually roll off to determine which side those Neutral creatures would join.

If Law and Chaos did have any deeper meaning in this context, it sometimes dictated how the units behaved. Units of orcs would attack other units of orcs if they failed an obedience check; dragons, being “evil and egotistical”, always had to attack the biggest, most badass targets first. With rules like that, commanding those armies would be more ‘chaotic’, while the lawful side could generally be trusted to obey the commands of the player.

So at worst, the Chainmail law vs chaos axis is a purely logistical division that dictates which units get to join which teams; at its most #deep, it characterizes the combat behaviour of some military units. I think this is probably also the source of D&D racism, e.g. “all orcs are chaotic evil”. That’s a rule that makes much more sense when you’re trying to divvy up the teams in an extremely complex wargame, because you’re looking at orcs en masse, and you’re not too interested in the personalities of individual units.

So, the alignment system does make some sense in Chainmail, where it originated. Here’s where I show you exactly how much influence Chainmail had on D&D and how it struggled to transfer this concept of alignment in a meaningful way.

The “first edition” of D&D - at least the one most of us would recognize as D&D - is officially called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. That’s the 1977 version in which players create an adventuring party. (It’s called “Advanced” because a “Basic” edition was also released, strictly for levels 1-3). There was actually one other, earlier edition of D&D, which was released in 1974. It was intended to be another Chainmail expansion, so much so that you needed the Chainmail rulebook to play it!

I’m going to ignore that edition, though, since 1) it’s pretty hard to find the rulebook, 2) AD&D was where the game found its own identity anyway and 3) The AD&D handbook is hilariously bizarre, especially when dealing with player morality.

You might know of some of the weirdness of AD&D alignments already. For example, certain classes had to be certain alignments. Paladins were always lawful good; druids were always true neutral. Assassins were automatically evil, and thieves could not be good. Weirdly enough, all monks were lawful - I guess because they adhered to the traditions of their vaguely-east-asian dojos. (By the way, this means that everybody’s favourite Feather Leather Fashionista, Vax’ildan the dual-classed Rogue/Paladin, is a mechanical impossibility in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.)

It’s easy to see how this move was just an ungainly step forward from Chainmail. Again, this is Gygax telling you what teams your characters must play for - what armies they would join if this were a Chainmail game - without recognizing that the need for an alignment system has basically vanished. We're not picking our fantasy kickball teams anymore; everyone is on the same team, adventuring together, and all an alignment system becomes in that context is a hindrance.

And oh was alignment ever a hindrance in AD&D. Each alignment was a moral code of sorts, but it was also a language. Chaotic Neutral characters shared a language that only Chaotic Neutral characters could understand. Assassins could learn to speak other alignment-languages as they leveled up (or Druidic, if they wanted to be nerds I guess), but if you changed alignment in any way you would lose access to your previous alignment language. This makes absolutely zero sense. Worse still, if you committed an act that didn’t fit with your alignment, it would screw you over mechanically. If a paladin ever willingly committed an evil act they straight-up lost their healing powers and become regular fighters FOREVER. Even if they did something a little bit chaotic, they lost their powers until they could pray the cray away with the help of a lawful good cleric. The book even vaguely suggests that alignment shifting in other classes be met with “great penance”. You’re not allowed to be an assassin again until you do enough poison murders! We’re taking your poison away!

The book describes each individual alignment, but not with any subtlety. This is long before the game itself grasped that the most fun part of tabletop roleplay is the roleplaying, and alignment rules still seem to recall the behaviour of army units rather than the behaviour of individuals. Chaos - as is usually the case - is the alignment that suffers most. The Chaotic Good description gets a nice Robin Hood-y bent, the Chaotic Evil one is the “carnage is good” mantra you’d expect - but here’s Chaotic Neutral:

“Above respect for life and good, or disregard for life and the promotion of evil, the chaotic neutral places randomness and disorder. Good and evil are complimentary balance arms. Neither are preferred, nor must either prevail, for ultimate chaos would then suffer.”

Leaving aside the misuse of the word “complimentary” (you’re looking for complementary, Gygax) and the poorly-structured first sentence - yeah, that’s what the big secret of Chaos is, apparently. It’s not rebellion or individuality (which get championed in the Chaotic Good description), it’s pure, unadulterated, dice-rolling randomness. “Fuck it” made manifest. Don’t think about it too hard, because it doesn’t make any sense, and it will take you down a (fittingly) chaotic wormhole of self-contradiction.

