#Beau just prefers staying on the farm

[snowy-bones]

Beau is rather fond of the farm life. He doesn’t regret keeping the farm, it’s his pride and joy. But with the city off in the distance, it’s often a reminder of what pulled his family apart to begin with. For this reason, Beau normally avoids the city. But he does stop and “take a gander” at it from time to time.

[lemontwst]

Nessun Dorma | 01 - f!ver.

he says i am sorry i am not an easy person to want i look at him surprised who said i wanted easy i don’t crave easy i crave goddamn difficult

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: harem x f!reader.  |  male version here.

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: cyoa + smut.

⟶ index  |  prologue.

__

You can’t say no to him.

You don't think you'd ever be able to deny Mira anything, really. Not when he looks at you like a kicked puppy… a tall, imposing kicked puppy with weird horns on his head who could probably cremate you alive without breaking a sweat.

"Of course I would stay with you! Do you even have to ask?" You reach out to touch his face. His skin always feels so cold under your fingers, but the fire in his eyes burns brighter than ever, as if the intensity of his flames depends solely on the intensity of your affection for him.

"I love you, Mira."

Your heart flutters at your own words and for a second you don't even know if you mean that as a friend or as a lover. But, well, you're only sixteen years old. You have a lifetime to figure it out.

You think Mira stops breathing, but it's hard to tell because the rise and fall of his chest is usually pretty much imperceptible anyway.

“I… I love you too.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry. One of his hands rests against your chest. It’s an innocent touch. He’s just feeling your heartbeat under his palm, tiny and steady like that of a little bird, “I will always, always love you. Even if one day you grow to hate me. Even if you forget about me. Even should you fall in love with somebody else…”

You suddenly feel very tired.

His gentle voice is like a lullaby in this field of roses. His words leave you dazed, like he’s casting a spell on you.

“I love you, (y/n).”

The last thing you hear is Mira wishing you a happy birthday before you fall into a warm, comfortable sleep without dreams.

___

A sharp pain in your chest jerks you awake.

It fucking hurts, like your heart is being pierced by a shard of glass. Like the fissures of your very existence are being pulled apart at the seams.

You clutch the spot above your heart, almost elbowing Epel in the face with all your trashing, trying to catch your breath.

"(y/n)! What the hell...?" Your friend rolls away from you, finally letting go of the octopus hold he had on you all night. He's all disheveled as he gives you a weak glare, falling back into the makeshift bed you two share with a groan.

It's not even a bed, really. Just a pile of cotton blankets messily thrown under the skylight of an unused barn. This is your little hiding place, and despite you two having perfectly comfortable beds in the main house with Grandma and Grandpa, you prefer to spend your summer nights sleeping in this very loft, where it's cool and open and comfortable. 

"Sorry! I… had a nightmare… I think.” 

Your friend is used to it by now, “Do you remember what it was about?”

"No… not really."

"Nothing at all?

"No, just…"

"Green eyes." Epel finishes the sentence for you. You've been having the same nightmare for a while, and your friend knows all about it, considering he sleeps right next to you most of the time.

Green eyes. Burning emerald. It's all you remember, alongside a gut wrenching, heart shattering feeling of longing that stays with you long after you've woken up.

"... Hey, you okay?" You must have looked as miserable as you feel, because Epel leans closer to you, peering into your face with worry in his eyes.

"Yeah… it's just a stupid dream." You shrug, leaning your head against his shoulder, "But you know what would make me feel better?" 

Epel shrugs, but the way his brow crinkles tells you he's already prepared himself for whatever dumb thing you're about to say.

He knows you too well.

"I'd feel sooo much better if I had an additional piece of toast for breakfast today…" you sigh dreamily and Epel sighs.

"Fine." He shrugs you off and stands up. When he stretches, a peek of white skin flashes under his light blue shirt.

"What, really?" Your eyebrows shoot up. It's not usually this easy to get him to hand over his morning toast.

"Yeah," Epel walks the length of the loft and starts going down the ladder to the ground level of the barn. Before his head completely disappears under the edge of the loft, he throws you an arrogant smirk, "I wouldn't want the deafenin' roars of your stomach wakin’ up every wolf 'n boar in the area."

You're rushing after him immediately.

He can’t claim the bread if he’s dead.

___

You live a simple, happy life here in the Village of Harvest.

Your journey might not have had the best start—your parents left you on a doorstep in a basket when you were a small baby, but Epel's grandparents took you in and cared for you like you were theirs, and you grew up surrounded by love in a small farming community.

Sure, your days might not be terribly exciting. You don't have things like a mall, or a cinema or… anything built after the seventeenth century, really, but you have Epel and your grandparents and that's enough.

Oh, and you have Beau.

The little lamb trots towards you as soon as you're out of the house, your belly full with toast and Grandma's delicious apple jam, and starts nibbling at your socks immediately. 

Beau is minuscule. The tiniest lamb you've ever seen, always struggling to follow behind you on unsteady legs like you're his mother. Epel says it's because he feels a kinship with a fellow pipsqueak. You're always quick to point out that Epel is not that much taller than you anyway.

"Good morning, sweetie." You pick up Beau in a swift movement and hold him to your chest with one arm, carrying a wicker basket in the other, "Ready to pick some apples?"

Beau starts nibbling on your hair in response. This little guy… he's always munching.

"Just make sure he doesn't actually eat the apples." Epel starts walking in front of you, throwing Beau an unimpressed look.

You can't be sure but you feel like Beau is glaring back at him.

Sigh. Children.

___

You're always dead tired when you finally reach your bed. Farm life is fun and rewarding, but it’s also incredibly exhausting. That coupled with the fact that you haven’t been getting much sleep lately means that you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow, barely having the strength to say goodnight to Epel before you’re spiraling into a deep sleep.

…

…

You know you should be surprised to see him, but you never are. You can always feel him creeping around the outer edges of your dreamscape, but it doesn’t bother you. You invite him in every time, even if you forget all about it when you wake up, almost like you know instinctively that he won’t hurt you. Almost like you know him.

The man in your dreams is gorgeous, the kind of beauty that makes you want to learn sculpting so you can attempt to immortalize it. His skin is paler than marble, free of scars or blemishes. His ebony hair looks silky, a stream of ink that frames his handsome face and falls past his shoulders. He is tall, the tallest person you’ve ever seen, and the evil-looking horns on his head make him look ever more imposing. 

But what you find most striking about him are his eyes. Emerald gems with flames inside them. It’s the only detail of his that you remember when you wake up, the rest of him a cloud of black smoke when you attempt to picture him outside of your dreams. 

“Good evening, Deerlet.” His voice has the texture of silk and when he speaks, it feels like the ground shakes beneath your feet. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you, I wonder?” He closes in on you with slow, purposeful steps, elegant as a cat even as he leans forward slightly, like he wants to keep you in place by towering over you. His expression is curious and serene. You have a feeling he always looks at you like this.

“Why are you here?” You take a few steps back, not because you’re scared of him, but because you're scared of how badly you suddenly want to reach out and touch him. Your bare feet step on something soft, like flowers, and suddenly the dull landscape around you shifts into a view that feels strangely familiar to you. An open meadow and a purple sky above you. An endless sea of black roses around you.

“Your eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.” He closes the distance again, as attracted to you as you are to him. You’re like two ends of a magnet, when one pulls back the other follows. “I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.” The small, arrogant smile on his face sends a flurry of tingles down your spine.

“In any case, I won’t be able to celebrate with you tomorrow.” 

You feel like you already know where this is going.

“So I’ve brought you your gift today,” He reaches out to touch your elbows, languidly pulling you closer to him in a half-embrace that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s too much empty space between the two of you. His fingers linger over your skin, barely touching you. 

“Do you want to know what it is?” He whispers against your ear. One of his hands gently cradles your face. His lips brush against your temple and you shiver, completely paralyzed on the spot, “It’s my love, of course.”

Not granting you the chance to run away, the man picks you up like you weigh nothing, then gently lowers you over the roses.

"I don't… I don't even know you." You meekly push at his chest, turning your head away. It's like trying to move a mountain, and the hardness under your hands makes you blush something fierce.

He chuckles above you, but he's not amused. It's a pained, bitter sound, like you just reached inside his ribcage and crushed his heart in your hand. His ebony hair tickles your skin when he leans down to press kisses against your jaw, "Oh, you do know me, beloved. You are the other end of my soul, as I am yours."

His adoring voice, barely a whisper against your skin, leaves you dazed and gasping for air. Your legs open almost instinctively for him, your thighs wet with excitement. A clawed hand makes his way from your shoulder to your side, slowing down when it passes over your breast as if he's indulging in the forbidden fruit. His fingers reach your inner thigh and he runs a slow circle against the wet, trembling flesh, eager to soak in your juices. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he brings his hand to his mouth. A forked tongue peaks between his lips, slowly running over one of his lucid fingers. It brings back a memory of that time you dropped jam on your forearm, and that same forked tongue cheekily swept it away. The vision is so clear it leaves the hint of a name in your dry mouth.

"Mi… ra?" 

His eyes dart to yours and you think they're actually burning. Emerald flickers to life. His snake pupils shrink. He makes a show of slowly running his thumb down his tongue, leaving a trail of milky fluid behind. Your stomach clenches with need, your entire body lighting up like he just poured gasoline on you and burned it with a match.

"Is… is that your name?" You manage to gasp the words out, suppressing a shiver when he hums low in his throat. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to just give in already. To stop asking questions and wrap your arms around him instead, letting him use your body until he's satisfied. The urge to make him happy is almost primal in you, cauterizing your synapses. The need for him almost tears you apart.

"It's what you call me." It's a habit of his to sound both sad and adoring, you realize. You open your mouth to scold him for being so cryptic, but snap it shut when his hands rest on your chest. He palms the soft flesh gently, a small smirk on his arrogant face, "My precious Deerlet. Always so insatiably curious."

His thumbs slowly circle your hard nipples. Little jolts of electricity run down your spine, your chest growing sensitive under his ministrations. It's agonizingly slow. The sweet way he rubs you through the cloth of your dress makes you quiver with need, your voice coming out in short little gasps that make his eyes darken to a dangerous jade.

You lay your hand on top of his. You can feel his hard veins move under your palm as he gropes you, and the sensation sends another wave of slick down your thighs. Shaking like a frightened animal, you slowly move his hand to the side and slide it under your dress. A gasp leaves you when his fingers touch your bare skin. Mira exhales a long, pained sigh through his nose, then allows his digits to explore the expanse of your flesh. His fingertips tingle and his muscles tighten almost violently as the impulse to fuck you threatens to overtake him.

"Patience, daelin." He teases you, his deep voice a heated, playful murmur. Your pussy clenches in response. A small, frustrated whine leaves your lips. 

"I'm going to savor every moment of this." He takes his hand away and your heart almost breaks, but the pain is soon replaced by scalding embarrassment when he rips the front of your dress apart, easily, like it's tissue paper.

Nothing could have prepared you for the thunder that rattles the landscape of your psyche when his forked tongue makes contact with your perky nipple. Your hands find his broad shoulders and you hang on for dear life as he licks, nibbles and sucks like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His mouth is devastatingly gentle and you weakly beg for more. Mira smirks and ignores you, dragging out his tender torture for as long as he can, even as you desperately grind your drenched core against him.

"Mira!" You're sobbing at this point. Your body is on fire and your core hurts from clenching without something to hold your walls apart, "Please—" He moves to your other nipple and you arch for him, making a pretty line with your back. Mira takes this chance to slip a hand under you, keeping your chest raised to his mouth so that your head falls back, away from the dangerous tips of his horns. But he still doesn't touch you where you want him.

Suddenly, another memory comes to mind, as if summoned by your sexual frustration. You remember something that makes him shiver without fail, and suddenly you feel like you've regained some sort of power over this arrogant man. You bring a hand to his horn and tug and the loud, startled moan that leaves him is enough to satisfy the hunger in your stomach, slick pooling under you like dew against the roses. 

"... You little brat." Mira pulls away, struggling to catch his breath. His eyes are full of mischief as he looks down at you, the smirk ever present on his handsome face, "Is this how you treat your King?"

You try not to look too offended that he stopped touching you, giving him a defiant look that makes his smirk grow wider, "It is when the King is mean to his Queen."

His expression falls and he suddenly looks flustered. It seems like he enjoys hearing that you belong to him quite a bit. Mira quickly composes himself, the fire in his eyes now dim and subtle like a dangerous warning. 

You yelp when he grabs the back of your knees and pushes your legs against your body in a quick, rough movement, leaving you spread open and helpless under his watchful gaze.

"This is far from me being mean." He growls at you, allowing his instincts to take over for just a second, "So I advise you don't do that again." The stern look on his face makes his presence feel even more oppressing than usual.

It's like he's speaking the words directly into your ears. His voice bounces off the walls in your head, heated and demanding as a spark of his magic runs over your sensitive skin. It's a tingly feeling that makes your heart stutter, more intimate than anything you've ever felt. He shares just a fraction of his arousal with you through the link between your touching powers and suddenly you're crying and convulsing on top of the flowers, the heat between your legs akin to flowing magma.

The world around you loses focus. There's no more questions, no more doubts, you don't need to know anything about him, you just want him to touch you while you moan and gasp and whimper his name. It feels like you're on the verge of shattering and when Mira caresses you with his magic one more time, your stomach squeezes and releases, the dam in your abdomen breaks and blinding white flashes in front of your vision. You're left boneless and dazed and shivering, the shock from climaxing so hard and so abruptly leaving you speechless as you gasp and try to catch your breath.

...Holy shit. You catch his eyes and notice the subtle way he’s panting, sweat coating his forehead as he stares at every twitch of your body with intense rapture. Mira looks almost famished, desperation written all over his face. He looks like he’s in pain.

"I'm trying to be gentle, daelin." He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to keep the pieces of his disintegrating self-control together. Your scent is everywhere. The light spice in the air threatens to render Malleus insane and he has to momentarily block you out to keep himself from turning into his half-draconic form.

No no no, he can't do that to you. Not now. Not during your first time. He wants to cherish and protect you. He won't let his feral instincts get in the way of this precious moment…

"...I know."

Malleus opens his eyes. A small, tired smile greets him. Your face is sweaty and flushed, like that one time he took you deep into the woods.

"I trust you, Mira."

Love washes over him like high tide across a deserted shore, filling every crack on his eroded heart, replacing the pitch-black ink that constantly threatens to swallow him.

You trust him. Of course you do. You love him. You are his and he is yours. Forever, like you promised him.

"... I'll make you feel good." He sounds oddly resolute as he looks at you, his pupils large on a background of gentle flames. He kind of looks like a happy cat and you can't help but giggle. He's still as awkwardly sweet as the scrawny boy in your memories.

"You already did."

He snorts, "I'll make you feel better."

You let out a surprised gasp when he lowers his face right between your legs. You hear him take a deep breath and then he's exhaling right against your wet pussy. Your legs tremble in response and Mira chuckles. You don't need to look at him to know he's smiling that closed-eye smile you like so much.

Your excitement flares back to life as his tongue traces the line of your entrance. The split in his tongue feels… weird, but it's also strangely erotic, and you can't help but moan shamelessly as he teases your slit. Then he runs his tongue up until it finds your clit and suddenly you can't bear to look at him anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as little earthquakes shake you from head to toe, your hips going numb as he draws slow semi-circles around the sensitive nub.

"Which one feels better?" He has the nerve to ask you even as you convulse under him.

"The tip…" his tongue flicks your clitoris and your head falls back, slick dripping out of you like a fucking river and coating his face in a lucid sheen of arousal, "Or the base?" He drags his tongue under the hard nub and slooowly licks up and you nearly lose your mind, your hands tangling in his raven hair and gripping his horns for comfort. Mira gasps loudly against you, claws digging into your legs from the shock of the sudden stimulation, but you don't even notice it, lost as you are on the edge of your release.

Your core pulses desperately with the need to cum all over Mira's face. Everything feels wet and hot and stars, his tongue is lapping up everything you have to give him. It's like he's desperate not to let even a single drop go to waste…

"Mira!" You cry out in a broken voice, trying to grind your core against his eager mouth, "Mira—I'm going to—"

He suddenly lets go of one of your legs. The boneless limb falls over his shoulder, your soft thigh caressing the side of his soaked face. He doesn't grace you with a warning before one of his fingers plunges into you, finally granting your clenching walls some sort of relief.

Your moans increase in volume. You trash under him as if you want to get away. This is almost too much. It's scary. He adds another finger in and rubs that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and suddenly the bliss is debilitating. Your back arches as another orgasm crashes over you, scalding hot and earth-shattering and too fucking vivid for this to be just a dream.

You completely miss the dazed expression on Mira's face, the dark jade of his eyes fading into a glassy mint. 

You're so out of it as you slump back against the roses that you almost don't hear him when he speaks again.

"This scent is—addicting—" his chest heaves and he looks almost intoxicated, "I feel like I'm getting drunk on you..." his cheeks and chin are all shiny and sticky but he clearly doesn't mind. Not when he starts wiping the cum off with a hand before bringing it to his mouth, swallowing as much of it as he can. It's strange how he looks like an animal and a prince at the same time. An otherworldly creature of indescribable beauty, even as he eagerly eats your essence off his face.

“(y/n), I can’t take it anymore…” He breathes frantically, finally allowing himself some sort of relief as he takes his erection out of his pants. His dick is so hard it fucking hurts. He really wanted to take things slow for your sake, but he only ended up edging himself to the point of almost going into a rut.

He lets his hot member fall against your stomach. He’s fucking huge, you stare with wide eyes at the point where his length ends across your abdomen. 

"It… it won't fit…" You mumble, even as your pussy clenches with traitorous want.

"Not this time, probably not." Mira cradles your little body in his arms, "I'd have to train you for it to fit. Stretch you out until your insides have my imprint." He runs a hand down his face in a quick, agitated movement. Every single cell in his body is fighting against the urge to ravish you. His muscles hurt from tightening so violently and Malleus has to force himself to count to ten to keep from showing his cock inside you at once. 

“It’s… fine. I won’t hurt you.” He promises, searching your face for your approval as he lines himself against your entrance. He’s been alive for centuries and yet his heart has never beaten so fast. His hawk-like eyes are focused on you and you alone, burning the image of you laying helpless under him inside his corneas. 

Then you nod up at him, looking so cute as you try to put on a brave face that Malleus almost cums right then and there. The head of his dick slowly pushes inside you. Your head lulls back and Mira's hands shake violently.

It's so big. Your vision goes out of focus as your hole clenches around him greedily. Stars, it's stretching you so well. You're soaking wet and yet he still has to push to enter you because you're so fucking tight. Your legs shake uncontrollably, the feeling of being filled completely wiping out every thought in your head.

He finally touches the deepest place inside you, his large cock still not completely inside, and you both go completely still. The only sounds that break the humid silence are your loud gasps and his feeble ones, mixing together in a cacophony of absolute amazement as you two take in the surreal feeling of finally being connected.

Mira is inside you. You completely forget that this is a dream, that sentence repeating inside your head over and over again.

"...Small." He mutters. You look at him and your heart almost collapses at the tender expression on his face. You think his pupils might have turned into little hearts, rouge dusting his pale cheeks as sweat drips off his hair and chin.

"So small." He makes a show of hovering over you completely and suddenly the sky disappears. There's only him. Above you and around you and inside you. You're face to face with his chest, and as you lean your head back, trying to catch his eyes, you see that he has to tuck his chin against his neck to look back at you. 

…

...

Fuck. Your heart lodges in your throat and your hole clenches around him, coaxing a surprised moan from both your lips.

"(y/n)..." your name sounds heavenly when he says it like that. On a quiet, vulnerable gasp.

"I… I'm going to start moving now, okay?" 

You can't speak, so you give him another frantic nod, squeezing your eyes shut. You're not prepared for how good it feels when he pulls back. His veins scrape against you, the stretching becomes almost unbearable and you're left moaning long and loud in a way that makes Malleus sweat. If you could see him now, you'd notice he looks almost shy, like the first time you kissed his cheek. 

He's almost out of you when he decides to thrust back in, scattering stars across your stomach with a single, gentle motion. Every nerve ending tingles with pleasure. Sweet nonsense falls from your lips and Malleus has to grit his teeth and dig his clawed fingers into the ground in order to cling to the last remains of his thinning patience. His fangs hurt with the primal urge to mark you.

