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alkali1 · 5 months

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Fantasy Maternity Ward

It had been a relatively quiet day at the maternity ward, but all of Dr. Ixia's hope of going home on time vanished when she heard the anguished screams of the petite elven woman being carried into the delivery room by her hulking orc husband. Half-orc deliveries were almost always a drawn-out, tortuous affair, and with the three-year length of elven pregnancies, the mother would surely need a lot of time and assistance to squeeze out the 60-70 pound toddler currently cramming its way through her overdilated cervix.

The nurse briefed the goblin OBGYN on the patient's status: "She's carrying a singleton, half-orc 163 weeks pregnant, and nearly fully dilated." The doctor's eyes widened at hearing how long the pregnancy had been. Elves usually couldn't handle bearing interspecies babies the full three years, but this woman had gone severely overdue. She shuddered thinking about the sheer size of the baby, and whether her body could even stretch enough to accommodate it.

The patient was helped into the birthing bed, her feet strapped up into the stirrups. Her breasts, sagging low with milk, were pushed up into her face by the enormity of her womb, which dominated the rest of her body. From Ixia's low angle it looked like it could be the size of the rest of her combined. The elf's straining, barrel-sized belly shifted back and forth as the strong, overdeveloped child confined within writhed, desperate to be born.

The doctor reached into the patient's swollen pussy to examine her cervix. She found her to be fully dilated, with the baby's watermelon-sized and colored head battering against the elf's hopelessly tiny pelvic inlet with each desperate push.

"Huff...huff...stuUUUUUUUUUCK!" was all the poor elf could say as another contraction made her strain desperately to squeeze the colossal head through her unyielding hips. "We're going to give you a little something to help you stretch", said Dr. Ixia, loading up a syringe with a clear potion.

Ixia made three careful injections into the ligaments holding her pelvis together, one in the front and one on either side of her delicate tailbone. She wrenched the strirrups back, bringing the elven woman's feet almost parallel to her head. The patient let out a desperate scream as she reacted to the burning sensation of her pelvic ligaments stretching like taffy.

With her hips finally widened enough for her pushes to slowly start squeezing the overdue toddler downwards, the patient writhed underneath the suffocating boulder of her belly, clinging desperately to her orc husband's burly arm. Each push brought a few agonizingly slow millimeters of progress, and with it an unimaginable searing pain that made her scream and wail that her hips would split. Though this was one of the most disproportionate births she'd attended, it was nothing the veteran doctor hadn't seen before. Ixia squirted some lubricating oil into the now bulging cunt of her patient, working it in around the brow of the child to hopefully ease its passage somewhat.

After a few hours the head was just barely starting to approach the elf's bulging lips. With a sliver of green skin visible, each push made her swollen flower distend just a bit more, until it formed a sickening bulge several inches wide. Her perineum was pulled so tight that it dragged her anus open with into a teardrop shape.

Ixia sighed, realizing that the elf's hole was just too small and tight to stretch around the colossal toddler head. She gently ran her fingers around the taut rim, testing its pliability and trying to stretch it around a little more of the huge skull. There was just no way it was going to fit without splitting the poor elf wide open.

"Ready the traction forceps," Ixia said to her assistant. As the device was being assembled, she rubbed a sticky potion into the elf's vaginal lips and perineum. "This will help you stretch wide enough to deliver." she explained.

With the ointment taking effect Ixia was just barely able to wiggle the curved metal faces of the forceps into the patient's birth canal and secure them into place around either side of the head. She locked them together and hooked the apparatus up to a chain, then turned a crank to create constant pressure against her patient's stubborn cunt.

"IT'S RIPPING MEeeeeeee!" screams the poor elf, struggling to stay calm with the burning sensation in her overstretched cunt suddenly multiplying tenfold. "Calm down, you're not tearing. Just breathe and push when you feel a contraction." Privately, Ixia had her doubts. The doctor prided herself on rarely having to cut her patients, but the sheer size of the grossly overdeveloped half-breed could easily prove too large for the extra capacity provided by the stretching ointment.

Over the next three hours the elf's grotesquely stretched pussy gradually stretched around the baby's boulder-like, fused skull. The doctor periodically ratcheted up the tension, and reapplied more ointment to the patient's vulva and perineum. But just before it reached its widest point, it stopped progressing.

The red-faced elf gasped as Ixia explained that the shoulders had become stuck on her tailbone. "Brace yourself, this will be quite uncomfortable." said the doctor as she pulled on an elbow-length surgical glove.

Ixia carefully squeezed her hand into the gaping maw of the elf's rectum. She faced severe resistance from the stretching and squeezing being exerted on the hole by the massive obstruction lodged in the birth canal. Every square inch of space in the moaning patient's pelvic cavity seemed to be taken up by the baby, but finally the doctor was able to get some leverage on the shoulders.

With the next push she attempted to rotate the anterior shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. It was completely wedged against the unusually prominent bone. With a sickening pop, the fragile spur gave way. Ixia quickly withdrew her arm from the patient and provided counterpressure as the unstuck baby surged forward.

"Try to pant through the urge to push. If it comes too quickly you're going to tear yourself badly." But the agonized elven woman was far too deep into the throes of labor to resist her body's desperate signals. With the next contraction the head finally popped free from her gaping cunt with a gush of fluid. Ixia disengaged the forceps and gently guided the shoulders and torso out. With one more quick push the gigantic toddler fully emerged from the elf's blown-out birthing hole.

Ixia needed help from her assistant to lift the child onto the mother's chest. As the new parents cooed over their firstborn and the nurses cleaned him up and did their examinations, she supervised the delivery of the placenta and stitched up the shockingly minor tears in the elf's loose, swollen-purple hole.

"76 pounds 15 ounces!" announced one of the nurses after weighing the chubby newborn boy. "One of the largest I've ever delivered" thought Ixia to herself. With the ordeal largely over, the doctor advised the patient to stay on bedrest for at least six weeks while her tailbone healed and alchemically stretched body parts slowly returned to normal. Finally, hours after she expected, she could go home.

#birth #size difference #pregnancy fantasy #pregnant fantasy #overdue pregnancy #giving birth #birth fic

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spacebarbarianweird · 8 days

Note

I love the troupe of finding Astarions parents. Can I ask for a request of Tiriel and Alethaine running into an elven woman at a market who looks suspiciously similar to Astarion please? If not that’s totally cool!

Past Grief

Synopsis: There were years when Sylenn Ancunin was happy, but ever since her only son died her life as been all mysery and sorrows. And now she meets a young elf who reminds her of what she lost.

Tags: hurt\comfort, dadstarion, astarion's mother

The fic is set a few months prior The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast

Alethaine's age - 24-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading! Thank you for being the fastest reader in the wild west!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

There were years when Sylenn Ancunin was a warrior.

She was a fighter, one of the many protectors of Evereska.

There were years when she was a scholar, diving deep into the secrets of elven history.

There were years when she was a mother and a wife – but those decades disappeared into oblivion, a true curse of elven existence.

It’s all gone.

Her first child – a girl – died when orcs ambushed one of the elven towns. Sylenn was still young and the very idea she could overlive her own children sounded unreal. They were elves, not humans! Their children didn’t die unless mortal danger came for them.

But orcs smashed Sylenn Ancunin’s baby daughter against the wall and the elf would forever remember how she held a lifeless body whose every bone had been broken into tiny pieces.

She got pregnant again – sixty years later. Her husband and Thiramin assured Sylenn everything would be fine. Everything… But three human mages killed him, and her sorrow caused Sylenn to miscarriage. Another rare thing for Tel'Quessir. Still weak and bleeding, she put her heavy armor on and avenged them both, slaughtering the cursed wizards like livestock.

Then, she buried her Thiramin and returned to Evereska, to her home, where at last she was among her own kind.

A century passed, slow and peaceful. She married again – never did she love Caeldrim as much as she did her Thiramin. But he was a good friend and partner, and Sylenn was happy by his side.

The only thing she truly wanted back then was to conceive a child. She wanted to become a mother, she wanted this gift she had been deprived of twice.

Sylenn prayed to all of the elven gods. Corellon, Hanali, Sehanine, Naralis…Each of them.

Until one day, instead of a reverie, she had a dream. A silhouette weaved of light placed a small star in her hands.

The gods gave her a child.

… Now, centuries later, Sylenn fears and waits for those memories when she reveries. The moment the healer placed a newborn boy in her hands.

Astarion. Her little star.

He was born with curled silver hair and when he was a child he resembled a dandelion. Sylenn remembers Astarion was a crybaby, always demanding her attention. He wanted his mother to hold him, to carry him around their house. And, should he have a nightmare or some ghostly shadows of his past lives haunted him, he came straight to her, eyes puffy, lips quivering. Sylenn would lull him back to sleep but rarely carried him back to bed.

The boy had the temper of a human, and Caeldrim joked that some of their ancestors must have bedded a N Tel'Quessir. Sylenn’s son was smart and brave, and if she couldn’t find him anywhere, it meant he was in a library – learning new things, new languages, new facts.

Or he could have been in the hills, if the sun shone brightly. Caeldrim’s mother called her grandson Sunflower – for he sometimes would spend hours just standing in the sun enjoying its warmth.

Sylenn taught Astarion to fight. A longsword. Daggers. All possible weapons. She often took him outside Evereska to show him the world behind the elven realm.

It fascinated him.

Sylenn knew Astarion would leave to see the world soon enough. When she would see him again, he would be an adult – and she wished his childhood would last just a little longer.

It didn’t.

Her baby boy grew up. A beautiful elf whose eyes were green like the hills of Evereska and whose hair was the color of moonlight.

There is another memory Sylenn is afraid to re-live.

The last time she saw Astarion.