Lawful Neutral and True Neutral are weird, too. Both are described as pursuing the absolute harmony of the word, but like...you know, in different ways. There’s also a bizarre association between goodness and beauty. “Life and beauty are of great importance”, says the Lawful Good blurb. Does this mean that Delilah Briarwood, Wildemount’s hottest necromancer, is Lawful Good after all? shucks.

It’s pretty clear that AD&D is the awkward gangly phase between wargaming and genuine tabletop roleplay, with lots of weird vestigial features and obnoxiously pedantic mechanics that would later be dropped. For some reason, despite the fact that it never made sense to begin with, alignment wasn’t one of those mechanics - or at least it tended to vanish as a mechanic and then come back again in later editions, slightly different but never fixed. This led to another awkward gangly phase at the turn of the millennium, when D&D rules were adapted into games like Baldur’s Gate or Planescape Torment. Alignment creates fallacies and failures everywhere in those games. If you play Evil in Baldur’s Gate, the game can become basically unwinnable, as NPCs begin to attack you on sight. The way to bond with the Chaotic Neutrals in Planescape Torment is to literally spout gibbering nonsense at a man on the street until he barks at you. Even on Critical Role, with its 5e gameplay and extremely talented dungeon master, alignment feels like an arbitrary interloper rather than an important part of the game. Percy stays Good even after torturing a teenager, but Vex goes Neutral for stealing a broom. Nobody in their right mind would believe Fjord is Lawful Good because of his deception and warlockery, but he technically hasn’t violated the LG handbook so far.

So because of these repeated failures to use alignment in a compelling way, I see a lot of people hunting for the right way to do alignments, the right way to understand chaos, law, neutrality and the like. They want alignments to fit. But they never did fit. The truth?

Two-axis alignment is stupid, and it always has been.

Honestly, I don’t see the benefit in remedying two-axis alignment as a system. I have my own re-interpretation of chaos that I like fairly well, and I’ve seen a few compelling ones, but I also think that alignment could use a complete makeover. There are some fun examples of morality systems that I’m sure DMs could experiment with, if they so wished.

You could steal from Ultima IV, for example. The Ultima series was a product of the early days of the computer/tabletop romance - and by early I mean 1980s early. Ultima IV does not use the alignment system: instead, it lets the player ‘train’ in eight virtues to achieve ultimate avatar awesomeness. The virtues are Honesty, Compassion, Valor, Justice, Honor, Sacrifice, Spirituality, and Humility, further divided into the camps of Truth, Love, and Courage. Maybe angels of each of those virtues have corresponding devils (Deception! Cruelty! Cowardice! Injustice! Dishonor! Greed! Blasphemy! Pride!). That could be one way to play with morality without worrying about chaos or law.

I’m also a fan of Pillars of Eternity’s spectra of dispositions, which fit loosely into pairs (not necessarily good or evil pairs, mind you). Benevolent or Cruel, Stoic or Passionate, Honest or Deceptive, Clever or Rational, Diplomatic or Aggressive. Heck, those remind me of the personality sliders in the Sims. What were those again, like - Grumpy/Nice, Playful/Serious, etc?

Those trying to give alignments the benefit of the doubt often suggest that alignments were created to help people roleplay. That’s not...entirely untrue, it’s just misleading. They were created to help people make gameplay decisions, but they were pulled from a different kind of game altogether. It’s like trying to play checkers with chess pieces, and it always has been. The D&D alignment system doesn’t work for D&D because it wasn’t designed for it - it was designed for wargaming. We probably should have just chucked the whole thing instead of enshrining it in nerd culture, but it’s too late for that. Still, our creative energy now would be better spent on a new morality system that actually gives us a thing or two to think about.

#dungeons and dragons #tabletop roleplaying #critical role #currie academia #cuz i learned most of this researching Stuff

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my-little-trash-blog · 6 years

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Janco/Manna Fluff Fic #001

This idea was bouncing around my head for a few days since I saw this great fan art from @spatziline so I’m glad I was able to put it into words

this is literally just some fluff of Janna helping Marco with some of his chores and them gossiping. the fic is set after the latest episodes, so all the drama from stump day and deep dive has come and gone (so skip this if you aren’t all caught up. it has spoilers).

idk if I’ll write more of this but it’s a great ship in a really fun setting so I would think I come back to it at some point. thanks for reading

#001: A Walk in the Park

Most squires got their hands dirty. Polishing armor, sharpening weapons, grooming warnicorns, and buying groceries was hard work. It was demanding, sometimes gross, and often thankless.