"My (y/n)—" He eases into a steady rhythm, pushing what he can of his shaft inside you. Sweat pours down his face, his hair sticks to his chin and his tongue swipes the salt off his lips, "My sweet girl—my cute little Deerlet—" His hips snap back against your smaller ones in short strokes, his movements growing more and more frenzied as tight, magma hot pleasure builds inside him. The obscene sounds that fill the air turn him on so much he's now full-blown moaning. His beautiful voice calls your name shamelessly, desperately, like you could disappear from under him at any given moment.

"I love you—you're mine—" He growls placing a large hand under your ass as he pounds into you, keeping your hips locked to his, “Say that you’re mine."

The order resonates inside your head. You're not even offended that he's using his magic to intimidate you. You can barely cling to your consciousness at this point.

"I am—I'm—yours, Mira!" You don't even know which way is up anymore, but you know that what you're saying is true. You belong to him. Your best friend. The love of your life.

"Malleus." He corrects you through gritted teeth, then he stops moving entirely, ignoring your disappointed cries as he desperately tries to resist the pull your body has on him, "Say I'm yours, Malleus." 

"I'm yours, Malleus." His real name becomes a moan in your mouth and Malleus finally snaps. There's no more gentle, just a carnal urgency and a need that has waited centuries to be satisfied. He pulls his hips back and then slams into you and fuck, you should be screaming by now but you can't, there's not enough air as you bounce over the flowers and sob, clinging to him like he's your lifeline.

The loud "Fuck!" that leaves his mouth pushes you over the edge, the word so unexpected but so fucking sexy coming from his graceful mouth. You clench down around him, delirious as stars explode behind your vision, and drag him right over the edge with you. 

Malleus holds you so close to him you feel like you might melt into each other as he releases pulse after shuddering pulse of his essence into you.

He cums so much. You can feel his hot semen fill you up and then spill out like it's a waterfall. He's not letting go of you, his face hidden in your hair as he recovers from the star-shattering pleasure of finally, finally being one with you.

"I love you." He mutters, voice breaking.

...

He's crying. That lone thought destroys something inside you and you start feverishly kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck, anything you can reach as you try to soothe him.

Don't cry don't cry don't cry—

You feel him starting to fade in your arms. You can feel yourself starting to fade.

Nonononono— Maker, please—

He pulls away from you and you finally see his face. 

He looks lost. His dark lashes are wet with tears, his mouth is curved in a confused frown and that's when you realize that he loves you so much, but he doesn't know how to process the feeling. He's like a panicked child and you are fading. And he’s always going to remember this moment, but you won’t.

You scream out his name, his real name.

…

And then you wake up, sobbing all over yourself, unable to remember. 

Epel tries his best to comfort you, but you don't stop crying for a long time.

___

Life goes on.

You have a part-time job at a beach bar, on the coastline that extends about 60 miles away from the village.

Epel hates that you have to travel so far when you could just help him out at the farm like you usually do, but you’ll be attending NRC coming September, and you want to save some pocket money for you and Epel to spend on all the cool city stuff you can’t find in your hole of a town.

Beau likes to walk you to the bus stop. Epel would too, but you won’t let him waste his time on you when he has his own work to take care of. Your lamb companion stops following you when the dirt road opens to the fields, getting distracted by the dandelions sprinkled at the edges of the village. 

"See you later, Beau." You chuckle, knowing he will go back to the farm as soon as he gets bored. Beau ignores you and munches away.

The bus stop isn't far, a lone plastic port on a background of sunflowers. As per usual you're the only one here, but the occasional horse and buggy passes by, and the farmers who live in the nearby granges all greet you with cheerful smiles on their faces. They all know where you're headed and wish you a good day at work. You really can't keep anything to yourself in such a small community.

The commute to the beach takes almost an hour. The road zig-zags and then straightens towards the coastline. You're almost tempted to doze off, but finding your way to the beach if you miss your stop is going to be a pain in the ass, so you force yourself to stay awake, keeping your eyes on the picturesque horizon and daydreaming about your mysterious man with the emerald eyes.

You always think about him when you’re riding this bus.

…

You should probably stop being so obsessed with him.

___

The sun is almost in the middle of the sky when you get to the beach bar, and as per usual, it's a crowded mess. This is the infernal hour, and not only because it's hot as sin.

There's people everywhere, craving drinks and food before they go lay down on their beach towels for the rest of the day, their flip-flops leaving sand in every corner of the bar that you'll be sweeping for an eternity. Screaming children run this and that way like they're high on vitamin gummies. Their melting popsicles leave a sticky trail on the ground. They step on it and spread liquid sugar everywhere.

…

Why do you work here again? 

…

Because the pay is good, and your coworker is cute.

Said coworker perks up when he sees you. His ears give an excited wiggle (Maker, he's adorable) and he shoots you a smirk that shows his little fangs, "Ah, kitten! Always a sight for sore eyes." He hisses a 'kishishishi' that you've learned to recognize as his laughter, his closed eyes looking like little half-moons.

"Now move your bum and go change. I need my sla—coworker to serve some tables outside.”

Figures. His lazy ass hates leaving the coolness of the bar to handle the customers sitting outside.

“Is that how you ask for favors, Ruggie?~" You tease him as you step behind the counter and head for the changing rooms in the back.

"I'd smooch ya as a treat but snoggin's not allowed in front of the children." He gives you a cheeky smile. One of the moms around the bar throws him a glare, but he shamelessly ignores it. 

You shake your head and grin to yourself. At least you have him around to make this job a little more bearable.

___

“I am dying.” You groan and rest your head on the counter, the coolness of the wood soothing your flushed face, “Why did I take this job anyway? I don't need the money! I can just live off the land with my lamb companion and eat apple jam for the rest of my days."

Ruggie snorts next to you. He finishes cleaning a beer glass and places it back on the decorative shelf behind you, “Says the one who only works half a shift.”

You turn your head to look at him, cheek smushed against the counter. Rush hour is finally over, but god, you're in pieces. Waiting tables is not as easy as it sounds, and dealing with entitled moms on vacation is a torture worse than stepping on two Legos at the same time.

The sun is starting to set. The blue sky fades into a gentle orange above the deep indigo of the calm sea. Your shift is almost over, but Ruggie will have to stay here for a while longer.

"I'm not a masochist like you." Your eyes follow him as he wipes, cleans, moves, washes and dries plates and glasses at half the speed it takes you to do it. He's like a super cleaning pro.

"Ye gotta work if you want ta eat." He pops open a can of peach tea, then pours it in a glass filled with ice.

"It's not masochism, it's the law of the Savannah." He places the glass right in front of your face. You lift your head off the counter and wrap your hands around the cold beverage as he shoots you a mischievous look. He waits for you to take a sip before adding: "But it's nice ta know you're so interested in my sexual preferences."

You choke.

He laughs that kishishishi sound.

As you wipe your mouth with your wrist and send him a half-assed glare, a familiar sparkle sizzles the air between you.

You bask in the sudden heat for a second, watching as Ruggie's blue-gray eyes trace a slow path down your body.

This kind of flirting is… not uncommon between the two of you, but it never really leads to anything, if only because you're both stuck manning the bar and you can't really leave the place unattended.

But something you can't help but wonder… would he act on it if you two were alone and away from trying eyes? Would you act on it? Ruggie is very cute… and witty and funny and reliable...

Regardless of your feelings on the matter, his casual teasing makes you feel like the hottest person on this beach, so you don't discourage it. You take another sip of tea, sighing through your nose at how pleasant the cold beverage feels when it runs down your throat.

...

"Uh…" Ruggie suddenly looks away, his cheek tinged the lightest shade of pink, "You may uh… want to take that shirt off, kitten."

...

What?

You look at him like he's grown another head.

"Excuse me?" You must have sounded more outraged than you feel, because your voice sends Ruggie into an embarrassed panic.

"N-not like that! It's just…! You've been sweating a lot and your shirt's gone transparent! I can see everythin' from here— I mean, what if a perverted old man walks in and sees you like that?"

You look down at your white shirt. It wasn't visible while you were wearing your green apron, but you can indeed see the outline of your swimsuit peek out from under the wet fabric, and you figure your wet back looks the same. Oops.

"Ah shit, sorry I didn't notice." You stand up and Ruggie turns his head away at the speed of light.

"No no… s'fine I have— a jacket you can wear while you walk home if ya need it."

Your lips quirk in a grateful smile as you head for the changing room, "Thank you! You're the best, Ruggie!"

"Yeah, yeah…" he breathes, quietly rubbing his temples as soon as you're out of the room.

___

Left alone in an empty beach bar, Ruggie barely resists the urge to slam his head against the counter. His shoulders are burning like he's been marked like cattle, and all he wants to do is to walk into the ocean until the waves swallow him completely. Maybe the abhorrent heat that singes his skin would fucking disappear then. And if not, at least the cold water would kill his boner.

This happens every fucking time. Every fucking time. He should be smarter than this, and yet he always falls for the same tricks, and the worst part is that he's tricking himself. Ruggie knows that flirting with you is akin to showing burning coals in his abdomen. He gets so fucking excited his entire body starts tingling with electricity, which is not the ideal state to be when you're at work.

And yet he still does it anyway.

Maybe he really is a masochist.

And maybe he should actually bend you over this counter and finally get rid of the frustration that's been building up inside him for the past two months.

And oh God, you're going to the same school as him in September. You're going to be prancing around in your little uniform, calling him 'senpai' and shit and he's going to have to go through his heat while being tortured like that.

Ruggie pours himself a glass of ice-cold water and downs it in one gulp.

Yeah, he's fucked. 

___

"Epel! Carry me!~" You cling to your friend, Grandma and Grandpa chuckling at your antics from the sofa and the armchair respectively.

Having finished washing the dishes, Epel wipes his hands on a dishcloth and pushes you away with his elbow, "No thanks. I'm tired too ya know."

This is not the first time you've done this song and dance. With how little you've been sleeping lately, you're always looking for excuses to be carried around by Epel. Your legs feel like jello, you are not walking all the way to the barn tonight. Just changing into your pajamas has been hard enough.

"Yeah, but you slept like a rock all night!" You hug him from behind and rest your lips against his shoulder, giving him an unimpressed look from over his shoulder, "I woke up to you drooling all over my shirt multiple times."

Epel flushes the color of the fruit he's named after and mumbles something unintelligible. He waves goodnight to his grandparents and so do you, then he struggles towards the front door, pretty much having to drag you across the hallway.

"If you're this tired then why don't ya just quit the beach job already?"

The two of you step outside, greeted by the loud crying of the cicadas. There's not a cloud above you, the stars clearly visible in the inky blue of the night.

"I can't do that. Ruggie needs me."

Epel scoffs. It's the exact same sound he made when he saw you come home wearing your coworker's jacket. 

"Why don't ya go ask yer darlin' Ruggie to carry ya then?" His accent gets more jumbled as his irritation grows. Still, for all his fussing, Epel bends down and waits for you to climb on his shoulders. 

You do so happily, nuzzling into him like a spoiled cat.

A pair of emerald eyes flashes behind your eyelids, but you shrug it off.

"Sorry but I'm too drunk to go back to the beach to ask him."

"Only you can get drunk after two glasses of apple cider." Epel smirks, ignoring you when you hit his arm and start whining again.

__

You lay down onto Epel's checkered blanket like a starfish.

"Where am I supposed ta sleep? On the ground?" Epel turns the lantern off, then lights the incense to keep away mosquitoes and other bugs and places it on the windowsill.

He turns towards you with his hands on his hips, watching as you lay in your shared nest without a care in the world, and sighs. So spoiled.

"You can sleep on top of me, I don't care."

Epel almost chokes on his saliva.

You laugh at his flustered face. It almost looks like he's angry, eyes wide and an outraged blush on his cheeks.

You open your arms for him, "Come on! It's not like we won't end up in this position in the morning anyway."

It’s true. Epel often rolls on top of you in his sleep, and nothing you do ever seems to shake him off or wake him up. You figure you can just get right to it, since he apparently loves resting his head on your chest while he snores.

Your friend closes the distance between you with three hesitant steps. "... You're such a moron, seriously." He mumbles, kneeling between your legs and then draping himself over you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He smells like apples, as always. His cotton pajamas and his fluffy hair make him the perfect cuddle buddy. You sigh contently into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his back.

It’s quiet for a bit. Epel’s weight is strangely comforting over you. The sound of his steady breaths is a familiar lullaby, and you quickly find yourself floating in that comfy, tingly space between sleep and wake.

…

“Do you do this with Ruggie too?” 

Epel mutters so quietly you almost don’t hear him. He doesn’t say it accusingly just… like he’s sulking.

“... What?” Any semblance of sleep disappears from your mind as you catch his dejected tone of voice, “You mean like hugging?— Of course not.” You bring a hand to his hair and start scratching his skull like you know he likes it, and you feel him relax in your arms.

…

…

“Have you ever kissed him?”

Okay, now you’re definitely wide awake.

You look down at him, trying to catch his expression, “Epel, what are you talking about?”

He raises his head and pins you down with a demanding, silvery gaze. You sigh and lay your head back down, closing your eyes as you think of the best way to answer him.

“I haven’t kissed him.” You open your eyes and catch Epel’s expression shift just a little. He tries to keep an impassive front, but you can tell he’s relieved, “But I haven’t kissed you either.” You could maybe understand the cuddle comparison, since Epel is your designated snuggle friend, but who you kiss or don’t kiss shouldn’t matter to him.

Right?

“... Do you want to?” 

Your breath catches in your throat. Everything seems to still around you. Your heartbeat speeds up as you look into Epel's eyes. You know he's pretty manly despite his soft features, but he's never been so… forward before. You two have always been like siblings, so you really didn't think Epel felt that way about you. Maybe he's just joking?

… He's not. His eyes dart to your lips and darken, like there's a thunderstorm inside his gaze. Soft blue turns to rainy gray.

Do you want to?

…

"Yes." You think Epel stops breathing, but you don't have time to think about it because he's suddenly leaning towards you, stopping only when his lips are a few centimetres away from yours.

His labored breaths fan your lips and send a flurry of tingles down your abdomen…

___

❥ How do you handle this situation with Epel?

⟶ Lay back and let Epel take the lead. You deserve this after being teased in your dreams by your mystery man and teased in real life by your hyena coworker. Besides, you kind of want to see what your stubborn Epel is capable of in bed... (sub!deerlet content)

⟶ Touch him, claim him, make him beg for the next kiss. With the way he’s always clinging to you, you suspect this is what Epel has always wanted anyway. (dom!deerlet content)

vote here      |      what is this?

❥ taglist: @mirrorsandpacts @stormweaver13​ @bobaryn @justsomepersons @mokkeguts @maiieus​ @trashmomarcya @dat-bi-bitch @lem-thebeast @mythrule @hfhgjgji @zzz-sleeplessy-soft-xxx @anicious @kae-draws-sometimes @cogitover @sammy6667 @shrimp-heads @twistedmintcandy @gyghii @akelois @maknae-lenna @chiefcashgianthero @carasketch​ @mayorkoopbob @linseyz @gardenondreams @andromeda-gay @equus-meretrix @the-king-of-blue @spacebabesupernova @kagicannotsee @doraconia @hello-starlight @yandere-romanticaa @skyboo @uwu-dreams @kay8675 @meltyans @drawbud @msyaoigodkanna @roseinbloom02 @hoodiedevil @ikemenisruiningme @miiluka @hello-selene94 @moondustinhislungs @nosochek-3o @epher-posts @monoshii-wasu @rosavine @bitch-let-me-die @raychel @pumpkiethepie @hypmicluvbot @theallpowerfulrosami @mmquinno @mayunnaise21 @ruvelise

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 17

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns to be a person separate from the trauma that shaped his life for so long, and begins the arduous process of preventing what happened to him from happening to anyone else. It gets far more personal than even he could have anticipated.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory (especially references to abuse and grooming), referenced deaths of family members, near-dissociation, near-panic attacks

Chapter summary: Caleb tries to make some positive decisions for himself and reaches out to Felix to teach him a spell (and help him cope).

Chapter notes: Chapter title is from Silhouette by Sleeping At Last

*****

Chapter 17: It must be so hard, in the mess you’re always cleaning up, to believe in the ghost of unbroken love.

Caleb and Essek dropped Caduceus at the Grove after breakfast the next morning. They would be picking him up again the day after next, along with the rest of the Nein, but any time he could spend with his family was to be treasured.

They then teleported into Beau and Yasha’s side of the house in Rexxentrum. Caleb had begun the process of putting a new teleportation circle in his laboratory, but it would take time, even with Essek’s help.

Yasha peered out from the kitchen. “Hello! You just missed Beau.” She looked at Caleb, who had slept poorly until he had given in and polymorphed himself into a cat, and swept both him and Essek into a tight hug. He liked this side of her, less concerned about making a social fuckup and just doing what felt right.

Essek awkwardly patted her back. “Hello, Yasha.”

She let them go. “Oh, Caleb! I’ll get the note. Give me a moment.” She ran upstairs, thundering around the upper floor.

Essek set a pouch of Xhorhassian spices and fried bugs from the region on the kitchen table; he had gotten lucky at the market yesterday. The peaceful conclusion of the war had freed up trade, allowing a better variety of goods to be found, especially in port cities such as Nicodranas. This also meant Essek had been able to stock up on a few hair and skincare products that were hard to find outside Rosohna. He had insisted on picking up a few products for Caleb as well. Caleb was still a little unused to being clean, let alone having a skincare routine.

Yasha pelted back downstairs and passed Caleb a little scrap of paper. “Here.”

“Danke.” Feeling the high quality of the paper between his fingers, Caleb suspected Nico had torn this piece from his own spellbook. Caleb made plans to leave some paper and ink lying around downstairs in case Nico came again while everyone was out. For now, he committed Nico’s handwriting to memory and stashed the note between the pages of his new journal. Then, he reached into his pocket and handed Yasha its twin. “For you. I thought… maybe it was time we collect happier memories.”

Yasha accepted the leather-bound journal, slightly smaller than her old one so she could keep it on her person with ease. His was identical. “Thank you, Caleb. This is a lovely gift.” She held the leather to her nose and inhaled deeply. She chuckled. “It smells like the ocean.”

“Ja, for now.” He hadn’t told the Nein what his old journal had held. But, if nothing else, the soft look on Yasha’s face confirmed she understood it was tied to his past, much like hers had been. He wasn’t sure he would ever tell the Nein, aside from Essek, what he had truly planned with the letters and the T-Dock. He was sure Beauregard suspected, and possibly Veth, and he was certain the rest, especially Caduceus, had caught on that he was headed down a self-destructive path. But Caleb had made the decision not to pursue it. Unveiling that now would upset them, and he had upset them enough. And Caleb preferred to keep that chapter of his life shut, lest he fall into temptation again.

It was time to look forward, as much as he was capable. As much as the current circumstances would allow him. The past would always have a hold on him, but he could choose to let it guide him towards making things better instead of breaking the world to undo what had already been done.

On that front, he had promised to pay Felix a visit, and Essek had burned his teleportation spells so Caleb still had his free for the day.

***

Caleb landed alone in Blumenthal. His breath still seized in his chest at the sight. He pressed a hand to his sternum and gulped down air until the world stopped spinning. He wondered, a little frantically, whether this would ever get easier. And then the panic passed, and he could breathe again.

He checked in with the gravekeeper, who confirmed they were holding off on the Baumanns’ funeral for a few more days in case Nico was willing and able to attend. He passed on the news that Nico had made a small amount of contact, and Caleb willed himself to exude what quiet optimism he could manage.

The gravekeeper was an elderly widow who had been tending the Blumenthal graves for as long as Caleb could remember. She knew him, of course, and that was unnerving as always. But he was trying to stay calm about the people of Blumenthal knowing the professor visiting Felix had once been Bren, son of Una and Leofric Ermundrud. It was hard, though, knowing there were at least a few neighbourhoods who could make the connection between what happened to the Baumanns, and what happened to the Ermendruds. They had not stated outright at any point that Nico had killed his parents, but the more people who knew about what happened, the more people were likely to suspect the truth. And, of course, the Schneiders knew. Caleb didn’t want the townspeople to think of Nico that way; he was going through enough. Caleb wasn’t sure how he felt about himself, only that there was a weight in his guts that intensified whenever he thought about it too much.