He was twenty-four. Fully-grown. Handsome and beautiful, taller than other elves, with hands almost as strong as a human’s.

Astarion was standing in front of her in his traveling armor and Sylenn couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“I will be fine, o’si,” he told her. “Besides, you taught me so well, I could put up with a devil in a fight!”

“Don’t be stupid, Astarion” she tiptoed and kissed his forehead. “Pity, I didn’t finish the circlet I wanted to give you.” She pointed at the unfinished twisted rope-like headwear adorned with a little star.

“You can finish it by the time I get my adult name.” Astarion kissed her cheek.

And he left. Sometimes in her reverie, Sylenn wants to cry and beg her only son to stay. Besides, not all adult elves leave their homes! Some stay where they were born.

Her Astarion disappeared. That wretched city he went to study murdered him and no one could even tell her how it happened.

After eighty years of receiving no message from him, Sylenn left Evereska one last time and traveled to the West.

To find her son’s grave.

They even buried him like a human – and Sylenn wanted to dig the grave with her bare hands. Her son didn’t deserve to rot in the ground but all strength left Sylenn and she spent a day curling in the graveyard until a guardian came to check on her and took her to the inn.

With the years, Sylenn accepted what happened. Besides, there are fates much worse than death.

Her son could have been cursed. Or turned into an undead. At least she knows he sleeps peacefully in his grave and maybe if the gods allow she will meet him in their afterlife.

Sylenn Ancunin never returned to Evereska. She came to Neverwinter, found her youth friend, a gnome paladin, and asked him to give her a place in his adventuring guild.

At least dying in battle is better than rotting in her own misery.

A reeking scent of death lingers over the cave and Sylenn curses. This part of the dungeon disgusts her, and if it wasn’t for her mission she would have already returned to the surface.

“Well, they told us ‘dead or alive’,” the Dragonborn by her side chuckles and points at a dead human prince whose body is torn in two.

“We need to find the map,” Sylenn sits on a boulder. “I am too old to wear armor.”

“You are not old,” the Dragonborn laughs. “You are what, only a millenia?”

Sylenn cringes. Well, is there any difference between being five hundred years old and a millenia?

“Almost,” Sylenn says. The warrior looks at her with awe – and she knows how she looks in his eyes.

A forever young woman with long silver hair and a pair of emerald green eyes. Delicate and thin but in the full set of heavy armor. Other races in Faerun don’t care how old elves are.

“Let’s set up a camp somewhere it doesn’t stink. And where the fuck is Irbis?”

Sylenn decides she isn’t going to take off her armor. Who knows what killed the prince? And they need the map that leads to the secret dungeons of the Dark Elves. The lord of Gauntlgrym won’t be happy if the party comes back empty-handed – and with his dead son’s body.

“He must have found a whore to spend the night with and forgot about us,” Selynn says. She has never liked Irbis – the human man cares only about ale and gold and would sell all of his companions for a good pact with a devil.

“You have a dirty mouth for an elf,” the Dragonborn notices.

“I’ve been through such shit within my lifetime I have every right to swear like a drunken dwarf.”

Whatever the Dragonborn wants to say next is interrupted by loud steps.

“And who am I supposed to talk to?” A young woman demands and her voice echoes through the cave.

“This one” Irbis answers, letting a stranger approach the corpse.

Sylenn turns her head.

She sees a young woman in a black traveling armor. Her long silver hair, so common for Moon elves, is braided.

“This is Alethaine,” Irbis announces. “She is going to talk to that… body. So good I’ve met a necromancer in these lands!”

Alethaine yawns.

“Good morning.”

“It’s almost sunset,” Sylenn says.

“It’s morning when I wake up,” Alethaine bites her lower lip. “Alae, etriel,” she adds in Elven.

Sylenn meets the necromancer’s eyes and feels a wave of uneasiness.

The girl looks like an elf. Pointy ears, slim and delicate body. But there is something off about her, as if she pretended very hard to look like Tel’Quessira.

But wasn't one.

“Oh, and they say all dragonborns look alike!” the Dragonborn laughs. “Look, Sylenn, you could have been sisters!”

“She looks nothing like me!” Sylenn whispers as quietly as she can. Alethaine’s ear twitches and Sylenn realizes the necromancer can perfectly hear her. “Besides, there is something… strange about her!”

“My mother is half human,” Alethaine says looking at the mutilated corpse. “Maybe, this is what bothers you?”

As if there were such a thing as a pure-blooded elf, Sylenn thinks. No, it’s something else about her that makes the old elf shiver.

“We are so lucky to find someone who can talk to the dead!” Irbis announces. “I entered the tavern, no hope to help the cause and that… that young woman was beating a cleric of Lathander with a book.”

“My dad taught me to beat the shit out of perverts who eye me out,” Alethaine casually says. ‘Hope the bastard has a concussion.”

“I think you broke his spine.”

“Even better!” Alethaine sits beside the corpse looking at the body with such tenderness as if it was a child or a cute animal. “Who is going to ask the questions?”

The Dragonborn pushes Sylenn forward and the warrior approaches. No, the body doesn’t disgust her.

It’s the young elf who scares her.

“Only five questions,” Alethaine says, puts her arm to the dead man’s chest, and mutters a spell. The corpse stirs and its eyes glow green.

Sylenn has witnessed death. But necromancy is so unnatural and disgusting that she hates the very idea of the prince's body being violated this way.

“Where is the map?” Sylenn asks.

The corpse is silent.

“You asked it the wrong way,” Alethaine says.

“Where is the map to the Dark Elves’ lair?”

“They burned it.”

“Fuck. Who?”

“The one who killed us,” the corpse says.

“Who killed you? And where is the lair?!”

“I don’t know.”

Alethaine grabs Sylenn’s hand. “You have one question left!”

“Who killed you?!”

“Shadows.”

And the corpse goes silent.

“Very informative,” Ibris mutters.

“You still have to pay me!” Alethaine says. “Ask better questions next time!”

Sylenn pulls away. Everything is lost. They better run to the town and warn than the Dark Elves will probably try to attack them soon enough…

“Watch out!” Ibris yells.

A shadow detaches itself from the walls and pierces the human with its claws. Blood spills on the stones

Sylenn grabs her sword. The whole place bursts with movement. Shadows, screeching and wailing, surround them. The Dragonborn falls and Sylenn knows he is already dead.

“Oh fuck…” Sylenn mutters.

Alethaine jumps on her feet.

“Do something!” Sylenn yells but the shadows surround Alethaine threatening to destroy the young necromancer with necrotic damage.

But instead…The claws don’t hurt her, as if she was an undead. Alethaine looks pissed and angry as if someone spilled her ale in the tavern. She pushes Sylenn away from the shadows and despite all the heavy armor, the elf feels herself thrown away like a kitten.

“OBEY” Alethaine orders. “BEGONE!”

The shadows curl around her. Sylenn thinks the creatures don’t understand why they can’t hurt the weird woman.

Her eyes glow green.

“I SAID, BEGONE!”

The last thing Sylenn remembers is the shadows running right through her.

Sylenn wakes up her head upside down. She notices a narrow pathway below her and also the fact someone is carrying her on their shoulders.

In a full heavy armor set.

“Easy money, easy money,” Alethaine mutters. “You, guys, didn’t even have loot I could scavenge! It seems like these are bad times for adventuring finances, am I right?”

Alethaine carries Sylenn as if she were a child. More than that, her sword and bow were still on her and it seemed like the necromancer couldn’t care less about the weight.

The sun still shines in the skies and Sylenn suppresses the irrational fear the girl is a vampire.

“Since you woke up, etriel, where to go next?”

“I’m Sylenn. Don’t call me etriel, I am not a noble.”

“All right, even better! So, where?”

… Alethaine finds Sylenn’s house when it’s already dark. She opens the door with her leg and the loud slam echoes through the empty streets.

Then, the necromancer gently places the wounded fighter on the bed and stretches like a lazy cat.

“You are wounded,” Alethaine says. “Do you have bandages?”

Sylenn tries to get rid of her armor but can’t. All her body aches and she realizes she has a burning wound on her stomach.

“Stay still,” the necromancer orders and starts to unlace the straps.

“Do you know how to do it?” Sylenn wonders. “Or you only tend the dead?”

“My mother is just like you. Constantly comes home in her armor and it’s just meat and blood under it. I’ve learned to tend wounds at a very early age. Well, she doesn’t wear heavy armor - says it restrains her in a fight”

“So your mother is a berserker?”

“She prefers ‘barbarian’ but yes.”

Sylenn relaxes and allows Alethaine to bandage the wounds. Another wave of fear passes through the elf when she notices how the necromancers lick her lips at the sight of blood”

“What are you?” Sylenn asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You are not an elf but you look like one. Try to act like one. But you can’t lie to the elves, we know you are not one of us. So, I ask you again, Alethaine, what are you?”

Alethaine sits in the armchair looking straight into Sylenn’s eyes. The girl is so fucking pale she could have been a ghost.

Then she opens her mouth.

“What the…” Sylenn elbows. “Are you a vampire?!”

“I am a dhampir. This is much worse! I once bit my dad’s wrists and the flesh wouldn’t regenerate for a month!” Alethaine smiles. “And it’s a little bit offensive considering I saved you.”

Sylenn lies back on the bed. Dhampirs… Half-dead children of vampires. Sylenn thought they were legends.

But one of them sits in front of her.

“I can leave,” Alethaine says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. You’ve saved me. Be… my guest.”

It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t see a five-century-old elven warrior in her. Alethaine speaks in perfect elven and curses like a sailor. Her eyes burn as Sylenn tells her about her own adventures and about elven history. As she concentrates on the stories, her eyes glow red and she bites her right thumb.

By the morning Sylenn finally manages to get into reverie – and this one is bitter again.