Marco Diaz wasn’t a typical squire. Because he was assigned to the royal princess, his chores were different: making nachos, scheduling parties, and keeping her secret closet organized. Sure, it was demanding. And sometimes it could be gross. But Marco never thought of it as thankless.

Today he was walking Glossaryck and the laser puppies. Figuring this out had taken some trial and error - walking them in the castle gardens was tricky because of all the distracting squirrelicorns. Herding eight laser puppies and a rabid, small blue mystic at the same time wasn’t easy but he couldn’t leave either of them unattended.

The castle guards had laughed him off when he’d asked for help, so Marco made some calls. Kelly was busy sparring with her wolf-tiger-beast friend Jorby, and Pony Head would have just caused more chaos, so he begrudgingly went with a third option: Janna Ordonia.

“I knew you missed me,” Janna snickered triumphantly as Marco sealed the portal behind them.

He rolled his eyes and pocketed the dimensional scissors. “I miss everybody,” Marco insisted, kneeling to gather Glossaryck’s harness, “my parents, Sensei, Alfonso and Ferguson,” his voice trailed off as he scanned the room for signs of the bearded imp.

“And Jackie?” Janna teased.

Marco hesitated before answering as his friend watched impassively. He stood and turned with Glossaryck wriggling in his arms and passed the leash to Janna.

“Yeah,” Marco said quietly, “I miss her too.” He crossed the room to take the puppies’ leashes from their hooks on the wall.

“You two still aren’t talking.” There wasn’t any edge to Janna’s voice, just a casual certainty.

Marco waved a hand at the high, arched castle ceiling. “It’s not easy to talk to anyone back home.” Janna’s mouth was set in a firm line. She wasn’t buying the excuse, so Marco’s shoulders slumped. “Have you been reading my texts again?”

“I don’t need to,” Janna replied as they collared the puppies together. “She’s my friend too. We talk.”

“Oh.” Marco paused, then flinched as Janna reached past him to open the door. She had Glossaryck’s leash in hand while Marco led the puppies into the hallway outside. They descended a spiral staircase and exited a postern gate. He didn’t speak again until they crossed the castle moat. Outside, the puppies were free to fire their laser beams into the open sky relatively harmlessly. “So... how is she?”

“Jackie’s fine, I guess. It’s hard to tell when she’s rattled,” Janna walked a little ahead as Glossaryck struck out on all fours, stretching in the morning sun. “She’s taken up surfing. And she’s listening to more Twenty-One Pylons now.”

“They’re her favorite,” Marco said mindlessly, stopping to let the puppies inspect a charred stump. “She got into Love Sentence for my sake more than anything, I think.”

Janna frowned, watching Glossaryck growl and gnaw at his own leg. “You should really try something new. Have I told you about Shallow Gravy?”

“Didn’t they do that Jackets song?”

“Yeah!” Janna grinned enthusiastically, “They’re so existential.”

“It would’ve been better if it was about hoodies. I think their sound was too indie for me.” Marco carefully stepped around a pile of bleached-white bones.

Janna sighed. “Didn’t Mewni used to be cool? Like with pickled giants’ toes and goblin heads and stuff?”

Marco idly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I guess so. But Star’s been putting a stop to that since she moved back here.” Janna groaned and muttered something incoherent.

They passed the royal corn fields and looked up to see how high the magic shield reached, but couldn’t find its ending. Marco was feeling anxious again so he asked how Alfonso and Ferguson were spending their summer.

“They tried to sign up for space camp but joined a LARPing crew by mistake,” Janna answered, lifting a foot away from Glossaryck as he chased her shoelaces, “I think that worked out better for them?”

“That sounds like them,” Marco laughed, “what about you?”

Janna paused and narrowed her eyes. “What about me?”

“What are you doing with your summer?”

Janna walked on without saying anything for a few minutes, then answered, “I’ve been spelunking. And urbexing.”

Marco blinked. “You what?”

“Urbexing,” Janna lifted her free hand and jabbed it into Marco’s shoulder twice for emphasis, “Urban exploring. Going into old factories and poking around.”

“Sajak, Trebek, no,” Marco chided two of the puppies that wandered too close to the Forest of Certain Doom. The royal guards patrolled the forest’s eaves more often now, and Star had earned a lot of goodwill with the local monsters, but he didn’t want to chase a puppy into those shadows. He turned back to Janna and asked, “Haven’t you been doing that anyway?”