Caleb made one last stop before meeting Felix. He was here anyway, and he had not visited his parents since he had buried the letters with them. So he picked his way through the winding cemetery. It was easy to find his parents again, now that he had been here once.

“Hallo,” he said quietly, kneeling in the grass before their paired gravestones. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, really, but he had been so swaddled in his grief that it had been hard to think straight. He pulled out the new book and rested it on his knee. “A lot has happened since I last came. I have a house now, in Rexxentrum, and a job teaching at Soltryce Academy. I’m going to stop what happened to me, and the both of you, from happening to anyone else. Best I can, anyway. Mixed success so far.” An inappropriate chuckle escaped him. “It’s… strange. Seeing these young boys, Felix and Nico, who had been set on the same path I had walked. We stopped Felix before he could… but I wasn’t fast enough to save Nico’s parents. I am… doing what I can now. They are both so young. Children, really. And, well, you know children that age rarely feel like children. I didn’t. I think Trent exploited that.”

He let the quiet wash over him. A light, fresh breeze played against his face. Most residents of Blumenthal were probably hard at work right now. This was a farming town, after all.

He remembered the journal on his knee. “Oh, and I have a new book now. This one is for happy memories. Nico left me a thank you note; I suppose that’s the first one. He’s not… he needs time. But I am starting to believe we can help him. I’m… I think that scares me. I understand what he’s going through better than most, but… this is a huge responsibility. I hope I don’t fuck it up. Sorry, mother. I would blame my new friends, but, in truth, I’ve always had a mouth on me. My friends are very cool, though. I think you would have liked them. Well, jury’s out on Beauregard, but she grows on you. Maybe I’ll tell you about our adventures next time I visit. Well, some of them. From Trostenwald, to Xhorhas, to a floating flesh city, to a Rexxentrum courtroom... we had a big year. And it’s because of them that I can bear talking to you like this.”

A tiny thought, right at the back of Caleb’s head, suggested he should bring the Nein next time. Or maybe one or two of them. Nine people clustered around a pair of graves sounded like a lot.

Caleb wanted to stay longer, but he had to check on Felix. He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. “I will return, I promise. I will not leave you for as long as I did the first time. I love you both.”

He stepped away while he still had the will to do so. The grief was there, but he felt in control of it. For now, at least. And there was a family that needed him.

***

Louise Schneider was tending the vegetable patch in front of the house, while Friedrich knelt by a wooden cart, replacing a damaged wheel. Caleb fought off nausea at the sight of the cart; it looked just like the one his parents had owned. That… was fine. He was fine. Blumenthal-standard cart. The things were everywhere.

Louse set her trowel aside, sitting back on her heels. “Hallo… Caleb?” She was, evidently, struggling a bit to figure out what she was supposed to call him.

“Ja, hallo.” His voice was a little rough, but steady.

“Felix is in his room.” Louise wiped her brow with the back of her glove. “He’s been a little… reclusive.”

Sensing this conversation was going to take more than a few seconds, Caleb sat in the grass with her. “Okay, talk to me. How is he? And how are the two of you?”

Louise huffed a short, rueful laugh. “It is hard to tell how your child is feeling when he barely talks to you.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Caleb said, as gently as he sensed she would tolerate. “My situation was not like Felix’s, but I can understand a little. It’s… not a comfortable feeling to know that all the love in the world is not enough to… to…” He breathed. “All I know is that I have grappled with the guilt of my actions for a long time, and the fact we were able to get to him before it went that far… it does not erase the shame. It is an ugly thing, to face yourself, to face the person you have become, even if you were manipulated and abused and brainwashed to become that person.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do?” she whispered.

“Love him. Show him you are there for him, in whatever way he can bear.”

Louise gazed back at the house. “But if love wasn’t enough…”

“It takes time,” Caleb told her. “You can’t measure it, or count it. Time looks different for all of us. But with your support, it will be easier for him to come to terms with what happened to him, and to understand he is not a bad person for the things he was persuaded to do, and almost did… easier than it is for me. You have to remember, Frau Schneider, that those of us in the Volstrucker program thought we were serving our country, and we were honoured to do it.”

“We thought the same,” Louise murmured. “When Felix was chosen for the program…” She sighed. “I told Master Ikithon to do whatever it took to help him be what the Empire needed.”

The ground was unsteady beneath Caleb, and he was relieved to be sitting down. “My mother and father felt the same, if Ikithon spoke true. He usually does.” A wave of pettiness overcame him, and he chuckled. “Did. That is why it is so difficult to process. He rarely lied to us outright. And we thought we had a choice. We did, to a degree. We chose to serve, and we thought we had to endure what he put us through and what he asked us to do… so we could serve our country.”

“What do you now believe?”

“I believe there are good people in the Empire,” said Caleb. “There are things worth preserving. The child abuse and murder of innocent Empire citizens are not among of them.” He was getting distracted, so he steered his thoughts back in their original direction. “Now is the time Felix needs you most. The biggest thing that has helped me is knowing there are people who care about me and value me, even when I don’t care about myself.”

“We’re trying,” said Louise. “Thank you. He should be in his room, if you’d like to talk to him.”

“Ja, I will. He has been working on a Transmutation spell, which happens to be my specialty.” Caleb pushed himself to his feet, straightening his coat. “And, Louise?”

“Ja?”

“We were children a long time ago,” he said. “And my memories of Blumenthal are too… complicated to linger on, but I remember your kindness. And I have seen your love for your son. You are a good mother. Remember that, and extend that same kindness to yourself, ja?”

Louise picked up her trowel, her movements slow as if through water. “Danke.”

Caleb moved towards the house, exchanging a wave with Friedrich. The front door was open, so he stepped through. The house only had one storey, so he moved past the living area to a short, thin hallway. One door was open, revealing a wide bed for two people. He knocked on the other door.

“What?” said Felix, voice tinged with adolescent irritation that brought back a fuckton of memories for Caleb, of studying in his bedroom until his mother interrupted to coax him down for a meal. It ached, but bearably so.

“It’s Caleb. May I come in?”

“Ja, I guess.”

Caleb turned the knob and slowly pushed, poking his head through first. Felix was sitting on the wooden floor, beside a low bed made from a rough timber frame. His spellbook lay on the floor in front of him, but it was seemingly open to a random page, and Felix’s hair was mussed as if he had just been lying down. On the floor, if Caleb were to guess.

“Would you like some good news?” Caleb said, stepping inside. He shut the door, leaning against it while he awaited Felix’s response.

“That would make a nice change,” Felix said flatly.

Caleb sat on the floor in front of him and pulled out his new book, removing Nico’s note and handing it to Felix. “Nico visited my home while it was empty the other day. He left this.”

Felix scanned the note with careful, controlled slowness. He passed it back, staring sightlessly at the pages of his book.

“He also responded to a Sending,” Caleb continued. “Only to tell me he did not wish to talk, but that is progress. Has he spoken to you?”

“Nein,” Felix said quietly. There was a heaviness to his posture, and he seemed to lack the energy to express himself with his face or voice. Aside from that singular spike of irritation when Caleb had knocked.

“Well, it appears he is listening. If you can bear it, I would suggest you keep talking to him.”

“Ja, okay.” The Felix in front of him was a far cry from the Felix in his messages. Exhausted, flattened… defeated, in some ways. Beaten down and ready to give up. Caleb knew the feeling well. It was why he had been messaging Felix so frequently, knowing that he had no one else who could understand what he had been through. What he had almost done.

It would have been easy enough to talk about the Fly spell and let him have a distraction, but they had things to discuss first. It was better to end their meeting today on a positive note, rather than give him a reprieve now and drag him back to earth later.

“I spoke to your mother,” Caleb said, sitting with the guilt of not giving Felix the distraction he sorely needed. Not yet.

Felix huffed quietly. “Was it a useful conversation? Mine haven’t been.”

“I have the luxury of not being family,” Caleb replied. “I can tell her things that you never would.”

Felix snorted. “Right.”

“She says you’re becoming a recluse.”

Felix shrugged.

“Why is that?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Felix muttered, and Caleb got the sense he probably would have snapped at him, had he the energy. “I know they’re afraid of me.”

“I don’t think they are, Felix.”

“Doesn’t matter. I was going to kill them, and I would’ve succeeded. I know that. They know that.”

“I don’t think they’re worried about that right now.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your parents, Felix.”

“Murder also isn’t nice, but I was going to do that anyway.” Felix flipped through the pages of his spellbook until he landed on one Caleb recognised: the formula for Fireball. “Push the cart in front of the door, throw one of these fuckers into the house, or maybe a Lightning Bolt would’ve looked like a freak accident.” Having not expected this, Caleb had to fight a wave of nausea and grasp tightly to the present, and hoped it didn’t show on his face; this wasn’t about him or his bullshit. “Hadn’t decided. Whatever. If I aimed right, it would be over quickly. If not… it would be over eventually. Nico had similar plans, which apparently worked.” Felix’s fingers spasmed on the page, as if resisting the urge to tear it. “If my mother and father do not fear me, they have deluded themselves into thinking I’m innocent. Makes a certain kind of sense, I suppose. I never could tell them what Trent had us do. I have nothing to say to them. I see no point trying to comfort them when they should be afraid of me. They should not want me here.”

Felix was spiralling. Badly. Caleb was out of his depth, and his brain was not turning as efficiently as it usually did, on a knife’s edge of whether to stay present or dissociate entirely. But he had to do something.

“Would you like to guess where I have been today?” Caleb asked. “It’s here in Blumenthal.”

Felix shrugged. “I hate guessing games.”

“I visited my mother and father. Spoke to them for a while.”

Confusion furrowed Felix’s brow for a moment, before he looked up, understanding. “Can’t imagine they were very talkative.”

Caleb’s laugh surprised both of them. “You’re not wrong. Rather one-sided. But maybe they can hear me.”

Felix continued to take the bait. “Fine. I’ll bite. What did you talk about?”

“Life updates. I have only visited once before, a few months ago, and that was more… intense. And, well, since then, I’ve hit several personal milestones I wanted to tell them about.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I am about to guilt-trip you into speaking to your living parents.”

“Oh, fuck you.” There was no aggression behind it, merely exhausted resignation, as if Felix already knew Caleb had the upper hand.

“I am not expecting you to bare your soul to them,” Caleb said. “I understand the impulse to hold back and I do not wish to deny you your privacy. But, it is very easy for people like us to get caught in our heads, and it can be difficult to pull ourselves out of it without help.”

“And if I don’t want to have to look at them and remember I was going to fucking kill them?”

“You seem to remember that well enough without seeing their faces.”

Felix shoved his face into his hands, sighing loudly. “I don’t know what I would even talk about. We have nothing in common anymore.”

“I’ve always found admitting I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing is very helpful.”

Felix snorted.

“And I do not agree that you have nothing in common.” Caleb didn’t try to make Felix look at him. If this were one of the Nein, he probably would have gotten obnoxiously in the way until they couldn’t ignore him, like Jester, Veth and even sometimes Essek had been known to do for him. But, with Felix, his words would have to be enough. “You have told me you love them, and they clearly love you. There is a lot of common ground there.”

“What common ground?” Felix curled more deeply inward with the gravity of defeat. “I cared more about some bullshit Trent put in my head than how much I love my parents.”

This was far more familiar territory to Caleb. “You are not alone in that, Felix. I loved my mother and father. And I killed them just the same. Trent exploited our patriotism to isolate us from our families and tie our worth to serving the empire, to serving him. And by having us kill our families based on a lie, one of the only lies he ever told us, he could ensure we had no one else to support us. That we would not believe we deserved better, even if we learned he had modified our memories. He wanted us to have nothing else but him. Did he pull that ‘we are family’ bullshit with you?”

Felix dropped his hands, snickering bitterly. “Ja. All the time.”

“Creepy, ja?”

Felix kept laughing quietly.

“He invited me to a ‘family reunion’ with him, Astrid and Eadwulf a few months ago,” said Caleb. “My friends came with me. Do you remember Caduceus?” Felix nodded. “He told Trent he was a fool, and that no one loves him.”

Felix scoffed. “You’re lying.”

“I am paraphrasing. He did call Trent a fool, but what he said about love was… wait, let me quote this exactly. I have this burned into my memory forever.” Caleb cleared his throat, and did not attempt to mimic Caduceus’s voice because he was awful at accents, but he quoted: “He said, ‘I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that, but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone who will mourn you when you are gone. Respectfully.’ And then Trent left.”

“Okay, two things,” said Felix. “First of all, Caduceus is cooler than you. Second, your memory is terrifying and I am rethinking every word I have ever said to you.”

“Caduceus is very cool, ja. And the memory is a blessing and a curse for me and everyone around me. I also have a very good sense of time, and I have used it to annoy the shit out of my friends.”

“Nerd.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck off.”

Caleb chuckled. “Back to my original point. Trent is a piece of shit. He wanted us to believe we chose to follow him, ja, but the choice was false. He wanted us to believe we did not deserve better. Even now that we are free from him, it is not easy to break that conditioning. Our minds are more fragile than we like to think, ja?”

“Ja, I guess.” The momentary brightness faded from Felix’s expression, and the heaviness returned.

“And an important step in countering that is to reach out to the people who care about you.”

Felix slammed his spellbook shut, hiding the Fireball spell from view. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Let me ask a question in return. What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you so sure you do not want to repair your relationship with your parents?”

Felix groaned softly. “Did you have to word it like that? Of course I…” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Arschloch.”

“Then, is the problem less about what you want, or don’t want, and more about what you think you deserve?” Caleb had far too much experience in feeling that way.

“Fuck you, Caleb.” Felix scrambled to his feet, hugging the spellbook to his chest. “Are you going to teach me this spell, or did you just plan on lecturing me all day?”

Ah. There was the limit. “All right, I’ve said my piece.” Caleb got up. “You said you’ve transcribed the spell?”

“Ja. I just… it’s not an easy spell to practice.”

“I know. Shall we go outside? We will need space for this.”

[lu-undy]

Chapter 85 - SBT

Here it is!

"Situations of great stress do change a man, Mundy." 

Mundy looked up at Lucien who averted his gaze. Midnight had passed but both were still awake in their bed, wrapped in the intimacy of the dark night and the warmth of their hearts.

"What d'you mean, luv'?" 

"I mean that I have seen it as much as I have been through it." Lucien answered. 

"Wanna… Tell me about it?" 

Lucien frowned.

"I couldn't. But I suppose now, as I am dead, those secrets will go to no one else."

Mundy turned and sat up on the bed. He reached for the night-table from which he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one and put it between Lucien's lips. The Frenchman nodded in thanks before Mundy lit one for himself. The Aussie sat up with his back against the bed's headboard. His hand dived under the duvet until it found Lucien's. 

"Go on, then, tell me." 

Lucien looked at Mundy on his right and smiled before resting his head on his lover's shoulder. 

"I have fought in the war Mundy. I have seen what desperation does to men, I have seen what the fear of being caught does to people. It reduces them to animals, to prey. It strips them of their humanity exactly the same as it does for those who chase them down. Suddenly, there is no good or bad anymore, only alive or dead. And the fear of dying is engraved in us all. In that regard we are not different from animals. For life to triumph and a species to last, it must prefer life over death."

Lucien closed his eyes. 

"What I am getting at is that you might know how your father reacts in normal situations, but you might never understand how he reacted to this feeling of being tracked down, hunted down. And for what? For having a farm on a land with oil. That is no crime, that is no offense to anyone. Him and your mother, they both were hunted down like beasts for no legitimate reason and it is precisely for that - because it was outside of the boundaries of reason, morality and legality - that he might have reacted in a way that no one can understand. Even he himself might look back and not understand his reaction." 

Lucien puffed on his cigarette and exhaled in a beautiful laminar flow of minty smoke. Mundy frowned. 

"Your father wanted to protect his property, no doubt. But if the situation was desperate, he might have resorted to saving the one most important thing he could."

"My mum?"

"Exactly. And you heard Maurice, it plunged her, her mind and her body in a torment that no doctor could help with."

"Yeah… As always, I just feel so bad for mum… If you knew her, you'd know she's the kindest person ever, she-she's just the best. Whenever I felt bad or dad got angry at me for whatever reason, she'd always come to my room, or outside. She'd look for me and give me somethin' to snack on while she calms me down. Pfff… Sounds like I'm making stuff up."

"Why do you say that?" Lucien asked, his head still on Mundy's shoulder.  

The Aussie crushed his cigarette butt down in the ashtray on the night table. Like a reflex, he opened his hand and Lucien slid his cigarette end between his fingers. He crushed it too and both lay down before sinking lower under the sheets. They faced each other and Lucien laced a leg between Mundy's.

"My mum's the best person in the world but when I argued with my dad last time, she just… sat there and said nothing. I mean… She usually did so but I don't know why this time it just - it just hurt more." 

Lucien softly put his palm on Mundy's cheek and stroked it slowly. 

"Mundy, everything I just said about your father does apply to your mother too. Don't get an opinion too fast. Give yourself time and give them time."

"Yeah… Guess you're right but… It hurts, Lu'..." 

"Come here." Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy's head and the Aussie dived in his chest. 

"Thanks, love, really. I don't know what I'd have done on my own, without you…" 

Lucien lowered his head to kiss Mundy's head through his hair. His fingers ruffled the locks of hair and the Aussie felt his lover’s breath gently flow on his scalp.

“Do not thank me, it is my duty and I do it with pleasure and honor.” Lucien whispered. “I am humbled that you trust me such that you confide in me, really. Thank you, mon beau loup.”

[My handsome wolf.]

With their limbs entangled in the safety of their bed, they soon fell asleep. Lucien woke up from time to time as Mundy moved erratically in his sleep. He calmed him down, stroking his face, whispering in his ear, kissing his temple and stroking his arms and hands to soothe him down. Clearly, his disagreement with his parents was disturbing Mundy in the furthest and deepest corners of his mind. Even with his eyes closed, the poor Aussie frowned in front of images that his malicious mind projected on his shut eyelids. It happened a few times in the night and Lucien thanked the Lord he could only sleep lightly. He comforted his lover and stayed up every time until the tremors passed and Mundy’s brow relaxed.

The next morning, Mundy woke up after his lover. He went straight to the kitchen and found Lucien at the breakfast table, talking to Perle and Soot. He turned his head when he saw Mundy and smiled.

“Bonjour, mon amour.”

“He, luv’...” Mundy dragged his feet to his lover who waited for him with open arms. 

“Come and sit down. Non, not on that chair,” Lucien took his hand and pulled on it to make him sit on his lap. “Here, much better.”

“I’m not crushing you?”

“I was not going to mention it, but you did put on a few kilograms, Mundy.”

“What?!”

Lucien chuckled and tapped the tip of Mundy’s nose. 

“I am joking, mon loup. Here, your coffee.”

Mundy smiled and took the mug that Lucien was handing him and let himself be babied by his lover. He rested his head on Lucien’s shoulder. The Frenchman had his hair loose and it flowed down on his shoulder such that Mundy was laying his face on the silver locks.

“Gosh… I could fall asleep again… Your hair is so, so soft…” He closed his eyes.

“You might as well. I presume you don’t feel well rested enough.”

“Oh? What d’you mean?”

“You kept on moving in your sleep.”

“Really?”

“Oui.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Like a baby, every few hours.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, luv’.”

“Don’t apologise, it was a delight.”

“What?” Mundy’s eyebrows jumped.

“Well, I had the perfect opportunity to shower you in affection without you pushing me back.”

“As if I ever pushed you back…!”

They both chuckled. Mundy crossed his legs that, given their length, were touching the floor even though he was on his lover’s lap.

“Open your mouth, mon loup…?”

“Mh? Oh, aaah… Mh!” Mundy’s eyes crossed on the toast that  Lucien held in front of his mouth before biting in. "Mh… Is that…?"

"Apricot jam, oui." 

Mundy gave a sweet grin. 

"Thanks, luv'." 

"I am thankful to you, you brighten my days."

"Even with my family nonsense?" 

"Oui, I am thankful for it." 

"Why?" 

"Because it puts what we feel for each other to the test and I am delighted to see that so far, our love is stronger." Lucien smiled. 