Her leg is broken in two and she limps returning home. Hunting has gone wrong and she fell from the hill, snapping her delicate bones.

She mutters curses all the way back and then collapses in the armchair.

Then she realizes she isn’t alone.

Astarion, her Little Star, stands in the center of the room, arms wide open. His eyes are closed and a smile lingers on his pretty face. He is only fourteen and he still retains many of his child features, but Sylenn can already see the adult he is becoming.

He is in the reverie, deep in his own memories – or, maybe, shadows of his past lives. Or ghosts of his future, should he inherit the prophetic gift.

The sun showers his face in its warmth and Sylenn forgets about pain.

Her boy, the gift from the gods.

She just keeps looking at him.

Until the memory fades away.

Sylenn gets up – her wounds are more or less healed. The elf feels dizzy as she goes downstairs.

And sees Alethaine cleaning the set of armor.

“Good morning, Sylenn,” Alethaine bares her fangs. “You’ve slept like a human.”

“You shouldn’t have…”

“No worries, I don’t want to go outside. That dick of a Lathander priest is looking for me anyway. It’s not like I can't run away from a halfling but if I can keep a low profile, I should. Oh…” She looks at Sylenn. “Are you all right?”

Sylenn blinks and realizes she’s been crying. “I… am. Bad memories. And good ones.”

“I can listen if you want,” Alethaine implores.

“How old are you?” Sylenn suddenly asks. “You look rather young for an elf to be on her own.”

“I am twenty-four. I just look… smaller. Because I am a dhampir, you know.”

“Oh, I see… But we rarely let our children go when they are younger than twenty-five. Though, I let mine.”

“I was raised in a human village, and my mother is half a human…And my dad… well, that's a story for another time.”

Sylenn sits down. She rarely talks about her son but for some reason, she feels like she will die if she doesn’t tell her sorrows to that stranger.

“I had a son. Many years ago. He was your age when I let him go and he died fifteen years later. He was my only one. I still see him when I reverie.”

“Oh,” Alethaine says. “I am sorry.”

Both elves are silent. Alethaine looks out the window.

“You know… I sometimes think that if I die, my parents will never know what happened to me. Or they will decades or centuries later.”

Sylenn bitterly smiles. “We elves think we are invincible. But we are not. Death is a rare guest among us, but there is nothing scarier than an elf burying their child. I lost my daughter when she was four, had a miscarriage – and then my son was just killed. Some clerics even thought I was cursed. Though, almost every human has been through the same shit. That corpse you were talking to is the only son of a local ruler. And he will have to bury him.”

Alethaine is silent. Her face resembles a mask and it’s difficult to decipher her emotions.

Then the dhampir stands up and hugs Sylenn burying her face in her chest.

“I am sorry, Sylenn. I am sorry for what has happened to you,” she says and her words are sincere. Sylenn allows tears to flow down her cheeks as she strokes Alethaine’s back.

What are her parents like, Sylenn wonders. Since she is a dhampir, one of them is a vampire. She mentioned her mother, a warrior like Sylenn. But about her father? Do vampires raise their children? Anyway, whoever was responsible for Alethaine’s upbringing did a good job. A necromancer and a dhampir, she saved Sylenn, tended her wounds, and listened to her.

Sylenn makes a mental note to mention Alethaine in her prayers next time. May her parents never have to go through what Sylenn did.

“Well, I suppose I need to flee the town,” Alethaine smiles. “I think I should go to Waterdeep. I can easily mingle with the local weirdos!”

“Thank you, Alethaine,” Sylenn smiles. “I am sorry for being rude”.

“I got used to elves staring at me as if I were a doppelganger.”

“I-I don’t have money to pay you,” Sylenn gets up. “But I want to.”

Sylenn goes to the basement. Turns off the protecting sigils and takes a small chest out of its hiding place.

“I want to give you something,” Sylenn returns to the room. She places the chest on the table and opens it. “When my son said he would leave me with the first snow, I decided to make him a parting gift” Sylenn takes out a circlet. “But I was no artisan and I didn’t finish it. I was supposed to give it to him when he would return to receive his adult name…”

“But he never did,” Alethaine finishes.

“I finished the circlet anyway but I had no one to give it to. I don’t have children, I will never have grandsons and granddaughters. And this thing just lies here reminding me of what I’ve lost.”

Sylenn takes the precious circlet and crowns Alethaine’s head. The circlet fits her perfectly and suits her hair. The small star is placed in the center of her forehead.

“You can’t give it to me,” Alethaine mutters.

“I can. Take it. It’s yours. Things are made to be used. You are a beautiful young woman, wear it. Besides, I don’t think you’ve had a lot of elven adornments.”

Alethaine looks at the mirror and smiles baring her fangs. Sylenn chuckles: maybe this one is half-dead and a necromancer, but a girl is a girl.

“Thank you, Sylenn.”

“But don’t you dare sell it. If you do, I will find you,” Sylenn threatens.

“I wouldn't even think about it!”

Sylenn hugs Alethaine again. “Uluvathae, Alethaine.”

“Uluvathae, Sylenn.”

Alethaine goes outside and soon disappears in the dark.

Sylenn is alone again. Suddenly, she feels like pieces of her sadness have gone, as if Alethaine somehow took them away. Well, Sylenn isn’t old – she has centuries of life ahead.

Maybe it’s too early to bury herself.

She is going back to Evereska. Her husband, Caeldrim must have died already, he was much older than her – so she needs to pay respects to him. And then… Then she will decide what to do next.

Sylenn has the next reverie on the road to the east. She hopes it will be something neutral, something that won’t harm her soul but the memories are merciless to the elf.

Sylenn enters the library. Her mind is preoccupied with the news about Yuan-ti’s attacks on the elven settlements. Fucking serpents need to learn Tel'Quessir had been here before them and will stay when the snake become ashes.

“Thinking of the snakes again, o’si?” Astarion asks.

He is nineteen, still an adolescent, not an adult. He reads a book on human laws and customs and bites his right thumb as it helps him to concentrate.

“Is there something about them in these books of yours?”

“No. Did you know that humans have so many laws about inheritance and burial?” Astarion flips the page. “Listen!”

Sylenn tries not to show that those things sound boring to her. History, that’s where her interests lie. But Astarion is so enchanted with all these articles and small details and many differences between the tribes and cities of humans that she listens.

At least, she can reverie to hear his voice again.

Sylenn wakes up crying again. She looks at the starry sky and sniffs.

Weird, she later thinks that the necromancer, Alethaine, was biting her right thumb the same way Astarion did centuries ago.

Tag list

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talesfrommedinastation · 3 months

Text

My Redneck Neighbor Doug has watched The Bad Batch Season 3 opener:

LEEEEET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

This is more pithy than normal: Doug's been busy with work, as have I. But I'm determined to hear his thoughts on The Daddy Warcrimes 'n Company so here we go!

These were all via text messages, btw.

CW: Doug Doug's as you know Doug will do. Away!

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

Episode 1: 'Little Orphan Blondie's Shit Internship at The Museum of Science and Industry'

Poor Little Orphan Blondie, stuck in The Museum of Science and Industry in a shit summer job because they got bills to pay. Except they got rid of the dinosaurs and walk in heart and filled it with gross shit.

Hey look, they still got the coal mine exhibit! Man I miss Chicago.

(Doug, that museum has never had dinosaurs. “What, since when?”)

MUTANT JIMMERS EVERYWHERE! Aw, Little Orphan Blondie gave one her chicken nuggets! And it’s shy, aw, I hope it’s okay.

Poor Mutant Jimmers…she named her?! Swear to Christ Almighty if that dog gets Old Yeller’d I’ll just lose it.

That freaky alien thing that ran the mall on the ocean looks sad, I bet she wishes she fell into the water and got eaten by a shark or something. I wish you did too, lady.

The Sons of Robocop really are everywhere, they must be a cult or something. They look cool, I’d join, why not. Think they get 401ks?

Oh man, Daddy Warcrimes is down bad. Poor Daddy Warcrimes. Man, all my clone boys are stooped and sad…this ain’t good.

At least Little Orphan Blondie can craft! Man, she should start selling those at the Museum of Science and Industry’s gift shop. Maybe Tarkin can bring one back for the grandchildren he’s not allowed to talk to since the restraining order was put in.

Oh, there’s Stepsister Beth, she seems on edge. Must’ve gotten divorced recently, don’t blame her ex, I bet she screamed at him for leaving cabinets open who knows. How do her eyeballs not hurt after wearing those dumb glasses all day?

Episode 2: 'Night Elves and Neverland Ranch'

The night elves from Warcraft invaded Star Wars and got horns or something and now they have a castle that looks like a boss level in Diablo IV or V or how many Diablo games they got now.

Now they yelling at people and throwing them in the basement today. Makes sense, gotta fight the orcs and stuff. Think they fight the orcs in the basement?

The Night Elf Horned Queen hired Daddy Rambo and Julio to get people, I guess they’re turning into Boba Fett or something. They got her son's horn back, guess that's good. Oh they need new paint jobs on their armor.

Do they end up in the basement in the Diablo Boss Level? No? And off they go!

Daddy Rambo and Julio are in their homeland of FLORIDA! Hell yeah, SPACE FLORIDA! And they’re bringing the talking trashcan with them using straps! Go Julio go! Yeah, boa vines, this is TOTALLY the Everglades!

Escaped clone boys! Oh man! Shit, is Neverland Ranch in the jungle? Oh man–oh, they know what they’re doing. Good kids. Real good kids. Oh what happened to the rest of them? Oh Meat Muffin, this ain't good :(.

You know what? Them clone boys are smart, take it back, this ain’t Space Florida, this is Space Louisiana! Them baby boys gone get feral and run off into the bayou and live in the caves and now you know my origin story, Meat Muffin!

