#day172021

[taricdarkmorn]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 17 - Spellbinding

Weekday mornings had a tendency to be quiet around Booty Bay, aside from the occasional ship docking or departure for the day. It made sense, the Bay was what most would consider a ‘night town’: That’s when all the rowdy locals and visitors would head to the bars, clubs, gambling halls, or brothels for a night full of shenanigans. During the day it almost felt like a completely different place.

Today in particular was an unusually quiet one, and Taric found himself slouched behind his alchemy shop’s counter, leaning lazily against both elbows. The distant sounds of the sea and the faint hum of his fan lulled him into a light sleep every now and then, although he quickly jolted awake when his elbows started to slip. He could be restocking, or making up some potions he was low on, but sometimes you just wanted to sit and do absolutely nothing. Even Pickles, the shop’s cockatiel, was low on energy and quietly chilling on his favorite perch that sat atop the counter. They were quite the exciting duo, these two.

Taric perked a brow when the dock bell rang, sitting up straighter to see a new ship pulling into port. It was definitely a passenger vessel, which appeared to be carrying a good number of bodies. Excellent, customers. He looked over to Pickles who was excitedly hopping in place and ready for his cue. “Go sing for them, Pickles.” As annoying as that bird could be with his jumpscare squawking and terrible jokes, he could whistle a spellbinding tune. But that was by design. 

The bird took off through the open window and began his song; one that Taric’s mother had often sung herself while working in the shop. The melody was carried by the sea breeze, resonating throughout the entire bay and it immediately caught the attention of a handful of the newcomers stepping off the boat. From his front door, Taric could see the delighted smiles as they obediently followed enchanting tune. 

Pickles continued his lullaby even after landing on his perch just inside the window of The Red Rook, and the people followed. Taric gave the bird a little scritch on his cheek with a promise of treats in the near future, but right now he had a plethora of new customers to greet.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[rhysgoodwin]

Day 17 - Disappointment @daily-writing-challenge​

Rhys reached a hand up towards the sunny, blue sky to shield his eyes from the bright glare, adjusting his position until one of the sunflowers hovering above did the job for him. This had become his favorite place in all of Azeroth, laying in the dirt among the field of flowers as they created a canopy of green and yellow above him. It was peaceful, no one bothered him aside from a stray animal every now and then, but their company was always welcomed. 

He decided that if he were to ever build a house, he would have his own field of sunflowers instead of having to sneak into one of the neighboring farms. Not that they seemed to mind his presence when they did catch him, the owner’s wife doted on him often and would even let him cut his own bouquet to display in his room.

It was a simple existence he lived, and he had finally grown to enjoy his life - for the most part. For so long he had spent always wishing he had more. Growing up in an orphanage wasn’t easy for anyone, but especially for those children that were never adopted.  It was all he ever knew, and while the matron was a warm, loving woman, he felt as if he had missed out on so much in life. He could recall sitting at the window for hours and watching the rest of the children run about Stormwind in their fancy clothes, with their fancy toys, and with parents that looked at them like they were the most precious things in the world. No one ever looked at him like that.

He had so badly craved that life, it was difficult not to let the constant disappointment get to him: A disappointment to parents looking to adopt, a disappointment at school, but mostly a disappointment to himself. The matron did her best to assure him otherwise, but she was a busy woman and their talks were few and far between.  For as rough as he had it before, things were pretty good now. Not perfect, but good. He had a job he enjoyed, a roof over his head, food to eat, and some spending money. And, of course, this field of giant sunflowers.

“Rhyyyyyys!”

He stood up with a grunt as his name echoed through the fields, looking towards the dividing fence to see the woman he worked for waving something in the air. So much for being left alone. Then it dawned on him what it was in her hand: A letter. He had been expecting a letter for about a week now, although he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to open it. 

Trudging towards the fence, he smiled as he took the mail. “...Thank you, Mrs. Padley.”

“Ohhh honey, you gotta start just callin’ me Eve.” She cupped a hand to his cheek, lingering for maybe a little too long, before giving it an affectionate pat and turning away to leave. “Dinner’s in an hour!”

Rhys retreated back into the safety of the field, sitting cross-legged as he stared at the letter addressed from his secondary school. Back in the orphanage while he was still attending school, he had failed his final exams and never actually graduated. After that, he turned 18 and decided that it wasn’t worth it to keep trying and just dropped out. School had always been difficult for him. He wasn’t a fast learner unless it was hands-on, and his reading comprehension was worse than mediocre. No one really had the time to help him, nor did the orphanage have the funds to get him a proper tutor; it had always been a constant struggle.

Fast forward five or so years later and he thought that maybe now if he studied real hard, he could finally pass those exams and get his secondary school diploma. He had learned some tricks to help with his reading over the years, but the exam had still been difficult and the time felt as if it had zoomed by.

But just maybe….

He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the folded letter, reading the first few words, ‘We regret to inform you…’ He sighed and crumpled it up, shoving it into the depths of his pocket before laying back down in the middle of the sunflowers. Disappointment, yet again. At least he still had sunflowers.