"Course it is. I don't know what I'd do without you. Guess I'd be somewhere in the desert with my van, at the lake, doin' nothing but wanting to beat something up." 

"Instead, you are on my lap being fed like the king that you are." Lucien smiled. 

"Pfff, yeah, right, a king still in his pyjamas, eh?" 

"A king nonetheless." Lucien fed Mundy the toast before biting in it himself. 

"Mh, thanks, Lu', really. And uh… I uh… Nobody ever did that to me before." 

Lucien raised an eyebrow. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Nobody… took me on their lap. It's usually the other way around if they ever feel something for me." 

"You Mundy, have never known love, but only physical attraction."

"Maybe, yeah. Weird to do all these things with you now. Feel like I never really learnt or did any of that before. To me, it was all stuff that people did in the movies but not in real life." 

"You find it… weird?" Lucien asked.

"Not in a bad way, not at all. It's just… I didn't know I could feel more at home with someone else than with my parents." 

Lucien tightened his hug around Mundy's body and kissed his temple repeatedly. 

"You will feel at home with them too, you will see."

"How can you be so sure?" 

"I don't know your parents, but I know the son. And the son is a rare jewel in this world. So I have no doubt that given some time, you will get along better with them." 

"Hope so." Mundy finished his coffee. "When d'you wanna go to them?" 

"Non, Mundy, it is not I who wants anything, it is you. When do you want to go?" 

Mundy took a second to think. 

"As soon as we can." He answered. "It might take me days to tell them everythin'." 

"Parfait."

[Perfect.]

A moment later, both were outside putting on their helmets. 

"Do you want to drive?" Lucien asked. 

"Can I?"

"I don't know, can you?" Lucien chuckled. 

"Well, yeah, I know how to, I just… It's yours, Lu'. And it's the spooky bike, maybe I can't drive it."

"The spooky bike?" Lucien chuckled. "This is our bike, Mundy."

"Right…" 

Mundy straddled it at the front and felt Lucien do the same behind him. 

"Where's the key?" 

"Put your hands on the handles." Lucien answered. 

"Yeah but I need the key to-"

"Non, you don't, do as I say." Lucien almost sang. 

"Right… Oh! Wow, hold on, what?!" As soon as Mundy's hands touched the handles, the motorcycle woke up in a low and not so loud rumble of the engine. 

"It works with your fingerprints." Lucien explained. 

"You shittin' me?!" 

"Non," Lucien chuckled. "I am not shitting you, now go and show me how you drive her, hm?" 

"Holy dooley…!" Mundy laughed like a young boy with a new toy. "Told you it was a spooky bike! Right, let's go…!"

Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy and the Aussie melted when he felt his lover lean his head on his back. 

"Do you remember the address?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, 'course." 

The drive was nice, especially for Lucien who, contrary to Mundy, shamelessly hugged his lover. He even slid his hands on his lover's sides and gently scratched him, on his shirt. More often than once did Mundy let himself melt at a red light, his chest heaving and shivers running through his spine. Gosh, Lucien played with his body like he does with the piano: he knew exactly what button to push and when.

Suddenly Lucien tapped Mundy's shoulder and signalled him to turn right. The Aussie didn't understand why but followed his lover's instructions until Lucien signed for him to stop. They both put a foot down and removed their helmets. 

"Why did you make me come here?" Mundy asked. 

"You can't go to your parents empty-handed, go and buy something for them." Lucien nodded in the direction of a pastry shop.

"Oh…" Mundy looked at the shop, then back at his lover, and grinned. "What would I do without you…?" 

"You would certainly forget about good manners!" Lucien answered. "Now, go." 

"Come with me."

"Non, you know them and their tastes. Besides, it is better if I don't interfere. I have done more than enough." 

"Right, fine. I'll be back quickly." 

A few minutes later, Mundy exited the shop with a bag in his hand. 

"You have what you need?" 

"Hope so." 

"A bit more confidence, please." Lucien pulled Mundy's chin up with the tip of his index and the Aussie smiled. "Much better, mon loup." 

[My wolf]

They hopped on the motorcycle again and this time, they went straight to Mike and Caroline's house. After he stopped the motorcycle, Mundy removed his helmet and sighed. 

"Anxious?" 

"Y-yeah, a bit." 

"It will all be fine, mon amour. Remember, you go there to explain yourself and to let your parents explain themselves, d'accord?"

[Alright?]

Mundy nodded and he took the bag that Lucien was handing him. 

"You don't come out until everything has been explained in both parts." Lucien adjusted the collar of his lover's polo shirt and dusted his shoulders off. "And Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Please be patient with yourself and your father."

Mundy sighed. 

"I'll try…"

"Non, look at me… Please, if you feel like it is unbearable and you want to leave, think of your mother, and if that is not enough, think of me too." 

Mundy smiled, albeit with a hint of sadness. 

"Right…"

Lucien went to the tip of his toes and adjusted his lover's hair, brushing it with his fingers. 

"Please," Lucien insisted and he looked Mundy in the eye. "Promise me." 

"I promise you." 

"Very well. Now, I would kiss you but your parents have been stuck at their window watching us for long enough." 

Mundy blushed. 

"Go ahead, mon loup."

"R-right… Wish me luck…"

"You won't need it." Lucien straddled the motorcycle again and gave his lover a sweet gaze. "Be yourself, be the Mundy whom I fell for. You will make it." 

"Thanks, Lu'." 

"Je t'aime." Lucien put on his helmet and left. 

[I love you.]

Mundy turned to the brown door. He walked on the slabs on stone with daisies and tulips left and right and when he faced the door, he gave a knock. 

A few seconds later, his father opened. 

"Hey, Dad… Uhm… C-Can I…?" 

Mike opened the door wider and Mundy stepped in. 

"Micky!" Caroline crossed the room and hugged her son. "How are you, sweetie?" 

"Yeah, not bad… Uh, I brought you these." He handed her the bag. 

"What is it?"

"Pastries. It's not much but I hope you guys will like them." 

Mike passed them and sat on the sofa, watching TV. 

"Ooh, you shouldn't have, Micky, it's very sweet of you. You know what? Come with me in the kitchen, we'll make some tea to eat them with."

"Right…" 

Mundy removed his boots and sleeveless jacket before following his mother. When they entered the kitchen, Caroline shut the door and put on her apron.

"So, how've you been with Dad?"

"Not too bad," She readied a kettle. "He had an appointment with the doctor yesterday."

"Oh, everythin' alright?" 

"Yeah, don't worry. It's a usual check on his leg. Tires him quite a bit sometimes. Though, we're lucky it's summer now. It's much worse in winter. Sweetie, would you grab the cups for me?" 

"Sure, where..?"

"Top left… Yep, there we go…" Caroline put a tray on the table and Mundy added the cups. "Now let's add the sugar and milk… Here's a plate for you, put your pastries there." 

"Sure…"

And just like that, Mundy found himself decades younger, just helping out his mother in the kitchen. Oh he liked it so much… It was in those moments that he could speak more freely, as his father was far away and busy most of the time. He would empty his heart about his problems, what annoyed him or what was on his mind. Caroline usually found the words and talked him out of his rage, his frustration and his problems. Now that he thought about it, Mundy realised that Lucien was exactly that. He had the ability to make him speak out his trouble, put it into words and tear it out of himself.

"Oooh, that looks amazing, Micky, come on, let's go with your dad." 

"I'll take it, Mum, don't worry." Mundy took the tray for his mother. 

"Good boy, thank you dear…" She tapped her son's arm. She would tap his shoulder but the size difference made it easier to reach his arm than his shoulder.

Both mother and son joined Mike in the living-room. Caroline sat on the sofa next to her husband while Mundy took a seat on the nearby armchair. 

"Look at this, Mike. Micky brought us nice little pastries." Caroline poured the tea on the cups and added the milk and sugar for everyone, like a reflex. 

"Mh." Mike switched off the TV screen and took the cup that his wife was handing him. 

"How've you been, Dad?" Mundy asked and he took his cup. Mike raised his brown eyes through frowning, bushy eyebrows, and lowered them again to his cup of tea. Mundy's eyes went to his mother as he blushed, and back to his father. 

"Why did you come, Mundy?" Mike asked. 

"I uh… I want to have a chat with you both." Mundy put his cup back on the coffee table and wiped his sweaty, trembling hands on his trousers. 

"About what this time?"

Mundy sighed but let it fly. 

"I'm sorry, Dad." Mike's salt and pepper eyebrows jumped. "And I'm very sorry for you too, Mum. I uh… I didn't realise how badly you fell ill after the fire. I uh… I wish I could have been there to help you… both." 

Caroline gave a distraught smile and Mundy lowered his eyes. 

"I… Please tell me what happened, everythin', from that day to today." He asked. 

There was a moment of silence before Mike leaned back on the sofa and, still frowning, he nodded to himself. 

"Why d'you wanna know?" 

"Because it's important. I wanna… I wanna talk to you again, I wanna visit, I want to know you and I feel like there's heaps of things that happened between then I now. I want to understand you both and I feel like this would help… Right?" 

Caroline's eyes went from her son to her husband. 

"Right." Mike answered. "But I think I told you everythin' already. We've been through hell and back, your mum and I. Tryin' to survive, trying to stay hidden from that bloke cause Maurice warned us against him and we believed him. If not for him, we wouldn't be walkin' this Earth."

Mundy listened carefully. 

"It was hard. Harder than anythin' we've done before and… There were nights where I genuinely thought your Mum wouldn't make it to see the light of day."

"I'm so sorry…" Mundy hunched his back. "I so wish I could've helped…" 

"What would you have done?" Mike asked. "You were livin' with us, eatin' with us. You were homeless as much as we were, but at least you had the van." 

"Yeah but I'd have stayed by your side, I'd have stayed with Mum at night if you wanted to sleep, I - ugh….." Mundy sighed. "I'd have gone through hell with you. Look, Dad, I know we've never understood each other, but going through that together might have helped." 

"So you would have stayed with us to get along with me, huh?" 

"No, that's not what I meant, I mean… I'd have gotten a job and got the money for all three of us, you wouldn't have had to help Maurice out to get food and shelter…!"

"You could have done that before the fire, eh? You could have looked for a decent, proper job, and helped pay the bills." 

Mundy saw it coming… 

"Dad, I know, I could have, and maybe I should have, but I can't change what I did back then."

"Yeah, damn shame you can't." Mike answered, shaking his head.

"When I learnt about the fire, I came rushing back home, only finding firemen trying their best to put it out. I volunteered to go inside and get you guys out, but the firemen held me back. When the police arrived, they had to handcuff me and lock me up in their car for me to stop trying to go in. I yelled and cried and no one heard me but myself. I tried breaking the window of the police car, headbuttin' it and kicking it with my boots, but it didn't work. All it got me was a nasty bump on my head." 

"Hm." Mike answered, unimpressed. 

"When they extinguished it and it was safe, they got me out of the car, still handcuffed, and told me that they'd found you but couldn't have saved you. They said the fumes made you lose consciousness first so you didn't go painfully… I… It broke me." Mundy looked up at his father. 

"Same for us. It broke our house, our farm, our income, everythin'." Mike said. 

"Everything but you." Caroline corrected. "I was delighted that you weren't caught in the fire but… What got me ill was both the fact that we became homeless overnight and tracked down by people who really wanted us dead, and also the fact that I would never be able to see you, ever again." Caroline took a handkerchief and wiped a tear. "Micky… I've missed you…" 

Mundy went to the sofa, next to his mother, and hugged her. 

"I've missed you too, Mum… Maurice told me about you, about how sick you were. He told me about Dad stayin' with you until he barely had any strength left in him to do it any longer. He told me you helped the poor durin' the day but the nights were hard for you, cause you were so scared." 

"Yeah…" Caroline said, still wrapped in her son's arms and hugging him back. "At night I'd be more scared, the nightmares were unbearable. I used to see it all happen again but with horrible endings…"

"Here, you have it." Mike said. "And you said Maurice told you everything. So why ask us?"

"Because I want to hear it from you! Dad, I know you never understood me but please, please, for Mum's sake, let's just have a decent chat and not fight again." 

"I'm not the one mentionin' fightin'." Mike answered and crossed his arms on his chest. "So what've you been up to during all these years then? You said you weren't hunting anymore?"

Mundy released his hug on his mother and let her catch some air. He sat back on the armchair and cleared his throat. 

"I… It killed me to see you go. I couldn't eat or sleep for days. I lived in the van for the ten first years. I got my showers in the lake and washed my clothes there. First thing I did though, was to bury everythin' that had to do with hunting. I ditched it all in a box and buried it in the desert. Let it rust and rot there." 

Mike's eyebrow twitched. 

"What did you do? Got a job?" 

"N-no… Not really. I barely ate once, maybe twice a day on days where my stomach was hurtin' too much. I spent my days sometimes locked down in the van from dawn to dusk."

"You didn't look for another job? Play some music somewhere?" Caroline asked with kind eyes. 

"No."

"Why?" She asked. 

"I couldn't. I was… dead, inside, for ten years. I'd only come to town to pick up a sandwich or some coffee."

"So you've been doin' nothing for ten years…?" Mike insisted with as much disappointment in his eyes as in the tone of his voice. 

Mundy didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and thought about Lucien's words. Do it for Mum, do it for Mum, do it for Mum… He opened his eyes again and stared at his mother for an instant to summon the energy to face his father. 

"I… couldn't, Dad. I might as well have been dead and it would've been the same." Mundy answered and clenched his teeth. "I was stuck on that day. Every day I opened my eyes in the mornin' and cried because I realised it wasn't just a nightmare, it was real. You really weren't there anymore. Ironically, that's when I needed you most. I wanted to talk to you, to just hear your voice, to - to do anythin' with you, even if it was just get mad and fight…" Mundy answered. 

"I'm sorry, Micky, I've always wanted to contact you, to let you know we were alive but…" Caroline started. 

"But I refused." Mike finished. 

"I don't understand…" Mundy frowned. 

"O'course you wouldn't!" Mike answered. "You have no idea what it means to be tracked down. You like to be at the other end of the barrel usually, eh? But I did that for your Mum and you! Maybe if you get a family one day, you'll get it. But eh…"

"But it's fine." Mundy finished. "I don't understand, but I… I respect it. And no, I don't know what it feels like to be a walkin' target, but I know what it feels like to have your loved ones in danger, so I get that you wanted to protect Mum… and me, maybe." 

"Course I wanted to protect you!" Mike burst out. "You're my son bloody hell! I worked all my life for you and your Mum! I broke my back for you, we got you and decided to raise you! We could have called child services and got rid of you, but no! We wanted to keep you! I told your Mum, maybe this is an angel sent by God, and your Mum agreed! But no… The angel had to grow up and shoot down blokes who hunt for animals. Why? Cause no one else is gonna save those beasts…? And who's gonna save your Mum and I? Who did save us? Maurice, Maurice of all people, a guy who takes care of feeding a family bigger than we'll ever get, he saved us. Not you, not the little baby we took in and raised like our own son, not the man we saw grow up into a crazed gunman!"

"Dad!" Mundy burst out. "Would you just… stop it?!" 

Caroline put a hand on her face and shook her head. It had started well and for a second she really thought they wouldn't fight… 

"Stop it and let me finish! I didn't interrupt you when you said everythin' you wanted, I didn't stop you when you blamed me again, I never ever stopped you whenever you put me down like that!" 

Mundy's voice sliced through the thick air in the room and the silence that followed was heavy to bear for everyone. 

"Right…" He gathered his thoughts and his courage again. "So yeah, I put my rifles, kukris and everythin' under the ground and I could have added my own self! The only reason why I didn't do it was because it would have killed Mum if she knew."

"Your mother was dead." Mike answered. 

"I know!" Mundy roared. "But still! I had respect for her!" 

"Not for me, eh?" 

"Yeah, no, that's not what I meant… Arh…" Mundy lowered his head and when he raised it again, he took a deep breath and sighed. "I put my rifles and all my life in the ground. I walked the Earth going from one day to the next, waitin' for I don't know what." Mundy explained. 

"You…" Caroline's voice made it lighter for everyone and more bearable. "You stayed like that until a few days ago?" She asked and Mundy looked at her kindly. His eyes were tired, tired of having to justify himself in front of his Dad, tired of having to show that he was trying his best, tired of seeing that his best was far from good enough in Mike's eyes. 

"No." He answered. "I stayed like that for ten years. My life changed, about a year ago now." 

"What happened?" 

Mundy took a deep breath and saw his father's unconvinced eyes. 

Do it for Mum, do it for Mum, do it for Mum, do it for Mum…

He knew that the next part of the story would not please him.

[anneshirleycuffbert]

the space between the letters: the Avonlea girls take on Queen’s

[if you’ve been following me, you know I’ve posted shirbert letters; this is a awae short/fic of what happens between their letters. since I can’t wait for season four and wanted to know how the girls fare at Queen’s, I decided to write my own personal snippet-of-their lives shortly after the events of the season three finale. I hope you enjoy it as I’ve enjoyed writing it!]

click here to access an index to my awae shorts/letters

The Space Between the Letters: The Avonlea Girls Take on Queen’s aka Cuffing Season

The Avonlea girls were having tea in the parlor on a crisp autumn afternoon. The sound of hushed conversation following a rush of laughter chimed through the Blackmore house, and fortunately the volume was not improper as to warrant the mistress of the house herself to leave the confines of her study to reprimand them. 

Jane Andrews was the center of attention, for just an hour before tea, two of Queen’s fine students had unfortunately come knocking at the same time. It was rather mortifying for Jane to have to entertain two suitors in the parlor with Mrs Blackmore in the study situated right next to it and the girls spying at the top of the staircase, hands clutching at the rails. She knew she was being watched on account that she had done the very same with her friends when Moody Spurgeon visited Ruby Gillis just the day before to play her a song he composed and planned to present at the Winter Ball in a few months. Now being on the other side of the staircase and in the parlor herself, Jane felt rather sorry for invading the couple’s privacy. 

The moment the boys stepped out of the elegant house and Jane clicked the door closed, the girls descended the staircase like a stampede of farm animals. They were promptly scolded by Mrs Blackmore then, and they all shuffled as quietly as they could manage to the parlor. 

The girls sat at the table in silence as Jane poured tea for each of her friends. Once everyone had stirred in their preferred amount of sugar and milk, and gently placed their spoons delicately on their saucers as Mrs Blackmore instructed a lady should, their eyes turned to Jane Andrews expectantly. 

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” she exclaimed, pulling her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. Immediately, the questions flooded out of their lips and soaked the room. 

“What did they say to each other?” said Tilly Boulter. 

“What did they say to you?” inquired Diana Barry. 

“Did they ask to court you, at the same time?” demanded Ruby Gillis. 

Josie Pye laughed. “Their faces were almost as red as Anne’s hair!”

The room erupted into fits of laughter, and even Anne Shirley-Cuthbert found amusement in her former enemy’s words. 

Diana, however, had not yet warmed up to Josie and her humor, and faithfully defended the honor of her bosom friend. “We can all see Anne’s hair has darkened into a handsome auburn, Josie. And besides, many of the boys at Queen’s have taken notice of Anne because of her hair.”

“Oh, never mind about me,” Anne laughed, colouring, but she would later thank her dear Diana for defending her. “Jane, tell us everything!”

Jane recovered her usual straight face, with a ghost of a smile on her lips and a telling blush spread on her complexion. “There’s nothing very interesting to tell, really.”

After much prodding, Jane revealed the suitors to be Richard Cordell and Leroy Murphy. Both were in Jane’s mathematics class and admired her for her wit and intellect. She was one of the few students who could finish the math problem sets in record time, and one of the even fewer girls in class who would speak up to answer the professor’s questions. 

Ruby was not satisfied. “But what did they say to you? How did they compliment you?”

Jane, remembering she had spied on Ruby and Moody, felt compelled to make up for it despite the fact that Ruby had just done the same. “Richard said he has yet to see anyone who has eyes as gold or as handsome as mine,” she reluctantly revealed. The girls stayed impressively calm, waiting for her to continue. “And Leroy said that I give off the same air as a sunflower and his day brightens when he sees me.”