If this was Florida they'd just end up working the late shift at Zaxby's and smoking rocks in the parking lot. We know better, we French and all.

I bet they’ve been living on nutria and half-empty chicken boxes from behind the gas stations. Resourceful scrappy kids and I can tell its making Daddy Rambo proud.

Oh holy SHIT, there go them vines! It's like the kudzu all over again, maybe this is LaFourche Parish?

See, them boys are definitely white trash, Mandalorian rednecks. Look at em, living in the woods and hijacking a plane, but they good kids, saving their brothers. Even saved the robot too.

Man, all the feels, them poor little boys. What will they do now? Oh, they're going to Space Daytona! Good, wait, I saw the trailer, doesn't the Empire invade it? THIS AIN'T GOOD MEAT MUFFIN!!!

Wait...where's Toaster Strudel and Rex?

Episode 3: 'Blondie Got a Gun'

Well here's the Emperor. He wants to be immortal. Gotta make that other movie make sense or something.

Where's Darth Vader? Is he running the government when the Emperor is running around giggling?

Don’t you DARE kill Mutant Jimmers, you damn droid. I hate that ugly assed stupid thing. It looks like its scarecrow daddy fucked a microwave and then left it enough money to go to Planned Parenthood but instead spent it on crack and there ya go.

Oh shut your goddamned yap, Jimmy the Scientist. I bet he gloves that hand up because he keeps shoving it up his own ass and that's why he walks funny all the damn time.

The Emperor also has a Diablo IV or VIII boss level all to himself too at the Museum of Science and Industry. How many Diablo games are there, Meat Muffin?

YEAH, LITTLE ORPHAN BLONDIE! GIT ER DONE!!! They're out! Oh wow! There she goes with Daddy Warcrimes! Kill em all and let GOD SORT THEM OUT! That's my GIRL!!!!

Blondie’s got a gun

Her whole world's come undone

Shooting droids is FUN!

GO MUTANT JIMMERS GO!!!!

YEAH BLONDIE DADDY WARCRIMES AND MUTANT JIMMERS!!!!!!

I AIN'T A BULLS FAN BUT REPEAT THE THREE PEAT! YEAH!!!!!!

....so when we gonna get Toaster Strudel and Rex? Next one? Where's my reg boys?!

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

Tagging those who missed my Cajun neighbor. LOOKS LIKE REDNECK DOUG IS BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS!

@skellymom @amalthiaph @eyecandyeoz @cdblake1565 @sued134 @merkitty49 @supremechancellorrex @yeehawgeek @wrenkenstein @techs-stitches @deezlees @autistic-artistech @perfectlywingedcrusade @auntie-venom @megmca @thecoffeelorian

#tbb #cloneforce99 #thebadbatch #redneck doug #doug watches star wars #star wars tv #cajun doug #doug why #star wars fans #the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #bad batch season 3 #tbb season three #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 #fan reaction

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stormcallart · 2 years

Note

I had this idea, Toshi is an orc who is looking after his human/elf baby, Izuku.

Anon your mind. What a great idea! An angry orc traveling far and wide with adopted little elf!izuku. And yea, Toshinori even made him a little flower crown- but don't mention it to him.. it may be the last thing you ever do.

#storm answers #allsmite #all might #yagi toshinori #izuky midoriya #deku #fantasy au #dadmight #orc!allsmite #elf!izuku #CANNOT stop thinking about toshi with long hair #sdahfjs

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soralinklokidottirofmirkwood · 1 year

Text

The Hobbit x baby elf reader (both male and female versions.)

Age: newborn after the eagles saved them from Azog the Company meets one of the greatest treasures in Middle Earth who happens to be the prince/princess of a rare species of elves.

These are fanfics from my old wattpad account I had trouble with the verification process it won’t let me comment, post or reply so I had to delete it but I managed to start a new with tumblr I saved my fanfics from my old wattpad on the notes app.

Male version:

No one's POV:

The company of Thorin Oakenshield had continued their Journey to Erebor after Thorin had recovered from his injuries. As they are in an open field they are shocked to find what appeared to be a battle field, dead orcs, wargs and elves with normal and unusual hair colors. From the looks of it there were no survivors that is to the eyes of men.

They began picking up the bodies to bury the elves so they can be put to rest but doing so the sound of crying is heard, Bilbo walks over to the dead couple a she elf with silver hair and a fair complexion, holding her protectively was a male elf he assumes is her husband with midnight blue hair and a tan complexion. the crying seems to be coming from them, when he got closer he saw something moving through the she elf's arms "Ohh my." He said gently moving her arms to reveal a bundle of white blanket.

Bilbo managed to remove the bundle from the corpse but when he did so the crying got louder. He moved the blanket reveling to his, the dwarves and Gandalf's surprise a baby elf! A male elf to be precise he looked just like the male they assume was his father but his hair faded to pastel blue at the tips. When Bilbo held him the little boy opened his eyes to reveal that he had two different eye colors, one eye was the color of starlight while the other was the color of amethyst. Thorin was enhanced by those eyes that held so much innocence and curiosity within them. He was a sucker for children and he had heard that elves couldn't reproduce very often like dwarves and that they are very protective of their young like dwarves "By my beard! Your a pretty thing aren't you little one?." Gandalf asked picking up the child who was looking around in curiosity "We should take him with us." Thorin said "Even thought he's an elf he's just a child who just lost he's family." Dwalin said placing a hand on the elflings head earning a squeal from him "What's that on his wee neck?" Ori asked. Gandalf saw a gorgeous silver crescent moon necklace with a sapphire around the boys neck and gasped "A pendant of power. You are the prince of the moonlight elves my boy." Gandalf said holding the boy protectively making the dwarves gasp "I thought they disappeared centuries ago after the war in the first age." Balin said eyeing the necklace around the child's neck "The boy is more special then I thought." Dori said "I think the boy has a name though. Look at his blanket." Oin said pointing to the blanket. Thorin took the corner of the blanket to see a name Y/N engraved in F/C threading "Y/N I like it." Bilbo said smiling fondly at the elfling.

Not wanting to waist anymore time the company continue their journey to Erebor with their newest addition in Gandalf's arms. The boy was a true angel, he slept the whole night, he was only fussy if he was hungry, needed a change or a nap but he seems to have a severe trauma with orcs after they killed his parents and the guards with them when they saw Orcs on the cliff side.

After they arrived at Beorn's home Y/N seemed to be fond of the skin changer dual to his size "Hello little fawn." Beorn said gently holding Y/N who was squealing from the butterfly on his little nose "Your very energetic Y/N." Beorn said letting out a deep chuckle. The company arrived to Mirkwood in order to get to Erebor but they had to stay on the path. Fili, Kili and Ori were watching Y/N with Fili holding him while the two brothers and youngest dwarf made you laugh.

All was peaceful until the spiders attacked.

Thorin held you protectively after Bilbo cut them all free but Bilbo was no where in sight anymore like he just disappeared and all Morgoth fell lose when the woodland elves came and killed the rest of the spiders and take them in for questioning "My prince they have a child!" one of the elves said taking you from Thorin "What are you doing with a child filth?" The blond asked taking you into his arms! When he did he removed the blanket to see to his surprise that your an elfling "DID YOU KIDNAPPED THIS CHILD?" He shouted to the dwarves upsetting you "Legolas please." A she elf with red hair said "I'm sorry little one." Legolas said gently cradling you thus calming you down "We shall move out." Legolas said carrying you "You have beautiful eyes little one." Legolas said "Look at his hair." A black haired elf said pointing to your midnight blue fading to pastel blue hair making Legolas look at it as well "So unusual." He said running his fingers through your hair while you just poked his cheek in curiosity like the innocent little bean you are "HE'S SO CUTE." A she elf gushed at you making you giggle at the attention you where receiving earning chuckles from the adult elves.

When you reached Mirkwood palace

you received more attention although you didn't like to many eyes on you so you whimpered "What's wrong little one?" Legolas asked hearing and seeing your discomfort "Oh it's ok little brother." He said with a smile 'I hope Ada will be gentle with him.' Legolas thinks to himself walking to the throne room after his father finished interrogating Thorin Oakenshield. Legolas stops in front of massive double doors with two guards blocking them, upon seeing him the guards bowed and opened the door for him. Once he was inside the Throne room Legolas sees his father. King Thranduil sitting on his throne with his signature bored expression until he saw you in his sons arms "That child." Thranduil said in awe getting up from his throne and slowly walking towards you and Legolas. He gently placed his hand on your head making you giggle from how big his hand is compared to your little head earning a small smile from the king as he gently took you from the prince "Where did you come from little one." He asked looking into your starlight silver and amethyst purple eyes until his eyes landed on your necklace "You are of the moonlight elves." He said holding it in his palm as you cooed at him until a growl came from your stomach making you whimper once again "Ohh don't cry little brother." Legolas said while a maid came in with a glass bottle of elks Milk in hand.

Thranduil takes the bottle and begins feeding you then burps you.

With your stomach full you fell asleep in the kings warm arms making him smile warmly at how tiny you are in his arms "Good night little star." He said gently kissing your head as he watches you close your eyes with a little squeak.

The next morning Bilbo managed to free the dwarves and grab you without the elves seeing him with help from his lucky (cursed) ring of course.

Long story short in Laketown Bard and his children love you, When Smaug attacked Sigrid held you the whole time, during the battle of the Five Armies you stayed with the Bardlings, after the battle everyone survives and makes peace, Thranduil adopts you as his new son after Legolas heads out to find Strider, Thorin and Thranduil mended the alliance between Elves and dwarves and as for you. You became the new prince of Mirkwood after Thranduil adopted you and everyone is wrapped around you chubby little finger.

Female Version.