[kharrisdawndancer]

Jaskian had never lived with anyone but herself or her parents, before she and Luminash moved to Suramar. It had been an adjustment. They hadn’t been married yet and she had been a little nervous about how it would go. They both had strong minds about what they liked and didn’t, and melding their tastes was going to take compromise. They didn’t usually fight, but if it was going to happen this might have been it. In the end they had picked a lovely home, even if everything was a bit too tall in scale for a pair of blood elves, and they’d filled it carefully. They’d picked out everything together and she appreciated how involved he’d been in the process--he’d wanted it to be their home shared as much as she had. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Many of their neighbors agreed with Jaskian: the rooftop garden was the most spellbinding area of all . Literally and figuratively. Lingering under silvery light of the night skies, or basking under the golden sun, it hardly mattered at the central fountain: arcane glittered through waters that were perfectly chilled to cool and misted to cast diaphanous rainbows all across the central seating area. Gauzy enchanted canopies hung over a graceful pergola and retractable side panels gave them a space for lounging. Butterflies naturally flocked to the flowers, and birds to the bowers. Jaskian had even carefully brought in Thalassian trees to sculpt and grow in the tradition of Quel’thalas. Music was called from an elegantly spelled tome at the whisper of a command word. Herbs grew for their cooking and reagents for spells. She’d hung crystals and gems she’d cut and prisms were placed precisely to splash colors in a day’s march down the small path.

Jaskian lay her head on Luminash’s chest and appreciated the quiet afternoon together. It was perfect. Books and the last samples from this years’ Brewfest. No. She held no disappointment here.

@daily-writing-challenge

Day 17 Spellbinding/Disappointed

@luminashdawnwing

[tormaaz]

DWC Day 17: A spellbindingly Alternate Universe of Disappointment.

Challenge: Smut!

The weeks that followed the unholy union of Tormaaz the Gargantuan and Sana’dal had been non stop celebrations of all demon kind.

Slaves from other conquered worlds were brought in to perform day and night. Exotic dances, songs, and other performance arts were made spectacle in front of all of Tormaaz’s and Sana’s subordinates.

The weeks that followed weren’t just partying, however. Tormaaz had the greatest of fel sorceresses and scientists involved in turning Sana into the perfect mate. She had been spellbound and mutated to be nearly beyond recognition. Aside from her face -which remained largely unchanged- the once elf was now built much more like Tormaaz. Her upper body had grown thick and scaly, while her lower had been extended to mirror the crocodilian centaur like shape her new husband. The transformation was finally complete, and now they could consummate their marriage... properly.

Amidst a rocky plateau that had been decorated with the corpses and skulls of conquered heroes, Tormaaz and Sana’demon laid together on a plushy bed that spanned the length of a full footbomb field. Tormaaz stripped his demonic armour and tossed it aside, lumbering towards his waiting -and likely still begrudging- wife.

“Now, I shall show you why they call me Tormaaz the gargantuan,” he warned with a toothy grin. The stench of fel an sulfur filling the field as he laughed.

“Come then, Lord Tormaaz,” Sana’demon invited. More of a challenge than anything.

Rearing back, Tormaaz mounted his demon wife. Large, crocodilian phallus popping out and poking against her cloaca. With a great thrust! he was inside.

...

and then he was done. Finished. Ejaculate from a single pump.

“How was that, Wife?!” he asked with all the confidence of a mega chad.

“What... the FUCK was that?!” she spat back!

“ALL THAT BUILD UP FOR ONE THRUST? TORMAAZ THE GARGANTUAN? MORE LIKE TORMAAZ THE DISAPPOINTMENT!” she scolded. Even if she was reluctant to be a demon. Sana had at least come to terms that she’d get the luxury of ruling. But now part of her eternal life was incredibly disappointing sex? Fuck no.

The rest of the night continued much like that. Sana’demon yelling and scolding Tormaaz while he tried to stand proud after being so thoroughly demasculated by his own bride. Her voice so thunderous that surely everyone within a ten kilometer radius would hear as well.

@daily-writing-challenge @twosidedsana

[darbiebot]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 17: Disappointment- Pinapple

Everything was perfect. She had gathered up fresh ingredients for rhubarb tarts, a recipe she'd actually gleaned from his own notes, trying to replicate one of his mother's recipes. Her two trial batches went well, and she was pretty sure the test farm she'd pay to grow it was going to keep it in the rotation. She'd gotten the lighting just right, candles leading over to the kitchen, a nice romantic dinner all set up.

It wasn't anything crazy, but she'd gotten some chicken marinated and a flatbread to act as the vessel for it, as well as some greens and fried rice.

Music was a nice chill beat she'd picked up the record for up in Dalaran, and it was chilly enough for some fresh apple cider. To top it all off, she'd went the full mile, a fully trail of rose petals up to the room, with all the gear they'd need already set up on the bed, along with some lingerie she'd been saving.