The girls burst into squeals of delight and Jane’s indifferent expression cracked, revealing a pleased and bashful grin, but not before harshly whispering: “Quiet, or Mistress Mang will come and finish us off for sure and certain!”

-

Now in the back garden of the Blackmore property, the girls had laid out blankets on the grass. Anne and Diana were lying side by side gazing at the cloud formations in the gorgeous blue sky that was slowly turning a purplish-pink, hinting of a beautiful sunset to come. The breeze was getting cooler as the days passed, so Anne was determined to cherish these evenings where they could lounge outside without fear of catching colds and potentially their deaths. She reveled at the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds, missing the ones she friended at Avonlea.

“Dearest Diana, thank you for defending my honor and my hair earlier,” Anne smiled, turning to her bosom friend and squeezing her hand. 

“I meant what I said,” said Diana, squeezing back. “It’s a very handsome auburn now but even before it was a pleasant shade of red. That Josie Pye–“

“–is our friend now,” Anne interjected. “And since we are her friends, we need to make allowances for her. Sometimes.”

“Not even Aunt Josephine would be able to afford all the allowances we will have to make for her,” Diana sighed. “But I suppose you’re right.”

A comfortable silence enveloped them until Anne remembered Gilbert, and because Diana was kindred to Anne’s spirit, she knew when the silence whispered of worry. 

“I’m sure he’s sent a letter to you, Anne. It’s probably just been delayed in reaching you.”

“What if he changed his mind?” Anne groaned, unable to bear the thought of losing Gilbert again. Certainly there were girls more beautiful and brilliant than she at U of T, she thought. “Diana, be honest. Do you think he’s changed his mind? About me?”

Diana turned to look at her friend with a knowing, mischievous smile. “After the way he kissed you that day when all was revealed? Not a chance.”

Anne’s natural rosy complexion darkened. “I– we– you– Ah!” Anne bolted upright, discovering that it was possible to feel immense joy and painful embarrassment at the same time.

Diana laughed, sitting up as well. “I’m serious! And from your description of the kisses the two of you shared before I arrived, I would be astonished if he would dare change his mind. And don’t think I hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you before he jumped off the carriage to kiss you. Twice, if you happen to recall.”

The problem was Anne did recall. When all was quiet in her mind, she’d find her thoughts drifting to a brilliant, wonderful boy whose lips have stained her memory forever. She missed him. And, okay, she missed kissing him, too. But what she missed the most was the way he looked at her, made her feel when he looked at her. The way he smiled at her. His smile. His brilliance. Him. Gilbert. She missed him. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert sorely missed Gilbert Blythe. 

“I can’t believe it finally happened,” sighed Diana. “You and Gilbert Blythe were destined from the start to be together. He better have a good reason for his delayed response, or I’d have a good mind to scold him. Again.”

“I’ve no doubt you would,” Anne mused, so grateful for Diana’s part in bringing them together. 

Jane Andrews and Josie Pye bounded out the backdoor each holding a basket of fruit and joined them on their blanket spread. 

“Girls, I need your advice,” Jane moaned. “How do you choose between two boys?” She sat beside Josie, both girls crossing their legs. “Ruby said to go for the most handsome and Josie said to go for the most kind.”

Anne glanced at Josie, who was laughing at Jane’s distress. She couldn’t help but feel pride bloom in her chest for Josie Pye, who had come out of the worst of the scandal with Billy. Josie had a quieter demeanor, now, and had grown to be more thoughtful. Choosing a beau for their kindness over their looks was something Josie would never have considered a few months earlier. But Anne was as hurt as she was proud for her, for the sad happenstance that Josie Pye learned this beautiful lesson of love over a tragedy that she’d carry for the rest of her life. Much like she carried the despairing events of her orphan life, although they seldom came to her mind these days. Anne was hopeful that one day Josie would not be overcome by the painful memory of Billy and the shame he brought on her.

Ruby, however, had a ways to go in the way she viewed love and suitors. But Moody and her were courting now, and they were good for each other. Anne prayed with all her heart that it would turn out well. 

“If you could find it in yourself to think the most kind boy is the most handsome, then I think that would be ideal,” Josie said. 

“I agree,” Diana smiled at Josie sincerely. “When someone is good in heart, they become more beautiful than the one who is devilishly handsome with no virtue to their merit.” 

“Well, as of right now, who do you like more?” inquired Anne. 

“I don’t know,” Jane shrugged. “I’ve only talked to them briefly a few times before they came calling. I never would’ve thought they’d ask to court me!”

“So that’s your next move,” Anne nodded, brows furrowed in thought. “Get to know them both before deciding. And if one of them quits their pursuit of your worthy heart before you make your decision, then you know he’s not worthy of your love.”

Tilly Boulter, Ruby Gillis, and Lily arrived with a platter of chicken salad sandwiches cut up into delicate triangles, joining the rest of the group sitting in a circle. A gust of wind threatened to blow away their hats that were pinned to their hair.

Lily, deaf and mute and gentle and kind, actions speaking louder than words could scream, was happily adopted into the friend group. Mrs Blackmore considered Lily their chaperone when necessary, not trusting half the girls to be proper in public, while the Avonlea girls considered Lily their older sister. The moment she caught them staying up late the second night at Queen’s to practice sign language in the living area was the moment Lily knew she loved them. Her eyes now followed them with curiosity and wonder.

“Can you believe the number of boys that have been visiting lately?” giggled Ruby, nibbling on her triangle of sandwich. “We have all been called to the parlor by Mang because of a suitor. So many of them have come and it’s not even the third week of class!”

“Yes, and I wish they would stop visiting so frequently,” Anne laughed, half meaning it. She hadn’t minded when boys came calling for her friends, but it was an awkward situation when they came to visit her. The first time was flattering, but the last few times were excruciating because it would always remind her of Gilbert and how he could not come calling like the Queen’s boys. The girls, however, found it ever so exciting that quite a number of Queen’s students took notice of them, especially Anne, and it made them feel a sense of pride and camaraderie as they all represented Avonlea. Since their arrival at Queen’s, Avonlea had earned a reputation for raising some of the most charming, handsome, and bright girls the Island would encounter– the latter attribute an influence of Miss Stacey, who missed them dearly. 

“Anne, have you heard from Gilbert?” Tilly inquired, and the girls curiously looked at the girl in question. 

They were shocked to hear the news that Gilbert had sacrificed a sensational life in Paris with beautiful Winifred in order to study at the University of Toronto. Since they had reacted so severely, Anne was wise to wait two days before revealing that Gilbert was now courting her. She had worried of Ruby’s reaction, whether she would be angry or upset given her past infatuation of him, but her eyes were now fixated on a sweet, charismatic banjo-playing scholar. In fact, next to Diana, Ruby was the most excited for the new couple. But then again, Ruby was always enraptured in all things pertaining to love and romance. Nevertheless, Anne was grateful that the girls found her and Gilbert a solid pair. 

As for Charlie Sloane, who took notice of Anne a few months ago, he had quickly adapted to the prospects of Queen’s and rumor had it that he had taken notice of a student who was from Carmody.

“No,” Anne replied curtly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Not yet, but I will.”

Lily reached over to hold Anne’s hand. She had been so touched by the girls’ retelling of Anne and Gilbert’s history as they walked to the postal office two weeks prior, and she looked forward to meeting the legendary Gilbert Blythe.

“Don’t worry, Anne,” Josie offered. “If things don’t work out between the two of you, there are a handful of boys here that have expressed interest in you. They were sorely disappointed to find out you were not available to court.”

Josie spoke with good intention, but it rubbed Anne the wrong way and rubbed in the fact that Gilbert was so far away. She refrained from saying anything, only replied with a tight smile.

Just then, the familiar whistling of the postal worker drifted from the front of the house to their ears. Anne’s eyes met Diana’s, and within five seconds, all of the girls were sprinting around the side of the house to the front door, laughing excitedly. Lily calmly walked as she knew Mrs Blackmore would not be pleased if she witnessed the scene. 

“Ah, ladies!” old Mr Sanderson smiled upon seeing the youthful girls, tipping his hat as a greeting. “I have mail to deliver here. Now let’s see…” he trailed off as he rifled through his satchel, pulling out three envelopes, one a brown manila envelope, and two standard sized cream-coloured ones. 

“One for Mrs Blackmore–“

“I can take it to her,” Anne impatiently grabbed one of the standard envelopes from the old man. He didn’t notice her desperation. “Anything else?”

“Well, we have a letter… oh! From the University of Toronto– for a Miss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

Anne froze, nerves tingling up and down her spine as her breath caught. Somehow, she lifted her hand to receive the manila envelope with a strange bump protruding inside it. “That’s for me, sir. Thank you.” 

The girls squealed in excitement, but Anne did not dare look at the sender’s name written on the top left corner of the envelope, although she knew it must say “Gilbert Blythe” because who else could it be from?

Anne faintly heard the last recipient, Tilly Boulter, but could not remember anything else after. 

Lily gracefully delivered Mrs Blackmore’s letter to her private study knowing Anne was too preoccupied at current, and Anne had not heard Diana shepherding the girls back to the backyard to give Anne privacy to read Gilbert’s letter to her. 

When she finally held it up and found that the letter was, indeed, from Gilbert Blythe, she felt her heart race. 

Anne hurried to sit on her favorite bench placed under the willow tree to the right of the house, trying to ignore the fact that she passed the spot where Gilbert and her had kissed weeks ago. She inhaled a deep breath of cooling air before opening the envelope, remembering the personal things of her heart and the feelings she expressed in her letter to Gilbert, and Anne prepared herself for his response to her follow-up question.  (Click here to read Letter 1: Anne’s letter to Gilbert) 

Exhaling, she unfolded the letter. 

-  

(Click here to read Letter 2: Gilbert’s letter to Anne)

-

Anne had read Gilbert’s letter five more times and pinched herself five times more before she rejoined the jolly group in the backyard, now packing up their picnic and heading inside. 

The girls couldn’t help but notice that Anne was in the same mysterious mood she was in the day they moved in to the Blackmore house. They knew it had everything to do with an old classmate who was now a medical student in Toronto but they said and asked nothing of Anne, allowing her to process and feel what needed to be processed and felt. 

She was unusually quieter than usual, for a longer period than usual, and Diana would have been more worried if not for the sparkle in Anne’s eyes and the slightly higher lift of her chin as she moved about in her silence. 

The two young scholars were finishing their homework in the bedroom they shared, sitting at their respective desks. Diana had been conjugating a set of French verbs when Anne spoke up. 

“He loves me,” she said, voice trembling. Diana left her desk to stand beside Anne who was sitting at her own, staring at the letter spread atop it. Anne looked up to meet her friend’s tender brown eyes with her own teary gray ones. “Gilbert loves me.”

“Of course he does,” Diana asserted, putting her hand on Anne’s shoulder. She remembered how Anne had cried when she told her she loved her the first time, and felt a pull at her heart that her bosom friend had now been blessed with romantic love, too. Diana felt that Anne deserved all the love in the world and was grateful that Gilbert was one of the few people who could and would supply it justly to her. 

“He loves me,” repeated Anne, beginning to cry. A tsunami of emotion spilled from her eyes and waves of shock, relief, elation, disbelief, joy, longing, and love broke Anne’s proper demeanor, reminding the both of them they were still girls. Their arms captured each other in a tight iron grip, and Anne cried into her bosom friend for a few minutes, the sound summoning the group of friends who were now fearful they misunderstood Anne’s mood and were afraid that something dreadful had happened. Diana smiled at them and nodded her head, assuring them silently that everything was alright. 

Tilly shut the door quietly and the sound of footsteps receded into the hall. The sharp tapping of Mrs Blackmore’s feet came bounding up the stairs. Within a few seconds, she knocked on the door and entered. 

“Girls, are you alright, I heard– oh goodness me, what’s happened here? Anne, why are you crying?”

“These are happy tears, Mrs Blackmore,” she sniffled. “I’m quite alright, thank you. I received the best news.”

The mistress Mang sighed a breath of relief. “Be mindful now of your tears. It isn’t ladylike to cry so, but you are at liberty to cry as much as you like here. Be sure to wash your face or you’ll be puffy in the morning.”

“Yes, Mrs Blackmore.”

“Good evening, ladies.”

The door shut again and Anne and Diana sat on the nearest bed. 

“Oh Anne, I’m so glad for you.”

“I can hardly believe it- Gilbert loves me– is in love with me! But I suppose he must love me to kiss me and to have kissed me in the manner and amount that he did,” Anne said, laughing in reference to their earlier conversation.  

“All is well then?” asked Diana, looking fondly at her friend. 

Anne nodded, smiling at the thought of Gilbert and his heartfelt letter.  “All is well and good in the world.”

“Let me know if you ever need to speak with me, about anything,” Diana squeezed Anne’s hand. 

“Thank you, dearest of Dianas. I will.”

Anne leaned back on her bed and watched Diana return to her desk and flip her French dictionary open. An idea bloomed in her mind, and she sat upright. 

“Say, Diana, would you happen to have a book containing foreign languages vocabulary? I’ve decided to engage in a long-distance duel with Gilbert Blythe and I am determined to beat him, fair and square.”

[yfere]

Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E67

A Battle heavy episode, but not one without its Shipping Moments! Thank you to @alarnia, @softazelma, and @drinkingdeadpeopletea for helping with data entry. Masterpost here.

+23 to Caleb/Jester/The Silver Thread of Fate They get equal credit as Caleb did this with Jester’s suggestions and guidance, even choosing the ankle—then the pinky to tie everyone together with! They knew what they were doing. This is polynein at work, my friends.

+15 to Caleb/Channeling His Inner Druid as he polymorphs into a spider, and a giant eagle, and in general has seemed to decide that he much prefers being an animal to a human wizard being.

+16 to Caleb/Caduceus …An inclination which happens to be very compatible with a Caduceus romance, as dear Cads is the only one Not Quite A Druid!Caleb can understand when he’s being his dumbo polymorphed self. These two did pretty well on the Battle Points—despite a few missed opportunities Caduceus did Bless the Spider, and Caduceus is very, very appreciative of Caleb’s searching the Spider Lair. Caduceus in general trying to stick by Caleb, though point loss for Caleb rebuffing him by insisting that the blind folks Should Not Be Beside Each Other. Both of them sharing an attitude of respect for the dead…

+6 to Jester/Caduceus…and Jester makes an effort to respect the dead as well, when asking for Caduceus’ advice on the optics of stealing an angel skull to interrogate. Some Battle Points with Jester also smashing up attacking spiders and so on, Caduceus confusedly letting Eagle!Jester carry him to safety and staying by the door until she herself was safe.

+8 to Caleb/Jester which would be more, what with Caleb tossing all Keys and Goods in her direction, them both turning into Eagles together, Caleb hanging on every suggestion of Jester’s and staying behind even while on death’s door himself to make sure she made it back safely and Fireball her foes…however, there is no better way to drain all the points out of a ship then to reject hand holding when it’s offered to you. Shame on you, Jester!

-1 to The Mighty Nein/No Jester Left Behind Act as Eagle!Jester rescues literally everyone—Nott, Caduceus, Yasha—to be, once again, the last to get to safety, the closest to being left behind. Points gained for Caduceus and Caleb hanging out by the door for her

+5 to Nott/Never Letting Shit Go as she pokes at Caleb by asking if they’re going to do the thing where they take scrolls without telling anyone else. The day Nott fails to bring up old drama is the day she has been murdered and replaced with a doppelganger.

+0 to Fjord/Jester/Caleb as Fjord says he “always loves doing two at a time” (!!!!!!) and working together with Caleb to craft the perfect message for Oban. Unfortunately, point loss as Fjord is also Horrified And Not At All Pleased with Jester and Caleb’s Eagle! antics, since all animals Especially Those Resembling Rocs in Fjord’s book are to Be Hated And Feared. As such this episode births the first Anti Ship Mascot.

+13 to Nott/Yasha Surprisingly, these two actually have an excellent week. Despite Nott continuing to interrogate Yasha over her flask, Yasha is sweetly protective of Nott and draws her sword to the sound of Nott’s distress. She is the most effusive in complimenting Nott’s Murdering Skill, and adorably offers her own title of the Orphanmaker up for Nott to use—and then they talk about making a band of it! Iconic.

+6 to Beau/Yasha/Jester as they all blow and use their cloaks to beat back the fog while looking for traps, though they didn’t exactly succeed in their stated purpose

-25 to the Mighty Nein/Traps Of course, at this point it’s more surprising for them to not set off a trap than the other way around, but between Nott getting characteristically caught in webbing, Fjord setting off an electronic trap that nearly killed everyone, and Beau and Nott both making noise to disturb an awful psychic nightmare of a cliffside trap, twas a particularly awful week for this group.

+11 to Fjord/Jester as they have a great, if understated week, with Jester doing relatively well on the Battle Points those times when she prioritizes smashing up/fooling spiders and zombies attacking Fjord, and Fjord thinking her zombie murdering skills are amazing. Fjord is also very sweet about not wanting Jester to feel like she’s wasting her spells knowing that she always worries about just that, Jester worries (justifiably) over Fjord pressing forward alone, and with Fjord attempting to join Jester and co’s band with his sightreading skills. Point loss for apparently not actually being able to sightread, Fjord your powerful pokerface is why no one trusts you, you know that right? Also point loss for Jester once more taking joy in Fjord’s squeamishness over spider egg sacs.

-20 to Caleb/Penetration as he Shields that suggestively-placed stinging protrusion from the demon-spider! Take him out to dinner first, you animal (somewhere he isn’t on the menu)! Admittedly Caleb turning into a charming spider in response may have sent a couple of mixed messages, but the Queen Spider was murdered before anyone had the chance to find out whether it would have gone anywhere

+10 to Beau/Jester as through pure Sapphic Intuition they identify a hole in the ground before anyone else. Them goofing off and spelling their names in the fog, Beau missing Jester’s unicorns, and them discussing body farms, that most romantic of detectively topics.

+7 to Jester/Nott and -10 to Jester/Anatomy as Jester is now imitating Nott’s thunking breasts pantomime when talking about “big racks.” Jester discussing Buttons, rescuing Nott in eagle form, and alongside Yasha being Incredibly Though Ineffectively Supportive of Sober!Nott, similar Battle Couple Shenanigans of Jester popping zombies like balloons while Nott uses her mage hand to scoop up the hearts for the Creepy Puzzle Door.

+18 to Beau/Yasha as it is Shipping Law that tearing out monster hearts together is Peak Date Material, not to mention them coordinating killing/heart-snatching moves with Peak Battle Couple Efficiency, and Yasha being Very Impressed with Beau’s ability to quickly finish the lightning trap with the power of her fists. Those are some talented hands Beau has there

+3 to Beau/Unnecessary Apologies as she apparently thinks she needs to say “sorry” for not having stolen Nott’s flask. Sorry. She didn’t. Steal Nott’s flask. And then gifts her the last drops of her family’s wine. Beau!

-4 the Mighty Nein/Spoilers This week Oban is looking out for them and preserving their sense of surprise, with only a vague “be careful” as a warning of what is to come

+2 to Fjord/Caduceus as Caduceus defends Fjord’s caution to the rest of the group, and them intently seeking Bindings of One Kind Or Another together. Sadly, their potential to gain more points was cut off by Fjord deciding not to take first watch with Caduceus after all.

-2 to Nott/One-liners as she feels the need to downgrade the coolness factor of her terrifying one-shot finishing blows by stumbling over jokes with no punchline, demonstrating maybe one thing suffering with her newfound sobriety +2 to the Mighty Nein/Totally Not Anachronisms for Nott inventing the internet, though.

+16 to Jester/Yasha as these two continue to be embarrassingly adorable at all times, with Yasha complimenting the blue feathers of Jester’s Eagle form while being rescued, and alongside Nott discussing the Orphanmakers band together. Jester defending Yasha first in battle with the spiders, and Yasha adorably thanking her for the lollipop assistance afterwards.

+8 to Caleb/Fjord as the Full Spectrum of Fireball Shipping Power was used, ranging from using it to save Fjord and the rest from Baby Spider Hell and earning a “that’s hot” from Fjord which, can be interpreted in many interesting ways, to Caleb’s fireball destroying a bunch of zombies but nonetheless ruining the moment and losing points for getting Fjord slapped around by torn-up limbs. Fjord pulling a Classic Fjord Ship Maneuver in yelling at people not letting Caleb do His Thing. Caleb, for his part, pulling a Classic Romance Novel Maneuver by crashing into Fjord on the stairs and saying hello in a supremely awkward manner. Sadly not many classic Battle Points, with *sighs* pragmatism in target choice getting in the way.