No one's POV:

Bilbo managed to remove the bundle from the corpse but when he did so the crying got louder. He moved the blanket reveling to his, the dwarves and Gandalf's surprise a baby elf! A female elf to be precise she looked just like the female who they assumed was her mother but with her father’s hair and skin and her hair faded to pastel blue at the tips. When Bilbo held her the little girl opened her eyes to reveal that she had two different eye colors, one eye was the color of starlight while the other was the color of amethyst. Thorin was enhanced by those eyes that held so much innocence and curiosity within them. He was a sucker for children and he had heard that elves couldn't reproduce very often like dwarves and that they are very protective of their young like dwarves "By my beard! Your a pretty thing aren't you little one?." Gandalf asked picking up the child who was looking around in curiosity "We should take her with us." Thorin said "Even thought she's an elf she's just a child who just lost her family." Dwalin said placing a hand on the elflings head earning a squeal from her "What's that on her wee neck?" Ori asked. Gandalf saw a gorgeous silver crescent moon necklace with a sapphire around the girls neck and gasped "A pendant of power. You are the princess of the moonlight elves my girl." Gandalf said holding the girl protectively making the dwarves gasp "I thought they disappeared centuries ago after the war in the first age." Balin said eyeing the necklace around the child's neck "The girl is more special then I thought." Dori said "I think the girl has a name though. Look at her blanket." Oin said pointing to the blanket. Thorin took the corner of the blanket to see a name Y/N engraved in F/C threading "Y/N I like it." Bilbo said smiling fondly at the elfling.

Not wanting to waist anymore time the company continue their journey to Erebor with their newest addition in Gandalf's arms. The girl was a true angel, she slept the whole night, she was only fussy if she was hungry, needed a change or a nap but she seems to have a severe trauma with orcs after they killed her parents and the guards with them when they saw Orcs on the cliff side.

After they arrived at Beorn's home Y/N seemed to be fond of the skin changer dual to his size "Hello little fawn." Beorn said gently holding Y/N who was squealing from the butterfly on her little nose "Your very energetic Y/N." Beorn said letting out a deep chuckle. The company arrived to Mirkwood in order to get to Erebor but they had to stay on the path. Fili, Kili and Ori were watching Y/N with Fili holding her while the two brothers and youngest dwarf made you laugh.

All was peaceful until the spiders attacked.

Thorin held you protectively after Bilbo cut them all free but Bilbo was no where in sight anymore like he just disappeared and all Morgoth fell lose when the woodland elves came and killed the rest of the spiders and take them in for questioning "My prince they have a child!" one of the elves said taking you from Thorin "What are you doing with a child filth?" The blond asked taking you into his arms! When he did he removed the blanket to see to his surprise that your an elfling "DID YOU KIDNAPPED THIS CHILD?" He shouted to the dwarves upsetting you "Legolas please." A she elf with red hair said "I'm sorry little one." Legolas said gently cradling you thus calming you down "We shall move out." Legolas said carrying you "You have beautiful eyes little one." Legolas said "Look at her hair." A black haired elf said pointing to your midnight blue fading to pastel blue hair making Legolas look at it as well "So unusual." He said running his fingers through your hair while you just poked his cheek in curiosity like the innocent little bean you are "SHE'S SO CUTE." A she elf gushed at you making you giggle at the attention you where receiving earning chuckles from the adult elves.

When you reached Mirkwood palace

you received more attention although you didn't like to many eyes on you so you whimpered "What's wrong little one?" Legolas asked hearing and seeing your discomfort "Oh it's ok little sister." He said with a smile 'I hope Ada will be gentle with her.' Legolas thinks to himself walking to the throne room after his father finished interrogating Thorin Oakenshield. Legolas stops in front of massive double doors with two guards blocking them, upon seeing him the guards bowed and opened the door for him. Once he was inside the Throne room Legolas sees his father. King Thranduil sitting on his throne with his signature bored expression until he saw you in his sons arms "That child." Thranduil said in awe getting up from his throne and slowly walking towards you and Legolas. He gently placed his hand on your head making you giggle from how big his hand is compared to your little head earning a small smile from the king as he gently took you from the prince "Where did you come from little one." He asked looking into your starlight silver and amethyst purple eyes until his eyes landed on your necklace "You are of the moonlight elves." He said holding it in his palm as you cooed at him until a growl came from your stomach making you whimper once again "Ohh don't cry little sister." Legolas said while a maid came in with a glass bottle of elks Milk in hand.

Thranduil takes the bottle and begins feeding you then burps you.

The next morning Bilbo managed to free the dwarves and grab you without the elves seeing him with help from his lucky (cursed) ring of course.

Long story short in Laketown Bard and his children love you, When Smaug attacked Sigrid held you the whole time, during the battle of the Five Armies you stayed with the Bardlings, after the battle everyone survives and makes peace, Thranduil adopts you as his new daughter after Legolas heads out to find Strider, Thorin and Thranduil mended the alliance between Elves and dwarves and as for you. You became the new princess of Mirkwood after Thranduil adopted you and everyone is wrapped around you chubby little finger.

#mirkwood elves #platonic #the hobbit #legolas #thranduil #tauriel #king thorin #baby reader #bilbo baggins #the company of thorin oakenshield #male reader #female reader #gandalf