“Well, yeah,” she admitted, “but you asked what I’ve been doing.”

“I just thought summer was a time to try new things,” Marco said defensively.

Janna swept her arms out wide, surveying the Mewni countryside. “This is new, right? Aren’t I in a new dimension? Doesn’t this count?”

“Globgor,” Glossaryck agreed.

Marco decided not to press the topic further. They trudged on, passing the new outer walls Queen Moon had ordered built. King River saluted them with a friendly wave from the battlements but was tied up in conversation with a giant eagle.

More quiet minutes passed until Janna broke the silence. “So what’s so great about Mewni?”

“It’s fun,” Marco answered immediately, “I see something new every day.” A flock of geese flew by honking, led by a winged treasure chest, “like that,” Marco finished confidently.

“Do you still get to fight monsters?”

“Sometimes. I helped Star stomp a giant lint beast my first day on the job. Those big rats are still a problem.”

“The ones from my seance?”

“Yeah, but they’re leaderless again. So it’s not that big of deal. I get to spar with Sir Lavabo whenever I pick up our laundry, so that’s fun.”

“I bet you’ll have all the knights of Mewni practicing karate in no time.”

Marco sighed, exasperated. “I wish. They call it my ‘swords-hands-dance’. Mackie Hand would be so disappointed in me.” He slapped his hand against his leg in frustration.

Janna laughed at that. A real earnest laugh, without teasing in it. But the familiar tone crept back into her voice. “We could ask him to make sure. Star’s boyfriend could get me the ritual, and...”

“Get out of town!” Marco said hurriedly. “No resurrections. There’s been enough dark magic here already. Star’s ancient evil great-great-great grandma is on tower arrest as we speak.

“And no, we aren’t visiting her,” Marco added hurriedly, cutting Janna off. Their brown eyes met and she smiled toothlessly.

“Eclipsa sounded cool from what I read in his book,” she stared down at Glossaryck, who was scratching behind his ear with a leg. Janna shook her head and frowned. “What a disgrace. You should ask her if he’s stuck like this forever.”

“I’ll set an appointment,” Marco grumbled.

“Hey, Marco, don’t let a spooky old witch get you down. So what else is new?”

She listened as they finished their walk, occasionally stopping him with a joke or question. Marco went on and on about his new life in Mewni: how he’d gained new appreciation for corn, how he’d felt disrespected by his fellow squires, how leaving Echo Creek had changed everything for him. He confided how it hurt that everyone forgot his birthday and how he was still confused at being able to use Star’s wand. Janna let him avoid getting into his confusions about Star herself.

Eventually they returned within sight of the castle walls. They made their way up the streets and came nearer to the moat and gate.

“Thanks for listening,” Marco repeated, “and agreeing to jump dimensions to help me with this.”

“No problem,” Janna answered. She and Glossaryck followed him up the steps and back into Marco’s room, where the small blue man collapsed on a pillow and immediately began snoring. “It’s harder to keep tabs on you from another dimension. Same time tomorrow?”

“What?”

“You walk them every day, right?”

Marco’s mind was blank. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I do. And that would be great. If it’s alright with you.”

“It’s great with me,” Janna answered easily, leaning in. “You can let go of my hand now.”

Marco jumped, stammering, and glanced down in panic. Sure enough, their fingers were laced tightly together. When had that happened? How long had they been like that? Who had seen them? Why did his hand fit so easily in hers?

“Relax, dude,” Janna chided, “Mewni doesn’t have tabloids, right?”

“Globgor,” yawned Glossaryck. Marco still couldn’t form a response.

Janna smiled again and cut a rift in space and time with Marco’s scissors. She tossed the scissors to him and stepped partway into the portal. “Don’t keep a girl waiting.”

#janco #manna #marco x janna #marco diaz #janna ordonia #star vs the forces of evil #star vs las fuerzas del mal #svtfoe #shipfic #my writing #laser puppies #glossaryck

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willofhounds · 5 years

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Tears of ages ch 16

A/N thanks for your reviews and support.

Wolf 11: thanks for your review my friend. Thank you.

APridefulSin: thanks for your review my friend. No rest for the weary. There are more to come as well.

WhiteElfElder: thanks for your review my friend. Yeah this is the simple stuff. We havent even begun to get complicated.

DarkRavie: thanks for your review my friend.

So this is a warning for you now. The ending is official and it will not be a happy one. If you are looking for a happy ending I would probably suggest any other author. You have been warned.