+1 to Fjord/Spiders We all know Fjord has a tendency to fuck things he’s frightened of, but unfortunately this week he was not willing to take a full action to do so in battle. Too many eyes on him, apparently.

-500000 to Sam Riegel/His Presidential Campaign At this point, Sam’s official flag should be his white burial shroud tied to a stick and waved around in surrender #VoteWithYourJohnson #LiamForPresident

[libertasrpg]

We welcome Jessica Cannary to the city. She’s 31 years old and is a horse riding instructor. Jessie is often mistaken for Deborah Ann Woll. She’s open.

→ Background Information

Jessica has already lived through troubles. After a very rocky and emotionally manipulative relationship with her ex-girlfriend came to an end, she decided she needed to leave her hometown and move to somewhere new. Little did she realise how good this really would be for her. Jessie found herself a new group of friends (Woody, Beau and Buzz) and was miles happier. Having grown up with her grandparents living on a farm, wherever Jessica lived, she tried to work with animals - Preferably horses. How exactly varies but she always does her best. Thankfully she’s also now got people in her life who always support this.

→ Relocation Explanation

The relocation was discussed initially as Woody was planning to move town, and Buzz and Jessie couldn’t bear to see him go. They were each others lives. It came at a good time for Jessie though. Her girlfriend had just broken up with her so she needed something to get her mind off that. Who doesn’t love a drastic life change after the end of a relationship? A new city and a new start was the perfect remedy for a broken heart.

→ Living Situation

The boys were originally planning on living together which left Jessie feeling quite glum. She never let on that she hated the thought of moving to the new city and living alone, but she did. Thankfully though, Buzz and Woody realised that it’d actually probably be best if they didn’t share a space. Jessie was delighted. It means she gets to share an apartment with bestie Woody. Jessie is very much the boss of the house. While she’s very manic in the way she runs the place, she still has to remind Woody to sort his stuff out. When it comes to her personal space, it’s all very natural. The colour scheme is incredibly autumnal and the walls are plastered with pictures of friends.

→ Her Personality

You’ll hear Jessie coming before you see her. She’s loud, brazen, and isn’t sorry about it either. Jessie’s also known to be quite rambunctious and incredibly free-spirited. She likes to run with the wind and live life on the edge. The only time you’ll catch Jessie seeming nervous though is when in small spaces, or in the dark. She suffers quite severely from claustrophobia and nyctophobia. Any situation that triggers those fears send her into vicious anxiety attacks. Her previous failed relationship means she also carried a strong sense of feeling unloved and being unloveable, but she covers this by overcompensating with extreme playfulness and throwing herself into everything. Perhaps the biggest part of Jessie’s life though is her love for horses. The total amount of hours she spends at Prince’s Yard is endless.

→ Her Qualities

Brave, extroverted, vivacious, sassy

Claustrophobic, stubborn, naive

→ Her Relationships

Woody Pride (Best friend & roommate): Woody really is family to Jessie at this point. He understands her like no one else, and she trusts him above everyone else. Her life simply wouldn’t be the same without him at this point. They met when she started looking after the police horses in Woody’s hometown. Jessie quickly noticed how he gave more attention to his horse than the other guys on the force. This immediately earned him her respect, and he’s continued earning her respect ever since.

Buzz Nesbitt (Friend & potential love interest): Jessie has a fun friendship with Buzz. There’s a lot of playful teasing, but it’s obvious that they both do actually care for each other. There has been some time since the break up of Jessie’s last relationship but there are still some trust issues that she has. This is the main reason why she’s found herself so reluctant to let something beautiful develop between Buzz and herself.

Beau Peep (Ex-friend): Beau and Jessie got along like a house on fire. They provisionally bonded through the boys. They kept each other sane while Woody and Buzz went wild. But the pair soon grew to have a genuine friendship though. They were each other’s ride-or-die. This was why it broke Jessie’s heart when Beau left. Typically better at getting along with men, Jessie was gutted that the first woman she’d ever developed a friendship with was gone from her life.

→ Possible Connections

Barbara Roberts (Friend): There isn’t a lot that Jessica knows about Barbara. They’re still in the very early days of their friendship. Jessie knows that she’s friendly with Buzz though - So she stays friendly with her. This is partly because she wants to be friends with Buzz’s friends, and also partly to make sure there’s nothing going on between Barbara and Buzz.

Fawn Hawk (Acquaintance): Both working with animals, it’s likely that Jessie and Fawn will have crossed paths once or twice at the vets. In fact, it’s highly possible that they cross paths more often than that. They are both people who care immensely for animals.

Kenneth Carson (Friend): Kenneth isn’t the typical kind of guy that Jessie would find herself befriending. Like with many others though, Jessie is nice to him because he’s a friend of Barbara’s - And Woody and Buzz also know him. That gives her even more reason to be nice.

→ Faceclaim Change:

Allowed | Not allowed | POC must | Discuss with admin

Suggestions: TBA

Jessica is based on Jessie the Yodelling Cowgirl from the Toy Story franchise.

[bluboothalassophile]

Love all of your jayrae fics! Was wondering if you would please be able to write a fix about raven and Roy's friendship or how they get along?

Hello,

I actually have a long story for them going, Yee Naaldlooshi, so I hope you enjoy Chapter 2! 

Featuring a cross over with the Mystery Inc Gang!

The Ranch...

Raven stood in Durango, Colorado, the wind tugging on her braid as she felt ancient magic pulsing through the grounds she stood on. It was rather quaint, and beautiful here, they were at a gas station by the river, which was gently rolling on by. She leaned on the hood of the car, looking at the scenery around her, it wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen outside of old westerns.

Lian was giggling as she ran towards her, and Raven smiled as she caught the girl.

“Rae! Lookie!” she ordered holding up a keychain.

“It’s lovely sweetie,” Raven said. The pure innocent joy Lian had was infectious and soothing on Rae’s empathy.

“Daddy say I can give it to his…bwoder,” Lian said.

“Brother,” Raven corrected. “And it’ll be a lovely gift.”

“Think he’ll like me?” Lian whispered in a loud hushed tone.

“I think it’d be hard for him not to like you,” Raven said.

“Ready to hit the road ladies?” Roy appeared then.

“Yeah,” Lian giggled in delight as Raven loaded her up into the car. Twisting around Raven pulled up the buckles for the carseat and tapped Lian’s nose lightly when she was all secure; her keychain clutched firmly in her hands.

“We’re forty minutes out from Farmington, and I think twenty from your aunt’s farm,” Roy said.

Raven said nothing to that.

“Family’s not bad, Rae,” Roy pointed out starting up the car.

“I have a family,” she pointed out. “And I don’t, Roy I’ll never be able to live with myself if something happens to them because of me. At least Victor, Harley and Ivy can take care of themselves. Alice and them, they can’t.”

“Hey, I get it, but they’re your family, you’ll need to accept that one day.”

“I do accept it, which was why I was willing to stay away.”

“Family doesn’t do that, trust me, and Jason for that matter, on this. They don’t disappear just because it’d be easy or convenient for you.

“I could wish, right?” she sighed.

“No,” he chuckled. “It’ll be fine, Rae. It’ll be fun!”

Raven knew that she and Roy had drastically different opinions on what was and was not fun. She had a feeling that this was about as fun for her as Artemis and Wally’s wedding would be for Roy. Not that he had a bad relationship with his family, but rather he and Artemis butted heads all the time, and Wally was his best friend marrying a girl who was like his little sister. Rae saw the reasons for Roy’s discomfort about the wedding, but they were going.

 Once they were on the road again Raven watched the scenery as Lian talked about everything she wanted to do. She was mostly fascinated with the idea of horses, she wanted to ride one. Roy thought it was amusing and said he’d look into if Bird still had the horses for her to ride.

“You never said how you were tied to the tribes,” Raven said when Lian had fallen asleep and they drew near the Reservations. She could feel Roy’s tensions building.

“My dad, my biological dad, not Ollie, he was a Game Warden, he and my biological mom had me kind of young, it didn’t work out well. His second wife was a part of the tribe, Catherine was a sweetheart,” Roy admitted.

“What happened?”

“She died, Dad stayed on the Res with her family, so did I, and then dad died, and well, you know, I’m a fuck up,” Roy muttered the last bit more to himself than her.

“You’re not,” Raven said softly. He turned to look at her, and she smiled a bit. “We all mess up, make mistakes, do things we regret,” she said softly.

“Yeah, but, black out drunk, I think I killed Bird’s dad,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” Raven said levelly. “You’re not a killer Roy.”

“You sure about that? I am an Outlaw,” he said roguishly.

“Positive, it takes a killer to know a killer,” Raven said levelly. Roy was safe, he wasn’t afraid to take lethal action if push came to shove, but he worked so hard on not doing that. He did hand out crippling injuries, but he had never killed a single person as far as the knew.

“I think Thea and Brave Bow would disagree with you,” he said levelly.

“I don’t think so.”

“Rae, you’re not always right,” he pointed out.

“Maybe not, but I am right about this, Roy Harper. You are no killer.” She stated.

They turned onto a dusty road and Raven blinked; not seeing a street sign.

“Are you sure this is the road?” she sputtered.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“There’s no name,” she started.

“A lot of the roads aren’t marked; it’s just… just pay attention to where we’re going and we’ll be good.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Mary-Beth was bored. She was very bored.

Not that she didn’t like visiting her mother’s ranch, but she preferred life on Long Island with all her friends, and schooling.

They had come out here though for a few months, because her mom’s right hand man, John Trujillo, who was in charge of the while they were in New York, had called about a problem. Apparently an oil company wanted to take mom’s family land, so the dispute wasn’t pretty.

However, Alice had also managed to invite Rachel here for a weekend; that was a massive feat apparently which had her mother reorganizing and redecorating the guest rooms repeatedly.

The house her family lived in was built by her grandfather Alan, when he had settled in New Mexico. Her grandmother, Oolijee had refused to leave her family lands, so her grandfather had asked to build her a house. It was a massive house, seven bedrooms, five washrooms, plumbing, electricity, a huge kitchen, open porch and massive windows around to see the mountains. It was a nice house, and there were huge stables, and a nice house for the ranch hands to live in too. She knew it was nice, very nice, and well maintained, her grandfather had operated the property into a solid ranch; much to her grandmother’s delight, and kept it prosperous. It was a beautiful property, even her great-grandfather who had held nothing but disdain at best for her grandfather, had been impressed.

Mary looked up from her phone when John appeared at the foot of the stairs leading towards the house.

“Miss Roth,” he said softly.

“Mom’s in the guestrooms preparing for cousin Rachel and her friends,” she said to him. He nodded.

John Trujillo was a very intimidating man, a hard face, with dark eyes. He looked like the warriors of old honestly, even with his long hair styled like a mohawk. She didn’t understand why her mother had hired him, but the man was terrifying. So soft spoken and good with animals. Mary looked out at the expanse of nothing for miles until the mountains and sighed.