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sofjoy82 · 1 year

Text

I’ve been wanting to make a snippet for @stormcallart Elf Izuku and Orc Toshi AU for a while now. I added my own little ✨spice✨ with some plot explaining how Toshi got a baby elf.

~~~

It wasn’t unusual for the tavern to be filled with interesting patrons throughout the night. Particularly towards the end of the day when the weary traveler stopped for a drink.

Kurogiri knew not to ask where anyone was going, who they were, or what their business was. Everyone had their own story and either he didn’t care to know or he wasn’t supposed to know.

The tavern was popular amongst thieves and travelers for that reason. People could come and not have to worry about questions or the law. In this tavern they were just men and women grabbing a drink, gambling, or talking.

Kurogiri was putting some coins away when he saw the door open in the corner of his eye. A large man stepped into the tavern and held the door open for someone behind him before closing the door and walking over to the bar. The bartender looked up at his patron and greeted him when he sat down with a grunt.

It was an orc. A rather large one at that. Orcs were regarded as a rather violent race of creature and this man was covered in scars from old battles. His hair was bone white and styled into two large bangs. He set his axe down and leaned it against the bar before settling down.

Kurogiri nodded to the man and took out a glass for him. “Afternoon, Sir. Is there anything I can get you?”

The orc had been looking to the side at something and looked back up at Kurogiri when he was spoken to. “An ale,” He said gruffly, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a few coins. He placed them onto the bar and nodded to the chair beside him. “And a milk for my companion. If you have it I’d also like a pen and paper for him.”

Kurogiri hadn’t noticed until that moment that the orc wasn’t alone.

The bartender leaned over the counter slightly to look down at his other patron, a small elven boy. He had to be three or four summers old. His pointed ears and forest green hair were indicators of his elvish heritage. A mass of freckles splattered his face and two big green eyes peered up at Kurogiri.

The boy smiled and waved at Kurogiri before attempted to crawl up into the bar stool. The orc watched him struggle for a moment before reaching down and plopping him down in the chair beside him. The boy beamed as the orc fixed the flower crown in his hair.

Kurogiri swiped the coins into his pouch before fetching the order. The orc nodded his head in thanks when he was handed his ale and the little boy happily thanked the bartender when handed his milk and paper.

The orc waited until his ward was happily doodling away on his paper before holding up a hand and calling the bartender back over. Kurogiri walked back and saw the orc had a laid out a wanted poster.

“Has this man come through here?” The orc questioned, tapping on the sketch on the paper. Kurogiri only glanced at the sign before shaking his head in denial. “I don’t remember any of my customers, much less who comes and goes.” He said automatically.

You don’t sell out clients. As long as they paid their tab Kurogiri had no issue with who or what they were. People wouldn’t want to come to his tavern if they found he was selling them out.

The orc studied him for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip of his ale and calmly explaining his reasoning.

“I’m trying to find this little one his mother.” He nodded to the boy beside him, who wasn’t really listening to the adults. “Inko was my friend and Izuku’s mother. I believe this man took her. He left the kid in the house and I’ve been caring for him since. If I find him I can figure out what happened to her.”

Toshinori read the silence of the bartender and took out the poster again. This time Kurogiri took it wordlessly.

“His name is Hisashi Shigraki, but people know him as All For One.” Toshinori added, watching the other man study the poster.

“I don’t know him personally, but I know of him.” He lowered his voice, watching the other patrons carefully to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “He’s known as the demon king. A king of thieves and criminals. I don’t know what he wants with your friend, but if you find the right person they’ll be able to take you to him. I’d bet someone here may know.”

With that, Kurogiri handed the poster back and walked away to attend to other patrons around the bar. Toshinori sighed and took another swig of his ale.

It had been months since Inko disappeared. They grew up together as children. Toshinori admired her for her kindness and gentle beauty. He had been horrified when Izuku came to his home in the middle of the night, crying that someone took his mama. Since then Toshinori had been asking around and following leads to try and find the woman. He used his connections as a bounty hunter to get here.

Toshinori could feel Izukus eyes on him and glanced at the boy. Izuku was looking up at him with a hopeful expression.

“Are you trying to find mama?” He asked hopefully. It had been close to a year since Mr Toshi took him in. They had been going on adventures together and catching bad guys, all while looking for his mama.

Izuku wanted to feel mamas warm hugs again. See her smile, hear her laugh, and play with her. He hoped secretly that she’d make Toshi his new dad. Then they could be a family who went on adventures together!

A gentle hand ruffled Izukus hair, making the boy smile softly and lean into the touch. “We’ll get her back.” Toshinori promised. He had been promising himself that since the beginning. He’d find Inko and bring her home.

The orc quickly changed the subject to something more positive and pointed at the picture Izuku had drawn. “What’s this?” He questioned, taking the paper and holding it up to study. Izuku smiled and pointed at each of the figures. “Its us!” He explained proudly. “You, me, and mama.”

Toshinori felt his heart soften at the picture. It was a little family portrait. They were all smiling in a field of flowers and happy. It sometimes amazed him how Izuku managed to see such a bright and happy future at all times. Perhaps it was childish wonder and innocence or the darkness the orc had seen, but he truly hoped it never left his boy.

The tender little moment was interrupted when a heavy hand fell on Toshinoris shoulder. “I heard you’re looking for trouble.” A gruff voice began. The orc stiffened and quickly turned in his chair to face the speaker.

A large man with blond hair smirked down at Toshinori. Izuku winced when he saw one of his eyes was scared over and gone, replaced with a glass orb. Toshinori recognized him as Gato, although many people knew him as the rather violent bandit Muscular.

Toshinori spoke firmly, not allowing himself to let his guard down around the criminal. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just here for a drink with my son.”

The blond sneered at Toshinori. “Because I heard you were looking for the demon king. That sounds like trouble.”

It was at that moment that Toshinori noticed several other men in the tavern watching them. Four of them sat in the back of the tavern, drinking as they watched the confrontation. The hairs on the back of Yagis neck stood on end as he realized they were waiting for him.

Toshinori narrowed his eyes and let his hand fall to his belt where his knife rested in its sheath. Izuku was looking at the adults around him with wide eyes. “It’s not a problem unless we make it one. As I said, I’m enjoying a nice evening with my son.”

It quickly became clear that this man wasn’t going to stop bothering Toshinori. The orc stood and tried to grab Izuku to carry him out, but at that moment Gato lashed out with a wicked laugh and lunged at the orc.

Izuku squeaked and jumped in his chair when his caretaker reacted in an instant, grabbing the other man by the wrist and back of the neck and yanking him forward, slamming him into the bar counter. The force knocked several glasses off the counter to the floor where they shattered. Gato yelled in surprise and pain and quickly tried to wrench himself out of the orcs grip.

Toshinori held the writhing man down for another moment before letting him go and allowing him to scramble back. Gato looked surprise at being taken on like that. Toshinori had a calm expression on his face as he reached over and picked up Izuku and placed him onto the bar. He made eye contact with Kurogiri and set down a couple of coins.

“Give him a milk, please. This’ll only take a minute.”

Izuku sat on the counter with a cold glass of milk as he watched his adoptive father fight with the big scary man. He sipped on his milk calmly and followed the fight as Toshinori delivered blow after blow to Gato. Soon the other thieves joined in an attempt to defend their friend, but quickly realized fighting a massive orc after several ales was by far not a good idea.

Kurogiri stood beside Izuku and cleaned a glass as he watched the fight unfold. He noted the calm demeanor of the child and hummed. “Does this happen a lot?” He questioned.

Izuku nodded and took a sip of his milk. “A lot.”

In the end Toshinori dropped the last bandit on the floor and watched with a dark look as the man scurried away in fear. Now that that was handled, he zeroed in on Muscular who was tending to a broken nose. His excitement over the fight seemed to have waned as he realized they hadn’t even landed a blow on the orc.

Toshinori walked over to Gato and yanked him up by the front of his shirt, peeling him off of the floor. “Where is All For One?” He demanded harshly.

Gato smiled up at him, showing a gap where a tooth had been just a moment ago, and let out a laugh of disbelief. “I guess you earned it, big guy. All For One will be able to take care of you. He has a small outpost down the river. He’ll kill you, I hope you know that.”

Toshinori studied him for a moment before reaching down and grabbing the coin pouch at Gatos belt. The thief’s eyes widened as the pouch was tossed over to the bar. Kurogiri gave a nod of thanks and accepted the payment without a word.

Gato was dropped like a doll and ignored as Toshinori walked over to his boy. He took Izukus drawing and carefully rolled it up and stowed it in his bag before lifting the elf into his arms. He raised a questioning brow when he saw Izuku had a whole bottle of milk in his arms.

Izuku smiled at his papa and happily held up the gift from Mr Kurogiri. “Can we come back here again? I had fun!”

Toshinori smiled at his boy and carried him out of the tavern. “Sure. I had fun as well.”

#midoriya izuku #all might #sofstash #fantasy #snippet

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hermitcraft-8 · 6 months

Text

A Hole In Your Heart

a brontel story

Brontel did not have a sad childhood.

That was something a lot of people who knew him as a child seemed to dispute, for some reason or another, but it was simple as that. He did not have a sad childhood.

He didn’t remember much from his early life- he remembered his mother putting him on stages in little dresses and having him dance for her friends, he remembered her lavishing him with praise and affection, giving him anything he wanted, propping him up like a doll and letting everyone pet him and coo over him. He loved it- of course he did, what kind of child didn’t love being treated like a princess?

But then things began to change. He didn’t lose any of his baby fat, didn’t get slimmer. In fact, as he got older, he just got bigger and bigger. Obviously, no one else minded- a fat dwarf was a healthy dwarf- but his mother started to complain. She stopped showing him off, stopped parading him around. She’d put him on diets and workout regimens, talk about how he was starting to look more like a hill dwarf than a mountain dwarf, talk about how he needed some muscle underneath all that padding.

His father never said anything. He was complacent in all of it, a sort of dull, dry, resignation to everything he said. When Brontel ran to him crying because his mother called him a pig for eating too much, he would sigh and run a hand over his braided beard and tell him to grow up.

And then Brontel and his mother started to fight.

Mostly verbal arguments, but they’d often dissolve into his mother bashing at his ear, or folding him over a table to spank him until he stopped talking, or locking him in his room for whole days at a time with no food or water. They’d be over little things too- him wanting a cookie with dinner, her insisting he didn’t need the fattening, or him wanting to visit his Aunt, a tiefling, her insisting he was already strange enough.

That was something Brontel never understood about his mother. She couldn’t stand the tourists, or even the dwarvish immigrants. She complained incessantly about hill dwarves and even mountain dwarf adventurers, and insisted that anyone who chose to leave their city, to mingle with humans and elves, was clearly out of their mind.

For someone who hated elves as much as she did, Brontel always thought it was strange how much she loved elven clothes.

That, at least, was something they could agree on. The elven silks and carefully woven patterns that the adventurers wore were stunning, and some of Brontel’s favorite moments were spent sitting in the square with his mother, watching the high elves swirl from booth to booth. Sometimes his mother would scoff and make snide comments about the adventurers, but oftentimes she just sat in silence, only speaking to point out a dress or a tunic she thought Brontel would like.

So, no, Brontel did not have a bad life. Even with the arguments, even with the constant shame and embarrassment, his mother was not cruel. She’d buy him things, and they’d go out for lunch, and they would laugh together.