Marvolo's POV

With how long his son had been gone and with no news from Malcolm, Marvolo decided to take matters into his own hands. The first step had been going to Gringotts. His followers mentioned a drastic decline in goblins at the bank.

When Lillian died he never had her will read. There wasn't a need for it. When he went to the bank he found out what a mistake that was. His wife had left him letters about wolves. She had left him one of the rarest books in the world.

The book of the moon. At one time it was wildly popular. People of all cultures read it. Right up until the race for paradise. The worst of it didn't hit until the 40's and 50's.

Wolves by that point had already been declared extinct but a disease ravaged both muggles and wizards. It was aptly named Paradise sickness. People that contracted the disease lost their minds.

They thought everything and everyone were wolves. Eventually they would fall into a coma. It was said that the coma showed what their paradise was. No one knew for sure for no one who contacted the disease came out of that stage.

Marvolo knew most of this because he had seen it. Growing up he had seen people fall to the illness. When Lillian came into his life that was the happiest he felt.

When she died killed by the Light Wizards that opposed him, he closed himself off. Both to his sons and to his followers. If he had not then there was a chance he might have seen the signs. His youngest son and heir was a wolf, just like his mother.

The letters went further into explaining what happened. Lillian had known she was going to die. That the time of her clan of wolves was coming to an end.

The Okami clan was one of the largest wolf packs in the world. They held a seat on the high council. It was the council and the Light Wizards working in collaboration that killed her clan.

Wolves were promised freedom. The wizards the promise that the way to Paradise would never be opened.

By the time the attack happened only a small portion of the clan remained. The rest had scattered to the wind on her order. They would wait for the call of the Okami heir.

An heir's call was a rare thing and it would rally the remaining clan members together. Lillian summarized that it would be Harrison who opened the gates to Paradise.

What she wrote next chilled him to the bonev She stated that their world was dying. Magical creatures had seen the signs for centuries. Their preparations were finally coming to a head.

Goblins refused to explain what would happen. They were shutting themselves off in preparation. Paradise was the only hope for many.

As he reached the end he almost missed a page. It was stuck to the one before it. When he peeled them apart he could only stare.

A list of names with birth and death dates adorned the page. Some dated all the way back to the early 17th century. It was a list of all the previous clan elders. All of whom had died at or on the same day as Lillian. Except one.

There was a single clan elder that despite the odds had survived. A name that had struck fear into the hearts of all wizards for almost two decades.

That made his decision for him. Journey or not he had to find his son.

Harrison's POV

The raven led them across snowy plains. For the wolves it was slow going as they had to slow their pace for the human. The trails they were taking them lead them far from human habitation and where the car could go.

Quent was unused to traveling in the conditions but he did his best to keep pace with the wolves. Malcom scouted ahead while Harrison enjoyed the snow.

While enjoying the snow he was constantly aware of everything around him. Last time there had been a bear attack. He didn't want to be caught unaware by another challenge.

It was two weeks of travelling with Quent that the strangest thing happened. His raven disappeared. Harrison as per the normal at night had been chasing it. Chasing it to some unknown range of mountains.

Flashes of images came with the chase. A bear, a wolf, a mountain lion, a fox, and a raven. A calm voice soothed his nerves saying things that he would not remember in the morning.

As they broke camp Harrison frowned noticing that his raven was gone. There wasn't any indication of where it had gone.

Malcolm immediately asked noting the frown, "What's wrong?"

"The raven it's gone," replied Harrison.

It didn't even take a second for both men to look up. Spirit guides did not suddenly disappear. The raven had not left him once since the journey began. Even when he had faced off with the bear it had been there.

Malcolm frowned and said hollowly, "It cant be. It's too early in your journey."

Harrison almost asked too early for what. Then he remembered the stories.

Heir journey's were different from the others. At some point during the journey a choice had to be made. That choice would decide the fate of the wolf in question.

Would they become head of the clan? Or would they be forever stuck as the heir?

That part of the journey was always strifed with inner turmoil. The choice would be one that decided not only his fate but the fate of all of his clan.

Malcolm said, "Then we will stay here. This part is for you and you alone. My only advice is follow your heart."

Quent looked like he wanted to argue but a cold look from Malcolm stopped him. It seemed he was in fact alone for this part. Despite being alone for most of his life this scared him.

#harry is voldemort's son #wolf harry potter #toboe #hige #tsume #bad dumbledore #good gellert #wolf's rain #gray wolf #wolf Grindelwald

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