She was bored and there was no cell service!

~~~*~*~*~~~

John Trujillo was walking out of the house when an old car pulled up in a cloud of dust. He had gone to Alice because one of the ranch hand’s son had gone missing; Shiye was a good young lad but he was missing all the same, which was something of a concern. Alice had said to take out search parties, but to keep it quiet in case the person who had done the abduction was watching. She had also suggested ramping up security, which he agreed with.

John watched as a young woman got out of the car first. She had many piercings on her ears, that he could see, large sunglasses perched on her nose, long loose black hair that seemed to fall however it pleased around her, and a face of contradictions. She looked like Angela, he thought, and she looked very familiar. He couldn’t place his finger on why she looked familiar but she did.

She walked next to a tall man with red hair and a lean build, who was holding a black hair toddler with bright green eyes.

“Are you sure this is the place Roy?” the woman asked, her voice was a voice meant for seduction. Smokey, graveled, and beautiful, now he recognized her.

The Raven.

It had been many decades since he had last seen her. She was a beautiful young woman, he didn’t need her to remove her glasses to know those dark eyes were raking over him, assessing him to be a threat or alley.

“Well, it’s the right place, cous,” Mary’s voice said behind him.

“It’s nice to see you again Mary-Beth,” the Raven’s voice said smoothly.

“Rachel,” Mary said tightly. “This is mom’s right hand, and the head of the Ranch, John Trujillo,” Mary introduced him. “John, this is Rachel Roth, my Aunt Angela’s daughter.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the Raven said holding her hand out.

He didn’t touch the empath as he tilted his head a bit in acknowledgement before walking by her. She was a small, slight woman and he saw those dark eyes watch him as walked by.

If the Raven was here then whatever was taking the children wasn’t no damn coyote; he would bet her arrival to mean the supernatural was stirring once again.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Shaggy didn’t struggle under Daphne’s bags as they walked to the car she had rented them to meet up with Fred and Velma.

A lot had changed over the years, but the jobs for PIs never really did. Daphne ran her blog, built her name up as a reporter, while Velma was still into all sorts of science work that he didn’t understand, and Fred was a budding author.

And he… well, when he wasn’t a PI he actually was a chef, at a restaurant he had opened up back in Coolsville. He’d have stayed in Louisiana, but he just couldn’t. Besides, yearly visits to check in on Grimwood Academy were taken and he got to see everything going on down at the plantation. The school had decided to plant Moonscar Island Chili Peppers. He had acquired Moonscar Island after Simone Lenoir’s and Lena Dupree’s ‘disappearance. Special Agent Beau Neville had all but begged him to so no one else got drawn into the weir voodoo.

Shaggy had because his own family’s plantation was close enough that acquiring the island was just an expansion of his plantation.

Yes, he kept his family’s ancient money and plantations a secret from the gang but he didn’t know how they’d look at him if they knew. Daphne knew, but her family was insanely rich and Mayflower old in the states with their wealth. Shaggy’s family was mostly French and had settled in New Oreleans area, it was because his mom married a Yank that he had grown up in Coolsville rather than on the family plantation.

“You’re here!” Fred shouted in glee, Velma smiled.

“We figured we’d pick you up at the airport rather than making you drive all the way up,” Velma said as she got out of the Mystery van.

“RELMA!” Scooby bellowed as he pounced her in glee.

“Thanks!” Daphne said.

“Yeah, thanks!” Shaggy grinned as Fred took some of the bags that belonged to Daphne.

“Just like old times,” Fred said.

“She doesn’t pack less,” Shaggy muttered as they packed up the van. The gang took their normal seats, he was sitting with Scooby as they looked over the custom Scooby snacks Velma had picked up for them.

“It is a weird case, and no one’s digging into it,” Velma said.

“Why not?”

“Alice said they don’t look into reservation problems and there aren’t enough cops on the reservation to look into this, and all the leads are dead ends,” Fred said.

“That’s sad,” Daphne said.

“Yeah,” Shaggy agreed as Scooby’s head rested on his shoulder. He didn’t like solving mysteries, but they did make him feel like he was giving something back to life by solving them.

Despite the PTS, anxiety and his ADHD going off the wall when they worked them.

[stolen-ass-name]

Brick, rose, squash, bronze, marigold, feen, olivw, peackock, navy, lapis, coral, snow, frost, ivory, hazel, iron, black, raven, slate, penny, taeny, brown, alabaster, sand, redwood, maroon, rust, leather 🐴🇫🇮

Your love of Dion is the best thing that's happened to me all year

Brick - What are some things you dislike?

Hmm... bugs, bad movies, homophobes, peas, peppers, alcohol, cigar smoke, Hazbin Hotel and not being able to put what's in my mind on paper!

Rose - Would you consider yourself a romantic person?

Ah... A bit... I mean, I don't know if I'm able to perform romantic stuff that well, unless it's, like, self sacrifice, but I do like hand-holding and rose petals and whatnot... And I wouldn't deny a romantic date with a boy that likes me.... Also I yearn

Squash - Do you live in an agricultural setting?  If so, are you a farmer or something of the sort? What kind of crops do you grow?

AH! I used to go a farm when I was little! The farmers kinda adopted me, since I could help out with work. It was like a second family, and I knew that whenever I needed a break from city life I could go there and wind down... We grew a lot of things but I mostly helped out with wheat and rye, and also in the orchards, where the apple and orange trees where! Can't turn down some equine strength when it's offered to you (っ’-‘)╮ =͟͟͞͞🐎ﾌﾞｫﾝ

Bronze - What is your favorite way to warm up when it’s cold 

I lov kotatsu... But, I cannot use one whenever the other team members are around because I don't fit well under them and they make fun of me... Can't help being dumb thicc when I have horse heinds! I also like blankets (and a lot of times I steal everyone's pillows and just pile them up and sleep on them...)

Marigold - What types of flowers are in your setting? Do you have a favorite?

Ah, now that I live in the city I just see whatever government sanctioned greenery there is in parks and whatnot... But I like the random orange trees there are... And back when I lived in the farm I really liked wild clover blossoms!

Fern - Would you enjoy running a flower shop? 

Hmm, I think so! The flowers are very pretty, and I really like the smell! I think bugs and bees would be a big problem for me though...

Olive - What is your Greek personality type? (sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric, or melancholic)

Hmm, hang on let me look that up!

*20 minutes and a wrong test later* Sanguine

Peacock - Are you a more flashy person, or do you like to blend in?

I think nature already gave up on making me blend in... I like to be flashy tho! And it's pretty easy now too

Navy - have you ever been on a boat/sailing? does it exist in your world? did you enjoy it? 

I have been on a boat but I was in the sun the whole time and got a bit sunburnt. Also my fur is black, so I overheated... But I guess if I were to be on a more comfortable boat I would go again! The sea is nice, and I like seeing the dolphins!

Lapis - What is your opinion on religion and the afterlife? 

Don't like organized religion, but Christianity really went hard with the Aesthetics! Also Ancient Greek dodecatheism was fun, and so are the stories from Norse Mythology... As for afterlife, I have no thoughts... I just hope it gets better!

Coral - Do you have a strong moral code? What are some moral things that you feel strongly about?

Hmm, my moral code is pretty set on things like human rights and whatnot, but if I recognize someone has more knowledge or experience in a subject, they become easy to move and change, like sand! So if I ever do something bad, please let me know! I will listen!

Snow - Have you ever seen snow? Do you like it? What do you like to do in the snow? 

Hmm, back home I had seen a lot of snow! I moved down south so I only see snow on vacations and whatnot... But snow is awesome, when it's fresh! It kinda freezes my hooves, so I have to wear special shoes, but other than that it's pretty fun to be in! I don't really like snowball fights winter sports, but I do like making snowmen!

Frost - What do you like to wear in cold weather?

Top is a regular skiing jacket. And thick caparison for the rest! I don't get cold that easily, since I can just let my back fur do it's work into he sun, but I do like to be self-reliant! I also have to hear ankle braces if there's thick snow, and I need special shoes for ice and stuff... At least it doesn't snow where I am now!

Ivory - Do you play any musical instruments? If so, which ones and how well? 

I don't play any instruments, but I would like to learn how to play a harp or a flute!

Hazel - What kind of folklore/myths/stories are told in your family/community?

I'll tell you my fave, the Hulder and those ladies with the big boobs, that feed fishes, but it's been a while since I heard the story about them and I can't remember their name at all now 😂 sorry grandpa

Black - What is the darkest thing you’ve ever done? 

Almost stomped some people to death, but I was justified, they were harassing a pride parade!

Raven - Can you fly? If not, do you ever dream about flying? 

I can't fly, but I have been levitated by Beau-san! I like floating and stuff, but I prefer running, it has more impact!

Slate - If you could erase any memory from your life, would you do it? If so, which memory would you chose? 

I would, bc some things are kinda traumatic, and I don't like thinking about them. But they're mostly movies and stuff I shouldn't have seen at the age I'd seen them...

Penny - If you could make a substantial living doing anything, what would you do?

Being a stay-at-home house-husband... And being a pro hero, but I guess I'm already doing that.

Tawny - Cats or Dogs? (or any animal for that matter)

I like both!!! All animals are good, even if some are more awkward than others, or harder to deal with, they're all good and lovable!

Brown- Where do you call home? 

Number1's house, the HQ building and any of my boyfriend's houses

Alabaster - What is the most recognizable thing about you? What are people most likely to notice about you when they first meet you?

..... The fact that I'm a horse. Also the prominent marks on my face and my strength I guess... As for personality and stuff my loud voice, my anxiety and how fast I talk, I guess... That's what I've been told.

Sand - Have you ever been to a beach? If so, what’s your favorite thing to do at the beach? 

Oh, yeah, I love the beach! I like swimming and running around, mostly, but I wouldn't be above making sand castles and stuff!

Redwood - How tall are you? 

A little over 2 meters tall!

Maroon - What are you most passionate about?

My job as a hero, my friends and my boyfriends! Love my boyfriends. OH, and my fans!

Rust - Have you thought about becoming old? Can you become old? Are you scared of being old? What do you think about elders?

Hmm, I don't see anything wrong with being old... I would like to be the reliable old person that I didn't have when I was a kid, that would help out and tell interesting stories and stuff... I do think that elderly people should be respected, but not be kept above their mistakes! It's never too late to learn how to be a better person!

Leather - How “basass” would you say you are?

I'd say pretty badass, like, on a scale of 1-10 probably a solid... 8!

[lemontwst]

Nessun Dorma | 01 - m!ver.

he says i am sorry i am not an easy person to want i look at him surprised who said i wanted easy i don’t crave easy i crave goddamn difficult

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: harem x m!reader. |  female version here.

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: cyoa + smut.

⟶ index  |  prologue.

__

You can’t say no to him.

You don't think you'd ever be able to deny Mira anything, really. Not when he looks at you like a kicked puppy… a tall, imposing kicked puppy with weird horns on his head who could probably cremate you alive without breaking a sweat.

"Of course I would stay with you! Do you even have to ask?" You reach out to touch his face. His skin always feels so cold under your fingers, but the fire in his eyes burns brighter than ever, as if the intensity of his flames depends solely on the intensity of your affection for him.

"I love you, Mira."

Your heart flutters at your own words and for a second you don't even know if you mean that as a friend or as a lover. But, well, you're only sixteen years old. You have a lifetime to figure it out.

You think Mira stops breathing, but it's hard to tell because the rise and fall of his chest is usually pretty much imperceptible anyway.

“I… I love you too.”

He sounds like he’s about to cry. One of his hands rests against your chest. It’s an innocent touch. He’s just feeling your heartbeat under his palm, tiny and steady like that of a little bird, “I will always, always love you. Even if one day you grow to hate me. Even if you forget about me. Even should you fall in love with somebody else…”

You suddenly feel very tired.

His gentle voice is like a lullaby in this field of roses. His words leave you dazed, like he’s casting a spell on you.

“I love you, (y/n).”

The last thing you hear is Mira wishing you a happy birthday before you fall into a warm, comfortable sleep without dreams.

___

A sharp pain in your chest jerks you awake.

It fucking hurts, like your heart is being pierced by a shard of glass. Like the fissures of your very existence are being pulled apart at the seams.

You clutch the spot above your heart, almost elbowing Epel in the face with all your trashing, trying to catch your breath.

"(y/n)! What the hell...?" Your friend rolls away from you, finally letting go of the octopus hold he had on you all night. He's all disheveled as he gives you a weak glare, falling back into the makeshift bed you two share with a groan.

It's not even a bed, really. Just a pile of cotton blankets messily thrown under the skylight of an unused barn. This is your little hiding place, and despite you two having perfectly comfortable beds in the main house with Grandma and Grandpa, you prefer to spend your summer nights sleeping in this very loft, where it's cool and open and comfortable. 

"Sorry! I… had a nightmare… I think.” 

Your friend is used to it by now, “Do you remember what it was about?”

"No… not really."

"Nothing at all?

"No, just…"

"Green eyes." Epel finishes the sentence for you. You've been having the same nightmare for a while, and your friend knows all about it, considering he sleeps right next to you most of the time.

Green eyes. Burning emerald. It's all you remember, alongside a gut wrenching, heart shattering feeling of longing that stays with you long after you've woken up.

"... Hey, you okay?" You must have looked as miserable as you feel, because Epel leans closer to you, peering into your face with worry in his eyes.

"Yeah… it's just a stupid dream." You shrug, leaning your head against his shoulder, "But you know what would make me feel better?" 

Epel shrugs, but the way his brow crinkles tells you he's already prepared himself for whatever dumb thing you're about to say.

He knows you too well.

"I'd feel sooo much better if I had an additional piece of toast for breakfast today…" you sigh dreamily and Epel sighs.

"Fine." He shrugs you off and stands up. When he stretches, a peek of white skin flashes under his light blue shirt.

"What, really?" Your eyebrows shoot up. It's not usually this easy to get him to hand over his morning toast.

"Yeah," Epel walks the length of the loft and starts going down the ladder to the ground level of the barn. Before his head completely disappears under the edge of the loft, he throws you an arrogant smirk, "I wouldn't want the deafenin' roars of your stomach wakin’ up every wolf 'n boar in the area."

You're rushing after him immediately.

He can’t claim the bread if he’s dead.

___

You live a simple, happy life here in the Village of Harvest.

Your journey might not have had the best start—your parents left you on a doorstep in a basket when you were a small baby, but Epel's grandparents took you in and cared for you like you were theirs, and you grew up surrounded by love in a small farming community.

Sure, your days might not be terribly exciting. You don't have things like a mall, or a cinema or… anything invented after the seventeenth century, really, but you have Epel and your grandparents and that's enough.

Oh, and you have Beau.

The little lamb trots towards you as soon as you're out of the house, your belly full with toast and Grandma's delicious apple jam, and starts nibbling at your socks immediately. 

Beau is minuscule. The tiniest lamb you've ever seen, always struggling to follow behind you on unsteady legs like you're his mother. Epel says it's because he feels a kinship with a fellow pipsqueak. You're always quick to point out that Epel is not that much taller than you anyway.

"Good morning, sweetie." You pick up Beau in a swift movement and hold him to your chest with one arm, carrying a wicker basket in the other, "Ready to pick some apples?"

Beau starts nibbling on your hair in response. This little guy… he's always munching.

"Just make sure he doesn't actually eat the apples." Epel starts walking in front of you, throwing Beau an unimpressed look.

You can't be sure but you feel like Beau is glaring back at him.

Sigh. Children.

___

You're always dead tired when you finally reach your bed. Farm life is fun and rewarding, but it’s also incredibly exhausting. That coupled with the fact that you haven’t been getting much sleep lately means that you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow, barely having the strength to say goodnight to Epel before you’re spiraling into a deep sleep.

…

…

You know you should be surprised to see him, but you never are. You can always feel him creeping around the outer edges of your dreamscape, but it doesn’t bother you. You invite him in every time, even if you forget all about it when you wake up, almost like you know instinctively that he won’t hurt you. Almost like you know him.

The man in your dreams is gorgeous, the kind of beauty that makes you want to learn sculpting so you can attempt to immortalize it. His skin is paler than marble, free of scars or blemishes. His ebony hair looks silky, a stream of ink that frames his handsome face and falls past his shoulders. He is tall, the tallest person you’ve ever seen, and the evil-looking horns on his head make him look ever more imposing. 

But what you find most striking about him are his eyes. Emerald gems with flames inside them. It’s the only detail of his that you remember when you wake up, the rest of him a cloud of black smoke when you attempt to picture him outside of your dreams. 

“Good evening, Deerlet.” His voice has the texture of silk and when he speaks, it feels like the ground shakes beneath your feet. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you, I wonder?” He closes in on you with slow, purposeful steps, elegant as a cat even as he leans forward slightly, like he wants to keep you in place by towering over you. His expression is curious and serene. You have a feeling he always looks at you like this.

“Why are you here?” You take a few steps back, not because you’re scared of him, but because you're scared of how badly you suddenly want to reach out and touch him. Your bare feet step on something soft, like flowers, and suddenly the dull landscape around you shifts into a view that feels strangely familiar to you. An open meadow and a purple sky above you. An endless sea of black roses around you.

“Your eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.” He closes the distance again, as attracted to you as you are to him. You’re like two ends of a magnet, when one pulls back the other follows. “I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.” The small, arrogant smile on his face sends a flurry of tingles down your spine.

“In any case, I won’t be able to celebrate with you tomorrow.” 

You feel like you already know where this is going.

“So I’ve brought you your gift today,” He reaches out to touch your elbows, languidly pulling you closer to him in a half-embrace that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s too much empty space between the two of you. His fingers linger over your skin, barely touching you. 

“Do you want to know what it is?” He whispers against your ear. One of his hands gently cradles your face. His lips brush against your temple and you shiver, completely paralyzed on the spot, “It’s my love, of course.”

Not granting you the chance to run away, the man picks you up like you weigh nothing and gently lowers you over the roses.

"I don't… I don't even know you." You meekly push at his chest, turning your head away. It's like trying to move a mountain, and the hardness under your hands makes you blush something fierce.

He chuckles above you, but he's not amused. It's a pained, bitter sound, like you just reached inside his ribcage and crushed his heart in your hand. His ebony hair tickles your skin when he leans down to press kisses against your jaw, "Oh, you do know me, beloved. You are the other end of my soul, as I am yours."

His adoring voice, barely a whisper against your skin, leaves you dazed and gasping for air. Your legs open almost instinctively for him, your dick wet with excitement. A clawed hand makes his way from your shoulder to your side, slowing down when it passes over your chest breast as if he's indulging in the forbidden fruit. His fingers glide inside your shorts and he runs a slow circle against the humid head of your member, eager to soak in your juices. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he brings his hand to his mouth. A forked tongue peaks between his lips, slowly running over one of his lucid fingers. It brings back a memory of that time you dropped jam on your forearm, and that same forked tongue cheekily swept it away. The vision is so clear it leaves the hint of a name in your dry mouth.

"Mi… ra?" 

His eyes dart to yours and you think they're actually burning. Emerald flickers to life. His snake pupils shrink. He makes a show of slowly running his thumb down his tongue, leaving a trail of precum behind. Your stomach clenches with need, your entire body lighting up like he just poured gasoline on you and burned it with a match.

"Is… is that your name?" You manage to gasp the words out, suppressing a shiver when he hums low in his throat. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to just give in already. To stop asking questions and wrap your arms around him instead, letting him use your body until he's satisfied. The urge to make him happy is almost primal in you, cauterizing your synapses. The need for him almost tears you apart.

"It's what you call me." It's a habit of his to sound both sad and adoring, you realize. You open your mouth to scold him for being so cryptic, but snap it shut when his hands rest on your chest. He palms the taut flesh gently, a small smirk on his arrogant face, "My precious Deerlet. Always so insatiably curious."

His thumbs slowly circle your hard nipples. Little jolts of electricity run down your spine, your chest growing sensitive under his ministrations. It's agonizingly slow. The sweet way he rubs you through the fabric of your shirt makes you quiver with need, your voice coming out in short little gasps that make his eyes darken to a dangerous jade.

You lay your hand on top of his. You can feel his hard veins move under your palm as he gropes you, and the sensation sends another wave of arousal down your crotch. Shaking like a frightened animal, you slowly move his hand to the side and slide it under your tank top. A gasp leaves you when his fingers touch your bare skin. Mira exhales a long, pained sigh through his nose, then allows his digits to explore the expanse of your flesh. His fingertips tingle and his muscles tighten almost violently as the impulse to fuck you threatens to overtake him.

"Patience, daelin." He teases you, his deep voice a heated, playful murmur. Your dick throbs in response. A small, frustrated whine leaves your lips.

"I'm going to savor every moment of this." He takes his hand away and your heart almost breaks, but the pain is soon replaced by scalding embarrassment when he rips the front of your shirt apart, easily, like it's tissue paper.

Nothing could have prepared you for the thunder that rattles the landscape of your psyche when his forked tongue makes contact with your perky nipple. Your hands find his broad shoulders and you hang on for dear life as he licks, nibbles and sucks like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His mouth is devastatingly gentle and you weakly beg for more. Mira smirks and ignores you, dragging out his tender torture for as long as he can, even as you desperately grind your stiff erection against him.

"Mira!" You're sobbing at this point. Your body is on fire and your dick hurts from the lack of attention, "Please—" He moves to your other nipple and you arch for him, making a pretty line with your back. Mira takes this chance to slip a hand under you, keeping your chest raised to his mouth so that your head falls back, away from the dangerous tips of his horns. But he still doesn't touch you where you want him.

Suddenly, another memory comes to mind, as if summoned by your sexual frustration. You remember something that makes him shiver without fail, and suddenly you feel like you've regained some sort of power over this arrogant man. You bring a hand to his horn and tug and the loud, startled moan that leaves him is enough to satisfy the hunger in your stomach, precum leaking in your shorts like dew against the fabric. 

"... You little brat." Mira pulls away, struggling to catch his breath. His eyes are full of mischief as he looks down at you, the smirk ever present on his handsome face, "Is this how you treat your King?"

You try not to look too offended that he stopped touching you, giving him a defiant look that makes his smirk grow wider, "It is when the King is mean to his Queen."

His expression falls and he suddenly looks flustered. It seems like he enjoys hearing that you belong to him quite a bit. Mira quickly composes himself, the fire in his eyes now dim and subtle like a dangerous warning. 

You yelp when he grabs the back of your knees and pushes your legs against your body in a quick, rough movement, leaving you spread open and helpless under his watchful gaze.

"This is far from me being mean." He growls at you, allowing his instincts to take over for just a second, "So I advise you don't do that again." The stern look on his face makes his presence feel even more oppressing than usual.

It's like he's speaking the words directly into your ears. His voice bounces off the walls in your head, heated and demanding as a spark of his magic runs over your sensitive skin. It's a tingly feeling that makes your heart stutter, more intimate than anything you've ever felt. He shares just a fraction of his arousal with you through the link between your magic and his and suddenly you're crying and convulsing on top of the flowers, the heat between your legs akin to flowing magma.

The world around you loses focus. There's no more questions, no more doubts, you don't need to know anything about him, you just want him to touch you while you moan and gasp and whimper his name. It feels like you're on the verge of shattering and when Mira caresses you with his magic one more time, your stomach squeezes and releases, the dam in your abdomen breaks and blinding white flashes in front of your vision. You're left boneless and dazed and shivering, the shock from climaxing so hard and so abruptly leaving you speechless as you gasp and try to catch your breath.

...Holy shit. You catch his eyes and notice the subtle way he’s panting, sweat coating his forehead as he stares at every twitch of your body with intense rapture. Mira looks almost famished, desperation written all over his face. He looks like he’s in pain.

"I'm trying to be gentle, daelin." He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to keep the pieces of his disintegrating self-control together. Your scent is everywhere. The light spice in the air threatens to render Malleus insane and he has to momentarily block you out to keep himself from turning into his half-draconic form.

No no no, he can't do that to you. Not now. Not during your first time. He wants to cherish and protect you. He won't let his feral instincts get in the way of this precious moment…

"...I know."

Malleus opens his eyes. A small, tired smile greets him. Your face is sweaty and flushed, like that one time he took you deep into the woods.

"I trust you, Mira."

Love washes over him like high tide across a deserted shore, filling every crack on his eroded heart, replacing the pitch-black ink that constantly threatens to swallow him.

You trust him. Of course you do. You love him. You are his and he is yours. Forever, like you promised him.

"... I'll make you feel good." He sounds oddly resolute as he looks at you, his pupils large on a background of gentle flames. He kind of looks like a happy cat and you can't help but giggle. He's still as awkwardly sweet as the scrawny boy in your memories.

"You already did."

He snorts, "I'll make you feel better."