He had a younger cousin on his father’s side, Gortimer, a half dwarf, half orc, who his mother forbade him from seeing. Of course, he did anyway, visiting her any time he could and talking to her about everything, up until his mother heard about it and threatened to never let him leave the house without her present. Then and only then, he stopped.

When he was twenty-five, she started throwing parties. It was mostly for friends and family, but every once in a while, some stranger would find their way in, and she’d spend the evening by Brontel’s ear, picking them apart. Brontel didn’t mind- it was amusing, and he himself was not immune to gossip.

And then, one day, at a party, when Brontel was 34, still so young in dwarf years, he met Expen. Expen was one of those strangers who found their way in, and, to Brontel’s mother’s disgust, she was half elf, half dwarf.

And she was beautiful.

She had the height and beard of a dwarf, but with the ears and face of an elf. She was lean and muscular, and had a little scar on her eyebrow.

Brontel smuggled her up to his bedroom, where they spent the night silencing themselves for fear of Brontel’s mother hearing. The next morning, Expen snuck out a window, and Brontel never saw her again.

That was not the last time Brontel snuck off with the strangers of the party. Some were older than him, sometimes by a lot. Some were dwarven, some were not. Perhaps it was an act of rebellion, perhaps it was just a desperate plea to get the attention his mother no longer gave him from anyone who he could get it from. Either way, every single person he propositioned agreed passionately, and, slowly, Brontel came to realize a few things.

First, he was desirable. Clearly, everyone wanted him. He was well proportioned, despite what his mother said, and he had really nice hair and shining eyes. He was beautiful.

Secondly, he still cared what his mother thought. He couldn’t bear to let her even know he was talking to these strangers, much less taking them to bed.

And lastly, his father was right. He needed to grow up. Dwarves reach maturity at 50. Brontel decided he was mature at 40. He certainly looked like a proper adult, and no one would argue with him if he said he was.

When he was 43, he met Liren.

Liren was yet another stranger, yet another handsome face- full mountain dwarf, for once- but this time, he insisted on sneaking out with Brontel, taking him down to his apartment in the poorer side of town, which he shared with his younger brother.

The next morning, when Brontel stepped out of the bedroom to get breakfast, he came face to face with that brother.

It was love at first sight, he’d say later.

He was wearing a bonnet, his crooked, splotchy, pimpled face set in a scowl, wearing a baggy tunic and loose silk pants, his feet bare against the cold floor. When he saw Brontel, he paused, scowled deeper, and said, “You guys were loud.”

Brontel giggled- he couldn’t help it, he was head over heels, and everything he could have said would have been the most charming thing in the world.

Onim was two years older, he discovered, and him and Liren were from another city- Luurianrogh, around a hundred miles away. They’d moved here to be closer to their aging adventurer parents, and set up their own lives- Liren as a stone cutter, Onim as a jeweler.

Brontel kept visiting. Liren was kind, and took pity on the younger boy, letting him hang around their apartment all he wanted in a desperate attempt to stay closer to Onim.

Onim didn’t care about Brontel, it was pretty clear, and that was something that ate Brontel alive. He needed to be seen, be praised, be appreciated, and Onim didn’t do that for him. He would visit Onim’s little jewelry store to preen over the necklaces, putting them on and trying to get Onim to give him a compliment. It never worked.

And then one day, when he was 51, after nearly a decade of failing to win Onim over, he walked in on Onim laying on the floor of the living room, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey cutie, whatcha doin’ down there?” Brontel asked, curiously.

“I’m trying to decide something.”

“What?”

“If I’m going crazy.”

“Oh,” Brontel sat down on a chair, leaning over so his head was in Onim’s way. The man’s dark brown eyes landed on him, and he thought the pupils expanded ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “Well, lay it on me.”

“I think I’m in love with someone, but they’re the most irritating person I know, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Brontel squealed. “Oh! Oh my god, you’re in love?! Who is it, is it someone I know?”

“You could say that.”

“Is it a shop regular?”

“Yes.”

Brontel giggled, excitedly. As much as he loved Onim, he loved gossip ever so slightly more. “Oh my god, you should ask them out, duh!”

“I don’t know about that,” Onim said, rolling over and pushing himself up on his elbows, peering up at Brontel. “Like I said, they’re the worst person I know.”

“But you love them?”

“...Yeah, I guess I do.”

“So, walk up to them, kiss them dramatically, and announce your love.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“In that order?”

“Of course!” Brontel clapped. “That’s how it’s done.”

Onim hummed, before standing up. He towered over Brontel, now that he was standing, so Brontel stood too. For a second, they stared at each other, Brontel smiling, Onim scowling contemplatively.

“Well? What’re you waiting for?” Brontel nodded at the door. “Go get them.”

And then Onim surged forward, grabbed Brontel’s face, and pulled him into a kiss.

Onim still didn’t show Brontel quite the affection he craved, even while they dated, and it wasn’t until Brontel begged him for it that he asked why he wanted it so badly.

And that’s when Brontel told him about his youth, about being dressed up and paraded around, about his mother’s harsh punishments, about sneaking off with strangers. He even explained his conception, how it was an attempt for his mother to get his father’s attention. His whole purpose in this world was to be praised and loved and cherished, and if he didn’t have that, he had nothing.

Onim stared at him for a long time, a sad look in his eyes, and then he nodded. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Brontel never quite figured out what he’d meant by that. None of what had happened was anyone’s fault but Brontel’s. None of it happened to him, it just happened. Life happened. That was how it was. And it wasn't even all that bad, either, it's not like he was ever scared for his life, or even uncomfortable for more than a day.

At least Onim finally started paying attention to him. He’d pull him into his lap while they cuddled, and would compliment him and praise him for the little things.

And Brontel got worse.

Suddenly, not having Onim around felt like a suffocating emptiness, felt like he’d die without Onim’s hand in his. When he went home from Onim’s place, his house felt too big and too cold and too empty, not having praise at every second made him feel worthless.

So he introduced him to his parents.

His father seemed to like him, calling him a smart young man, and his mother was at least polite- at least up until Onim mentioned being an immigrant. Suddenly she was cold, distant, and when Onim left she grabbed Brontel by the hair and dragged him to his room.

“Never marry a wanderer,” She spat. “Or you’ll be just another thing they leave.”

A decade later, Brontel and Onim stood at an altar while her seat sat empty in the congregation.

Life with Onim was easier that anything Brontel could have imagined. He was smart and kind and courteous and took care of Brontel, and most importantly, he never had to fight for compliments or praise. It came as easily as breathing to the other man, he thought.

Before he met Onim, Brontel felt vain, felt that all his pride was undeserved. Now, though, he knew it was all correct. He was really as beautiful as Onim said, was really as smart and strong and wonderful.

They lived in an apartment over the tailor shop that Brontel worked in, and would eventually own, and every night, they'd hold each other and whisper plans for the future.

There were little bumps in the road, like when someone asked for Brontel’s pronouns and he froze like a deer in the headlights until Onim stepped in and told them. And he was right, of course, Brontel used he/him. So why was he disappointed to hear it? He never told Onim about this, and he never hesitated again.

There was an ever present emptiness, though, a sort of lingering question he didn't know the answer to.

And then The Revelation happened.

Another thing about Brontel was that every once in a while he’d have a conviction- something he believed with his whole heart to be true, only to years later look back and realize it was ridiculous. As a small child, he believed his neighbors would watch him change, no matter where he was or whether his curtains were drawn. As a young adult, he believed for a period that he was unkillable. After him and Onim got married, he didn’t really have one of these episodes for a while.

And then, one day, someone brought in a silk gown to his tailor shop.

It was beautiful, beautiful in a way nothing else he’d ever seen was beautiful.

Rion, the tiefling who brought it in, told him they’d gotten it from a trader who described a land of True Beauty.

And just like that, Brontel had a mission.

The Revelation was not a conviction. It was not a misguided belief in something made up. It was real.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought of going on adventures, it’s not like he hadn’t fantasized about traveling the world, but this was something else. He had to find True Beauty and bring it home.

Onim gave him all the jewelry he had, to sell on the road, and then, late one night, almost morning, Brontel left.

He traveled with Rion’s group, and then a group led by a man named Pavis, and then another, and then another. He learned to fight, learned to survive, and through it all, he wrote letters every single day, and kept his wedding ring on a chain around his neck.

He gained weight, his hair and beard got longer, he got a slight limp. It was hard to live without Onim's compliments, especially on the road where he couldn't get letters, but he made do with flirting with strangers until they fed him praise, and then he'd move on.

Adventure didn't fill the void, didn't fix things, but it helped distract him.

And then he met the last party, and something told him he was even closer to Beauty, he was almost there.

It was in Maya’s hair, so soft and long and shiny, and Sunny’s eyes, all fierce and kind and passionate, and Tearn’s stance, all proud and regal.

Even when he got scarred, and Tearn abandoned them, and Sunny’s little boytoy started to get irritating, Brontel could feel in the pit of his stomach that they were getting there, that they were figuring it out, that any second now, he’d find True Beauty.

When Maya was caught in the barn, for a second, he forgot about it. For a second, he didn't care about his own safety, about Beauty, about anything. All he wanted was to get her out.

At dinner that night, he kept glancing at her, as if expecting her to go transparent, like Saphra, or disappear altogether. She didn't. She was still there.

That was something he realized a bit late- he did really like Maya. She was new, nothing like any adventurer he'd come by before. Secretly, Brontel wished he was more like her, in ways he couldn't quite put his finger on.

And it's not that he didn't also like Sunny- he found the tiefling fascinating and wild, an exciting change from anything before, but Maya was different in some strange way.

(Brontel wasn't sure what it was until later. The word he was looking for was envy.)

That first night in the canyon, he had a dream- yet another one he’d never remember.

All he remembered was that in his dream, he was a woman, and she was with Onim and his party, all together, and True Beauty didn’t exist. And she was happy- happier than he’d ever been. And then he woke up.

For a moment, he stared at the sky, at the budding daylight, and then abruptly, he realized what the hole was. He realized what he'd been missing.

And she smiled.

#al's writing #brontel woldrock #the dating sim campaign

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novemberthecatadmirer · 1 year

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Personal Headcanon About Vanyar

My headcanon for Vanyar is they were the smallest group in Cuivienen not just because of their initial number being small but also because Morgoth was specifically targeting them

We know in canon Morgoth

Liked to steal shiny things

Had bad feelings around Turgon

Guess who was the only elf group that eventually fucked Morgoth up in Canon?

So Morgoth just had this BAD feeling seeing elves with blonde hair

And decided “okay I am going to kill them and make their babies into orcs”

—————

The blonde elves in Cuivienen kept going missing

Other elves went missing as well but not at the same rate; a lot of them were stay in company with elves with blonde hair

So quickly everyone just realized for some reason, those blonde ones have DANGER following their steps

Everyone started to avoid the blonde ones

They did made some natural hair dye and tried to cover their hair… It helped but never enough. (It’s not like Morgoth’s servants solely relied on visual sensation.)

Then people started to get attacked by these strange things in the forest, that looked like elves but OFF

And they had blonde hair

Okay that definitely made those blonde ones look extra suspicious. They’re already avoided by everyone else and who knew what they were doing out there in secret

(Morgoth was GOOD at causing distrust and splitting up people)