Then the comm flared.

"Hey Pin! Got a pretty big order coming in for a last minute event, probably gonna be delayed getting home! Dont wait up for me!"

"Aww fuck..." she groaned.

@daily-writing-challenge

[indy-et-al]

Day 17: Disappointment (Indraste)

(Find information on the Daily Writing Challenge here) @daily-writing-challenge

Warnings: light sexuality

Summary: Indy has a rude awakening from a lovely dream.

Indraste was dreaming. Part of her was aware that it was a dream, but not enough for her to wake from it. Blix was there, after all, and any place Blix was was somewhere Indy wanted to be. Gorgeous bone structure, muscular, strong body. That hair. And those were the least of her positive traits, even though they were the most apparent on easy glance. So when given the option to lean into the dream, or wake from it and face reality, well. Was there really a choice?

She sank down further into sleep, letting the dream take over. The sound of Blix sighing as her fingers ran along her skin was more than enough incentive to fall back into the moment. The feel of her skin under Indy’s tongue? Enough to lose herself completely in the moment. Night, she loved Blix’s skin, whether they were pressed together, drifting quietly in the late night, or when her nails were running along it, leaving faint red marks on her fair skin. The sounds she made when that happened were better than listening to the world waking up during a sunrise.

Indy let her tongue roam, flicking along scars, as her fingers twined with Blix’s, pressing her back against the bed and dwarfing her. Sometimes, it was good to be big, and this was one of those moments. A nip to the neck, and a deep inhale in an attempt to suffuse herself with the soothing smell of her lover.

“Wait. What’s that?” Blix said.

She sniffed again, and was roughly jolted from sleep, eyes going wide as the smell of freshly-scrubbed death hit her like a blow.

Twist was sitting next to her in the bed, staring out the window, hands neatly folded against his middle. He noticed her rouse, and said, “Good morning.”

….Of all the fucking people to wake up to after a dream like that. Indy growled, and then attempted to make herself awake enough to deal with whatever he wanted today.

[rosecrownreserve]

DWC, Day 17 - Spellbinding, Disappointment

Returning home after so many years away nearly didn't feel like returning home at all. Leo'mar had visited a few times but never stayed more than a night, and never ventured to Silvermoon for anything more than reporting in for briefings on his next assignments.

After the death of his father he had returned only a single time to ensure the man's name had been etched into the gravestone next to his mother's. Leo had offered the few remaining people that worked for his father a chance to stay, to continue being paid and to live there if they wished. In the end, none chose to remain.

The disappointment was no doubt felt on both sides.  For them, the passing of his father may as well have been the end for the family after decades of Leo being focused entirely on his duties away from home. It was likewise clear that his father's death wasn't about to put an end to all of his time away.

Indeed, with his father's death and everyone leaving, Leo's visits stopped altogether. It wasn't until after the end of the Fourth War when the sky split and opened the way to the Shadowlands that Leo finally came home. As spellbinding as the lands of death could be, or at least the mysteries thereof, he wasn't a warrior.

Magic ran deep throughout the family estate, keeping the house clean and from falling into disrepair. The most work Leo had to deal with was tending to the mass of overgrown plants that covered majority of the property. By comparison, organizing and familiarizing himself with with his home was easy.

While taking stock of all the alchemical ingredients that had been safely stored away, Leo had stumbled upon the family recipes book. Or as it turned out, the family recipe books. There were more than he had ever realized, meticulously organized into specific categories and all indexed for easy searching.

Leo hadn't spent as much of his youth learning alchemy as his mother had wished, it just hadn't come to him as naturally as tending to the plants. Yet now he sat alone and read through the different potions and elixirs his family had once worked hard at.

It was time he gave it another go, for her sake.

@daily-writing-challenge

[ainsley-f]

Spellbinding / Disappointment

Day 17, DWC 2021

Ainsley had long gotten used to the look of disappointment. It was always a look of frustration mixed with a hint of pity. She had seen it far too many times—acquaintances, teachers, mentors…her mother.

She had also gotten used to ignoring it, challenging it back with a few blinks of indifference or her usual defiant glare. Disappointment only arose from expectations, and expectations almost always led to disappointment. It was an endless cycle, and if that cycle was inevitably meant to repeat itself she figured she might as well learn to live with its constant presence.

It evolved, though. Disappointment in her shortcomings turned to disappointment in her bad choices…which led to disappointment in a lot of her choices, many of which she believed were correct.

There was simply no way to please everybody. It bothered her for only a moment. What did everyone expect of her anyway? The world was wrought with disappointment, but there she was, being looked at again like she was the failure.

Learn to live with it she did. Ainsley knew, without a shadow of doubt, that she was a good person. She did good work. She had trained for years and years to be where she was today, and she genuinely tried to be a beacon of light and hope in this irreparably dark world. She held on to those values and traits with an iron fist, wielding it like armor.

No, she was not the disappointment.

She was the victor.

@daily-writing-challenge​