(Meanwhile many blonde elves were panicking “that thing eating elves in the forest looked like my lost brother/sister”)

—————

Minyar formed their community because their hair color made them a target and everyone was avoiding them due to safety concerns. They had to stick together to have a better chance at survival

It was extra-awful to live in Cuivienen as a Minyar

They had more developed social support system and often did everything in groups

Raised their children as a community, figured out adoption very early (too many children lost their parents & too many parents lost their children)

Had little social stigma against divorce & remarriage (you didn’t know when you’ll be taken by the things in the woods, life was short) (sometimes a spouse just disappeared and never return)

Vanyar elves in Valinor still had songs and tales about kin lost to the darkness in the wood

They had some heavy collective trauma about Cuivienen, and loved the place a lot less

(Also the reason that none of them got moved by Feanor’s speech about glory & wonder in the old land. Hard to be stirred up by those words when you grew up with parents still mourning their lost family.)

—————

Minyar were very suspicious of Orome. I suspect Morgoth fashioned his riders after Orome and his Maiar as a mockery. To elves, Orome just looked too much like those horrible things that took their children.

Ingwe was made king after his travel to Aman partially because of his brave act to risk himself to trust this thing specking of a blessed land.

Ingwe in Aman: OMG everything is so beautiful so peaceful I don't even want to go back I must bring everyone here

Also learning that the Valar beat up Morgoth and freed their captured kin helped a lot (He lost family members and had children he took care of missing)

(I always read Ingwe's "never returned or set eyes upon Middle-earth again" as a result of some extreme trauma. Like, something so bad happened that he did not even want to think about this place he used to live.)

—————

Minyar were the most eager to go to Aman because they never formed enough attachment to Cuivienen. It was not a homeland; it was just a place they dwelled, where they kept getting snatched up and lost in darkness one by one.

They were also, being the group that was targeted specifically by Morgoth, a lot more grateful to Ainur. These were the ones who warred against the horrible things for them. Then these strange beings further invited them to their home and shared the bless with them. They did not have to do either of those acts and they did it out of kindness anyway.

There was just more trust and good wills between Ainur and Vanyar.

After Morgoth's release they just really did not trust them because they remembered everything he did. And not all of their lost kin had yet been found. They had all the reason to not trust Morgoth and they held grudge.

Then the Trees happened

—————

I think the Darkening of Valinor was extra traumatic to Vanyar elves.

They knew all the horrible things happened to their kin in darkness. Some of them even experienced those stuff. They went to blessed land and thought they were safe, and started to slowly heal. Then suddenly the Light was gone.

And their first reaction was to gather all their children, find Ainur and stay with them, hoping to get some protection.

—————

We don't know what was happening back in Aman in first age.

My headcanon is after the Darkening of Valinor the Vanyar just started all these military training because they realized they could not always rely on the Ainur for protection. It was not in the "distrusting Valar" way, just in the "they are not all powerful and we should help them too" way.

And they were not the Noldor type that challenge Devil to suicidal one-on-one combat. They collaborated with each other and worked as a group. They were a lot more organized and they focused on surviving.

But it was not like they were not ANGRY! War of Wrath got its name for a reason.

—————

Anyway I just want "Morgoth having funny feelings around blonde elves, and decided to destroy them, but his action actually unionized them and gave them all the motivations to fuck him up in the end"

#tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silm #silmarillion headcanon #silm headcanon #morgoth #melkor #vanyar #valinor #ainur #ingwe

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palidoozy-art · 2 years

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Oh god, I could gush and gush about 2CGaming’s stuff all day. Again, my ONLY complaint about them is that their stuff is scaled a bit high, so there’s certainly an adjustment period where if you’re not careful you’ll absolutely destroy your party. But they actually give you straight-up guidelines telling you how to run an “easier” encounter and a “harder” encounter. They also provide some actual guidance in how to build and run encounters for higher level parties as well!

Y’know I’ll use this post to give a shoutout to some other third party stuff I use

For Encounters, or general high-level design:

2CGaming’s Total Party Kill Bestiary 1 and 2

Giffyglyph’s Monster Maker (free older version on his website; you can get the pdf to the updated version through his patreon)

Badooga’s Monster Guidelines - He breaks down a lot of the math with encounter design, and was definitely a good starting point for me to understand how fights can be built. I also use a combination of this spreadsheet someone made as well as standard DMG xp calculations for building encounters.

Kobold Press’ Tome of Beasts (1 and 2), as well as their Creature Codex.

This monster stat cheat sheet tweaked from the DMG.

For player options

Pretty much anything KibblesTasty makes. His warlord class is SO GOOD. I use his crafting a lot as well, as a way of giving random encounters some kind of reward rather than just be time sinks.

The Warrior’s Codex - Martial enhancement, adds some cool baseline effects to weapons to make them all unique rather than just “i deal more damage.”

The Adventurer’s Domestic Handbook - because yes, if my players want to settle down and have kids I will allow them to, dammit.

Adjustments to baseline D&D economy rules - because yes my players bought a brothel and another one of my players wanted to run like 3 shops. If you don’t want to read through the blog, I’ve got the adjustments written down here:

(note: I just stretch out the total cost per day to total cost per month. Easier that way).

An Elf and an Orc had a Little Baby - OneD&D basically incorporated the upbringing part of this into the game (thank god), but we still sometimes refer to this book and its sequel to figure out what the players’ kids will be like (Kelogul’s daughter is quarter aasimar, quarter orc, half elf, for instance).

There’s probably a LOT more stuff, but this is all stuff I use routinely, in terms of 3rd party stuff.

In terms of actual alternate rules/homebrew we also use:

- Gritty Realism (not only does it fix 5e’s absolutely fucked encounters-per-day problem, as well as the short rest conundrum, but it ALSO stretches the time of the campaign out and makes the world feel significantly more lived in. It also essentially obligates downtime so players craft a lot more. Combine it with the fantasy calendar website to keep track of time in your campaign!)

- Spell Points (imo I would not use this outside of gritty realism. It definitely strengthens spellcasters, who do not need to be strengthened. However, because gritty realism is a significant ‘nerf’ to spellcasters in general, spell points helps offset it a bit. Also my players fucking love it. One of my players refuses to go back to vancian casting).

- Homebrew rule: when a player is downed and then healed and brought back up, they gain 1 level of exhaustion. This is to counteract the crazy health yoyo that is pretty endemic to the game. There’s an actual reason to not just let your party members fall so you can just bonus action healing word them now.

- Homebrew rule: when a caster casts cure wounds/mass cure wounds, or a person drinks a potion, the beneficiary may also choose to use 1 of their HD per spell level of the cure used to heal in addition. Potions allow one to use 1 HD per dice it cures.

- fun random additional note: our table has a ‘gentleman’s agreement’ to not use counterspell, because all our spellcasters got together one day with me and went ‘we hate playing with counterspell’ and i went ‘yeah i agree’ and so we stopped. We have an armistice lol.

#palidoozy rambles #d&d #long post

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chzdavmpr · 3 months

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Delicious in Dungeon Reading Diary thing Volume 2

Spoilers, obviously

I think it's really smart to have Senshi basically be the handy man of the dungeon, the one keeping things running behind the scenes.

It's also really cool and smart how naturally Ryoko Kui managed to create a realistic feeling ecosystem. Like you read a panel like this

And just go "yeah that makes sense. It's like removing wolves from a national park causing the whole ecosystem to enter a death spiral." It's similar, but still feels unique to the dungeon setting. I think it's a sign of strong worldbuilding.

Senshi selling crops and telling people to leave the payment is chests is a really funny explanation for respawning dungeon loot.

She looks so sad. It's ok Marcelle. I think the cabbage is cool.

Is this guy 4 year old? Why is he THIS anti-vegetable?

Kobolds are PUPPIES?!!!

Senshi got that grindset

I just think it's funny how each ingredient lists it as stolen. As if in order to properly make the recipe you have to steal the ingredients

Just 2 floors to go! That's honestly a lot less then I would've guessed, at the current pace they will be back to the dragon by the 4th volume. It makes me very excited to see where the story goes.

Closing thought on chapter 9 since a lot happened: I think the bits of orc history we get is fascinating. It's left kinds unclear who started the conflict with them. Like they DO steal from others pretty regularly, but they do so only so that they can survive, and were basically banished underground. It makes them both more interesting and way less problematic then just a "naturally evil race," but they still feel like orcs instead of throwing out all the tropes that made them unique in classic fantasy fiction. Also very glad that unlike other chapters that are just named after the food they eat, the chapter called "orcs" does not have them eating orcs.

Ooh. Another puppy! I wonder if they are a kobold, or some other dog-person species? Oh also I've seen art of that person on the right. I think they join the party at some point or something.

Oh. They're dead. So at the very least they won't be important yet.

Ah man. When I saw ghosts on the back cover I was excited to see how they would eat ghosts. Which I guess the sorbet had a bit of ghost in it maybe. But I guess that actual magic stuffs are still separate from the food chain.

Poor guy. The "accidentally use really poor phrasing that makes you sound like a jerk" struggle is real

Mario 64 joke

The paintings were a very interesting way of giving a few drips of lore. It gives just enough make you interested. Also I'm gonna call it now: that elf that noticed Laios is the evil wizard who buried the city.

I wonder if the paintings kinda act as a time portal. Since the efl recognised Laios that means that the paintings have connected consciousness and continuity, which one way that could work is if the painting continuity was the real continuity. If they're not time portals though, I wonder what would happen if you did something with major consequences. Like if Laios killed the baby prince what would happen to the paintings of the prince's wedding day and coronation?

These things are a one-off thing and unless that elf is met and recognizes Laios none of these questions will be answered, will they?

Anyways, 2 chapters later Marcelle is confirmed as a horse girl.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME RYOKO KUI!

Senshi trusted Anne. Thought of her as a friend. To have her betray him, forcing him to kill her for his own survival. This is heartbreaking.

Senshi with his beard washed, and subsequently poofy after it dries is really funny, but tumblr only allows 10 images per post on the app, so you'll have to read the manga or watch the anime yourself to see it. There's actually been quite a few funny panels I wanted to share but couldn't.

Polygamous orcs. Good for them.

Laios just... draws a little stick figure of himself onto a living painting in the bonus chapter. And it seems to be a copy of his consciousness at the time of drawing. And then they just... leave it there. That's pretty messed up. The entire time this manga goes on I'm gonna just know in the back of my head that a copy of Laios is trapped in a single room forever. This also raised SO MANY MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT LIVING PAINTINGS and I'm now even more convinced that I won't get answers.

For some closing thoughts on the volume: I thought it was really good. Now that they've established the premise and basic character dynamics it felt like they gave me a lot more to chew on. There's now a countdown to the goal that makes it feels very within reach. There was bits of lore about both orcs and the dungeon that leave me wondering more. And the art and character writing is still just as good as volume 1. I look forward to reading volume 3. Ps: I only realised after typing all of this that her name is spelled "Marcille." I'm not combing through this post to fix it.

#manga #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #reading diary #chz reads

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