You let out a surprised gasp when he slips your shorts off of you and lowers his face right between your legs. You hear him take a deep breath and then he's exhaling right against your engorged dick. Your legs tremble in response and Mira chuckles. You don't need to look at him to know he's smiling that closed-eye smile you like so much.

Your excitement flares back to life as his tongue traces a slow line from the base to the head. The split in his tongue feels… weird, but it's also strangely erotic, and you can't help but moan shamelessly as he teases your urethra. Then he runs his tongue flat over your glans and suddenly you can't bear to look at him anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as little earthquakes shake you from head to toe, your hips going numb as he draws slow circles around the sensitive head.

"Which one feels better?" He has the nerve to ask you even as you convulse under him.

"The tip…" he greedily sucks on your glans and your head falls back, precum dripping out of you like a fucking river and coating his face in a lucid sheen of arousal, "Or the base?" He drags his tongue down the shaft and gently sucks on your ballsack and you nearly lose your mind, your hands tangling in his raven hair and gripping his horns for comfort. Mira gasps loudly against you, claws digging into your legs from the shock of the sudden stimulation, but you don't even notice it, lost as you are on the edge of your release. He brings a hand to your shaft and starts pumping, coating his fingers in precum and saliva as he continues to suck on your glans hungrily.

Your dick throbs desperately with the need to shoot your semen all over Mira's face. Everything feels wet and hot and stars, his tongue is lapping up everything you have to give him. It's like he's desperate not to let even a single drop go to waste…

"Mira!" You cry out in a broken voice, trying to grind your dick up into his eager mouth, "Mira—I'm going to—"

He suddenly lets go of one of your legs. The boneless limb falls over his shoulder, your soft thigh caressing the side of his soaked face. He doesn't grace you with a warning before one of his wet fingers plunges into your asshole, the tight passage clenching in shock at the sudden intrusion.

Your moans increase in volume. You trash under him as if you want to get away. This is almost too much. It's scary. He pumps his index finger in and out of you, smearing saliva all over your walls, then he presses that sensitive button inside you and suddenly the bliss is debilitating. He carefully stretches your cute little hole until he can push another finger in. Your back arches as another orgasm crashes over you, scalding hot and earth-shattering and too fucking vivid for this to be just a dream.

You completely miss the dazed expression on Mira's face when your cum fills his mouth, the dark jade of his eyes fading into a glassy mint. 

You're so out of it as you slump back against the roses that you almost don't hear him when he speaks again.

"This scent is—addicting—" his chest heaves and he looks almost intoxicated, "I feel like I'm getting drunk on you..." semen drips off his chin but he clearly doesn't mind. Not when he starts wiping the thick liquid off with a hand before bringing it to his mouth, swallowing as much of it as he can. It's strange how he looks like an animal and a prince at the same time. An otherworldly creature of indescribable beauty, even as he eagerly eats your essence off his face.

“(y/n), I can’t take it anymore…” He breathes frantically, finally allowing himself some sort of relief as he takes his erection out of his pants. His dick is so hard it fucking hurts. He really wanted to take things slow for your sake, but he only ended up edging himself to the point of almost going into a rut.

He lets his hot member fall against your stomach. He’s fucking huge, you stare with wide eyes at the point where his length ends across your abdomen. 

"It… it won't fit…" You mumble, even as your inexperienced asshole clenches with traitorous want.

"Not this time, probably not." Mira cradles your little body in his arms, "I'd have to train you for it to fit. Stretch you out until your insides have my imprint." He runs a hand down his face in a quick, agitated movement. Every single cell in his body is fighting against the urge to ravish you. His muscles hurt from tightening so violently and Malleus has to force himself to count to ten to keep from showing his cock inside you at once. 

“It’s… fine. I won’t hurt you.” He promises, searching your face for your approval as he lines himself against your entrance. He’s been alive for centuries and yet his heart has never beaten so fast. His hawk-like eyes are focused on you and you alone, burning the image of you laying helpless under him inside his corneas. 

Then you nod up at him, looking so cute as you try to put on a brave face that Malleus almost cums right then and there. The head of his dick slowly pushes inside you. Your head lulls back and Mira's hands shake violently.

It's so big. Your vision goes out of focus as your hole clenches around him greedily despite the pain. Stars, it's stretching you so well. He tried to prepare you for this and yet he still has to push to enter you because you're so fucking tight. Your legs shake uncontrollably, the feeling of being so thoroughly filled wiping out every thought in your head.

He finally touches the deepest place inside you, his large cock still not completely inside, and you both go completely still. The only sounds that break the humid silence are your loud gasps and his feeble ones, mixing together in a cacophony of absolute amazement as you two take in the surreal feeling of finally being connected.

Mira is inside you. You completely forget that this is a dream, that sentence repeating inside your head over and over again.

"...Small." He mutters. You look at him and your heart almost collapses at the tender expression on his face. You think his pupils might have turned into little hearts, a light blush dusting his pale cheeks as sweat drips off his hair and chin.

"So small." He makes a show of hovering over you completely and suddenly the sky disappears. There's only him. Above you and around you and inside you. You're face to face with his chest, and as you lean your head back, trying to catch his eyes, you see that he has to tuck his chin against his neck to look back at you. 

…

...

Fuck. Your heart lodges in your throat and your hole clenches around him, coaxing a surprised moan from both your lips.

"(y/n)..." your name sounds heavenly when he says it like that. On a quiet, vulnerable gasp.

"I… I'm going to start moving now, okay?" 

You can't speak, so you give him another frantic nod, squeezing your eyes shut. You're not prepared for how good it feels when he pulls back. His veins scrape against you, the stretching becomes almost unbearable and you're left moaning long and loud in a way that makes Malleus sweat. If you could see him now, you'd notice he looks almost shy, like the first time you kissed his cheek. 

He's almost out of you when he decides to thrust back in, scattering stars across your stomach with a single, gentle motion. Every nerve ending tingles with pleasure. Sweet nonsense falls from your lips and Malleus has to grit his teeth and dig his clawed fingers into the ground in order to cling to the last remains of his thinning patience. His fangs hurt with the primal urge to mark you.

"My (y/n)—" He eases into a steady rhythm, pushing what he can of his shaft inside you and rubbing your abused prostate with every thrust of his powerful hips. Sweat pours down his face, his hair sticks to his chin and his tongue swipes the salt off his lips, "My sweet boy—my cute little Deerlet—" His waist snaps back into your smaller one in short strokes, his movements growing more and more frenzied as tight, magma hot pleasure builds inside him. The obscene sounds that fill the air turn him on so much he's now full-blown moaning. His beautiful voice calls your name shamelessly, desperately, like you could disappear from under him at any given moment.

"I love you—you're mine—" He growls placing a large hand under your ass as he pounds into you, keeping your hips locked to his, loving the way your dick bounces against his stomach, “Say that you’re mine."

The order resonates inside your head. You're not even offended that he's using his magic to intimidate you. You can barely cling to your consciousness at this point.

"I am—I'm—yours, Mira!" You don't even know which way is up anymore, but you know that what you're saying is true. You belong to him. Your best friend. The love of your life.

"Malleus." He corrects you through gritted teeth, then he stops moving entirely, ignoring your disappointed cries as he desperately tries to resist the pull your body has on him, "Say I'm yours, Malleus." 

"I'm yours, Malleus." His real name becomes a moan in your mouth and Malleus finally snaps. There's no more gentle, just a carnal urgency and a need that has waited centuries to be satisfied. He pulls his hips back and then slams into you and fuck, you should be screaming by now but you can't, there's not enough air as you bounce over the flowers and sob, clinging to him like he's your lifeline.

The loud "Fuck!" that leaves his mouth pushes you over the edge, the word unexpected but so fucking sexy coming from his graceful mouth. You clench down around him, delirious as stars explode behind your vision, and drag him right over the edge with you. 

Malleus holds you so close to him you feel like you might melt into each other as he releases pulse after shuddering pulse of his essence into you.

He cums so much. You can feel his hot semen fill you up and then spill out like it's a waterfall. He's not letting go of you, his face hidden in your hair as he recovers from the star-shattering pleasure of finally, finally being one with you.

"I love you." He mutters, voice breaking.

...

He's crying. That lone thought destroys something inside you and you start feverishly kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck, anything you can reach as you try to soothe him.

Don't cry don't cry don't cry—

You feel him starting to fade in your arms. You can feel yourself starting to fade.

Nonononono— Maker, please—

He pulls away from you and you finally see his face. 

He looks lost. His dark lashes are wet with tears, his mouth is curved in a confused frown and that's when you realize that he loves you so much, but he doesn't know how to process the feeling. He's like a panicked child and you are fading. And he’s always going to remember this moment, but you won’t.

You scream out his name, his real name.

…

And then you wake up, sobbing all over yourself, unable to remember. 

Epel tries his best to comfort you, but you don't stop crying for a long time.

___

Life goes on.

You have a part-time job at a beach bar, on the coastline that extends about 60 miles away from the village.

Epel hates that you have to travel so far when you could just help him out at the farm like you usually do, but you’ll be attending NRC coming September, and you want to save some pocket money for you and Epel to spend on all the cool city stuff you can’t find in your hole of a town.

Beau likes to walk you to the bus stop. Epel would too, but you won’t let him waste his time on you when he has his own work to take care of. Your lamb companion stops following you when the dirt road opens to the fields, getting distracted by the dandelions sprinkled at the edges of the village. 

"See you later, Beau." You chuckle, knowing he will go back to the farm as soon as he gets bored. Beau ignores you and munches away.

The bus stop isn't far, a lone plastic port on a background of sunflowers. As per usual you're the only one here, but the occasional horse and buggy passes by, and the farmers who live in the nearby granges all greet you with cheerful smiles on their faces. They all know where you're headed and wish you a good day at work. You really can't keep anything to yourself in such a small community.

The commute to the beach takes almost an hour. The road zig-zags and then straightens towards the coastline. You're almost tempted to doze off, but finding your way to the beach if you miss your stop is going to be a pain in the ass, so you force yourself to stay awake, keeping your eyes on the picturesque horizon and daydreaming about your mysterious man with the emerald eyes.

You always think about him when you’re riding this bus.

…

You should probably stop being so obsessed with him.

___

The sun is almost in the middle of the sky when you get to the beach bar, and as per usual, it's a crowded mess. This is the infernal hour, and not only because it's hot as sin.

There's people everywhere, craving drinks and food before they go lay down on their beach towels for the rest of the day, their flip-flops leaving sand in every corner of the bar that you'll be sweeping for an eternity. Screaming children run this and that way like they're high on vitamin gummies. Their melting popsicles leave a sticky trail on the ground. They step on it and spread liquid sugar everywhere.

…

Why do you work here again? 

…

Because the pay is good, and your coworker is cute.

Said coworker perks up when he sees you. His ears give an excited wiggle (Maker, he's adorable) and he shoots you a smirk that shows his little fangs, "Ah, kitten! Always a sight for sore eyes." He hisses a 'kishishishi' that you've learned to recognize as his laughter, his closed eyes looking like little half-moons.

"Now move your bum and go change. I need my sla—coworker to serve some tables outside.”

Figures. His lazy ass hates leaving the coolness of the bar to handle the customers sitting outside.

“Is that how you ask for favors, Ruggie?~" You tease him as you step behind the counter and head for the changing rooms in the back.

"I'd smooch ya as a treat but snoggin's not allowed in front of the children." He gives you a cheeky smile. One of the moms around the bar throws him a glare, but he shamelessly ignores it. 

You shake your head and grin to yourself. At least you have him around to make this job a little more bearable.

___

“I am dying.” You groan and rest your head on the counter, the coolness of the wood soothing your flushed face, “Why did I take this job anyway? I don't need the money! I can just live off the land with my lamb companion and eat apple jam for the rest of my days."

Ruggie snorts next to you. He finishes cleaning a beer glass and places it back on the decorative shelf behind you, “Says the one who only works half a shift.”

You turn your head to look at him, cheek smushed against the counter. Rush hour is finally over, but god, you're in pieces. Waiting tables is not as easy as it sounds, and dealing with entitled moms on vacation is a torture worse than stepping on two Legos at the same time.

The sun is starting to set. The blue sky fades into a gentle orange above the deep indigo of the calm sea. Your shift is almost over, but Ruggie will have to stay here for a while longer.

"I'm not a masochist like you." Your eyes follow him as he wipes, cleans, moves, washes and dries plates and glasses at half the speed it takes you to do it. He's like a super cleaning pro.

"Ye gotta work if you want ta eat." He pops open a can of peach tea, then pours it in a glass filled with ice.

"It's not masochism, it's the law of the Savannah." He places the glass right in front of your face. You lift your head off the counter and wrap your hands around the cold beverage as he shoots you a mischievous look. He waits for you to take a sip before adding: "But it's nice ta know you're so interested in my sexual preferences."

You choke.

He laughs that kishishishi sound.

As you wipe your mouth with your wrist and send him a half-assed glare, a familiar sparkle sizzles the air between you.

You bask in the sudden heat for a second, watching as Ruggie's blue-gray eyes trace a slow path down your body.

This kind of flirting is… not uncommon between the two of you, but it never really leads to anything, if only because you're both stuck manning the bar and you can't really leave the place unattended.

But something you can't help but wonder… would he act on it if you two were alone and away from trying eyes? Would you act on it? Ruggie is very cute… and witty and funny and reliable...

Regardless of your feelings on the matter, his casual teasing makes you feel like the hottest person on this beach, so you don't discourage it. You take another sip of tea, sighing through your nose at how pleasant the cold beverage feels when it runs down your throat.

...

"Uh…" Ruggie suddenly looks away, his cheek tinged the lightest shade of pink, "You may uh… want to take that shirt off, kitten."

...

What?

You look at him like he's grown another head.

"Excuse me?" You must have sounded more outraged than you feel, because your voice sends Ruggie into an embarrassed panic.

"N-not like that! It's just…! You've been sweating a lot and your shirt's gone transparent! I can see everythin' from here— I mean, what if a perverted old man walks in and sees you like that?"

You look down at your white shirt. It wasn't visible while you were wearing your green apron, but you can indeed see the outline of your nipples peek out from under the wet fabric, and you figure your wet back looks the same. Oops.

"Ah shit, sorry I didn't notice." You stand up and Ruggie turns his head away at the speed of light.

"No no… s'fine I have— a jacket you can wear while you walk home if ya need it."

Your lips quirk in a grateful smile as you head for the changing room, "Thank you! You're the best, Ruggie!"

"Yeah, yeah…" he breathes, quietly rubbing his temples as soon as you're out of the room.

___

Left alone in an empty beach bar, Ruggie barely resists the urge to slam his head against the counter. His shoulders are burning like he's been marked like cattle, and all he wants to do is to walk into the ocean until the waves swallow him completely. Maybe the abhorrent heat that singes his skin would fucking disappear then. And if not, at least the cold water would kill his boner.

This happens every fucking time. Every fucking time. He should be smarter than this, and yet he always falls for the same tricks, and the worst part is that he's tricking himself. Ruggie knows that flirting with you is akin to showing burning coals in his abdomen. He gets so fucking excited his entire body starts tingling with electricity, which is not the ideal state to be when you're at work.

And yet he still does it anyway.

Maybe he really is a masochist.

And maybe he should actually bend you over this counter and finally get rid of the frustration that's been building up inside him for the past two months.

And oh God, you're going to the same school as him in September. You're going to be prancing around in your little uniform, calling him 'senpai' and shit and he's going to have to go through his heat while being tortured like that.

Ruggie pours himself a glass of ice-cold water and downs it in one gulp.

Yeah, he's fucked. 

___

"Epel! Carry me!~" You cling to your friend, Grandma and Grandpa chuckling at your antics from the sofa and the armchair respectively.

Having finished washing the dishes, Epel wipes his hands on a dishcloth and pushes you away with his elbow, "No thanks. I'm tired too ya know."

This is not the first time you've done this song and dance. With how little you've been sleeping lately, you're always looking for excuses to be carried around by Epel. Your legs feel like jello, you are not walking all the way to the barn tonight. Just changing into your pajamas has been hard enough.

"Yeah, but you slept like a rock all night!" You hug him from behind and rest your lips against his shoulder, giving him an unimpressed look from over his shoulder, "I woke up to you drooling all over my shirt multiple times."

Epel flushes the color of the fruit he's named after and mumbles something unintelligible. He waves goodnight to his grandparents and so do you, then he struggles towards the front door, pretty much having to drag you across the hallway.

"If you're this tired then why don't ya just quit the beach job already?"

The two of you step outside, greeted by the loud crying of the cicadas. There's not a cloud above you, the stars clearly visible in the inky blue of the night.

"I can't do that. Ruggie needs me."

Epel scoffs. It's the exact same sound he made when he saw you come home wearing your coworker's jacket. 

"Why don't ya go ask yer darlin' Ruggie to carry ya then?" His accent gets more jumbled as his irritation grows. Still, for all his fussing, Epel bends down and waits for you to climb on his shoulders. 

You do so happily, nuzzling into him like a spoiled cat.

A pair of emerald eyes flashes behind your eyelids, but you shrug it off.

"Sorry but I'm too drunk to go back to the beach to ask him."

"Only you can get drunk after two glasses of apple cider." Epel smirks, ignoring you when you hit his arm and start whining again.

__

You lay down onto Epel's checkered blanket like a starfish.

"Where am I supposed ta sleep? On the ground?" Epel turns the lantern off, then lights the incense to keep away mosquitoes and other bugs and places it on the windowsill.

He turns towards you with his hands on his hips, watching as you lay in your shared nest without a care in the world, and sighs. So spoiled.

"You can sleep on top of me, I don't care."

Epel almost chokes on his saliva.

You laugh at his flustered face. It almost looks like he's angry, eyes wide and an outraged blush on his cheeks.

You open your arms for him, "Come on! It's not like we won't end up in this position in the morning anyway."

It’s true. Epel often rolls on top of you in his sleep, and nothing you do ever seems to shake him off or wake him up. You figure you can just get right to it, since he apparently loves resting his head on your chest while he snores.

Your friend closes the distance between you with three hesitant steps. "... You're such a moron, seriously." He mumbles, kneeling between your legs and then draping himself over you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He smells like apples, as always. His cotton pajamas and his fluffy hair make him the perfect cuddle buddy. You sigh contently into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his back.

It’s quiet for a bit. Epel’s weight is strangely comforting over you. The sound of his steady breaths is a familiar lullaby, and you quickly find yourself floating in that comfy, tingly space between sleep and wake.

…

“Do you do this with Ruggie too?” 

Epel mutters so quietly you almost don’t hear him. He doesn’t say it accusingly just… like he’s sulking.

“... What?” Any semblance of sleep disappears from your mind as you catch his dejected tone of voice, “You mean like hugging?— Of course not.” You bring a hand to his hair and scratch his skull like you know he likes it, and you feel him relax in your arms.

…

…

“Have you ever kissed him?”

Okay, now you’re definitely wide awake.

You look down at him, trying to catch his expression, “Epel, what are you talking about?”

He raises his head and pins you down with a demanding, silvery gaze. You sigh and lay your head back down, closing your eyes as you think of the best way to answer him.

“I haven’t kissed him.” You open your eyes and catch Epel’s expression shift just a little. He tries to keep an impassive front, but you can tell he’s relieved, “But I’ve never kissed you either.” You could maybe understand the cuddle comparison, since Epel is your designated snuggle friend, but who you kiss or don’t kiss shouldn’t matter to him.

Right?

“... Do you want to?” 

Your breath catches in your throat. Everything seems to still around you. Your heartbeat speeds up as you look into Epel's eyes. You know he's pretty manly despite his soft features, but he's never been so… forward before. You two have always been like siblings, so you really didn't think Epel felt that way about you. Maybe he's just joking?

… He's not. His eyes dart to your lips and darken, like there's a thunderstorm inside his gaze. Soft blue turns to rainy gray.

Do you want to?

…

"Yes." You think Epel stops breathing, but you don't have time to think about it because he's suddenly leaning towards you, stopping only when his lips are a few centimetres away from yours.

His labored breaths fan your lips and send a flurry of tingles down your abdomen…

___

❥ How do you handle this situation with Epel?

⟶ Lay back and let Epel take the lead. You deserve this after being teased in your dreams by your mystery man and teased in real life by your hyena coworker. Besides, you kind of want to see what your stubborn Epel is capable of in bed... (sub!deerlet content)

⟶ Touch him, claim him, make him beg for the next kiss. With the way he’s always clinging to you, you suspect this is what Epel has always wanted anyway. (dom!deerlet content)

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[longdeathmonk]

I don’t even know with this one, but here it is. Oh boy, its a long one. I present to you: What if the Mighty Nein played Minecraft?

Fjord: This one is easy. The man doesn’t get on the server as much as the others, he prefers games with a little more action and plot (Like witcher 3). An enderman came after him once, and he cried a lil bit. Ever since, mc has been a bit tainted for him. He has a small shop called Tusktooth’s Menagerie that sells all the odds and ends he gets from looting pirate ships, along with the wood from the ships themselves. His pride and joy on the server is a recreation of his dream ship, anchored in a very scenic lagoon he made. Currently, he’s working on draining an ocean monument to use as a second base.

Caleb: Without a doubt, Caleb is the best at making redstone contraptions. He enjoys making farms for everyone (in exchange for paper), whether they’re mob farms or simple automated wheat farms. His base is next to Beau’s, and it has a very large enchanting room, full to the brim with bookcases. It’s a bit cramped, but can you really ever have enough books? Of course, his base wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t have a bunch of cats and ocelots hanging around. 

Nott: Yes, she has a hitman service running in the server’s shopping district. Yes, the m9 use it often but they don’t talk about it. She doesn’t always take diamonds as payment, usually its bits and trinkets that she can hoard. Nott offers a creative menu on how the customer can chose their target’s demise, including the Fluffernutter. By far, Nott has the most impressive storage system, its underground and VERY expansive. Only Caleb and Yeza can dig through her stuff. Speaking of Caleb and Yeza, she has built a modest laboratory for the three of them. Caleb works on some redstone concepts, while Nott and Yeza brew potions.

Beau: She thought she was too cool for minecraft for a while, since she believed it was just a kid’s game. However, Beau became the best pvper on the server. Her and Jester often throw down with eachother, with everybody else placing bets. Beau is the only person that Nott struggles with assassinating. She’s not much of a builder, preferring to explore mines and interesting places on the map. The grandest thing she’s built so far is a really cool arena called the Cobalt Thunderdome on the outskirts of the shopping district.

Jester: As a shock to nobody at all, she is the best at pranking people on the server. She likes to sneak into people’s bases and replace carpeting/blocks so there’s hidden dicks. Early on, she was the first to aquire a diamond pickaxe. For a while, she would encase afk players in obsidian. Her store in the shopping district is The Little Saphire’s Super Cool and Tasty Bakery. She used so many pink concrete blocks for it, and it is the very definition of “fairy princess castle”. Next to the Cobalt Thunderdome is a large temple for the Traveler. Even though it’s technically a temple, its actually pretty cozy and like you can totally chill or whatever, the Traveler is cool with it.

Yasha: It took her a long while to get the hang of this game. She was very confused as to why her gold equipment broke so often. Since it was cool and flashy that meant it was better, right? Yasha is rarely ever to be found, she likes to take her time and walk around the map. Around the server, little dirt huts pop up, with wooden signs that just say “Yasha stayed here” and the date of her stay. When she’s done exploring, she comes back with an inventory full of flowers and sometimes seeds. She has a joint effort with Caduceus, where they landscape terrain and make gardens. Her first big project on her own was adding greenery, custom trees, and decorative pathways around the shopping district. She’s been meaning to make a base, but just hasn’t yet. Instead, Beau insisted Yasha use her base and have free rein to Beau’s stuff.

Caduceus: He manages the community garden, and is the one to go to for advice on adding some flora to builds. By far, Caddy has the most visually pleasing builds. His base is astounding. It starts with a replica of his home in the Blooming Grove (complete with a graveyard), the decor is sparse. A bed or two, furnace and crafting table, and some chests. The REAL base is at the top of a giant tree he made, complete with a multi leveled treehouse. The treehouse has a very open design, with a lot of vines and flowers scattered around. The very top opens up to a rooftop garden, and a section of hollowed out tree with a shrine for Melora and the Stormlord. Caduceus has a soft spot for mooshrooms, and has one named after each of his siblings.

Molly: Molly was the self proclaimed “God King of Minecraft”. It was a really funny bit, actually. Jester was his advisor, and Beau plotted to uncover his corruption and overthrow him. There was a lot of made up political intrigue that really spiced up the server. His biggest and only build on the server was with Yasha in the shopping district. The M.T. Spa has a large bath and a bunch of armor stands decorated to be various men/women/people of the night. The bathing area has water trickling in by waterfall, quartz columns lining the bath, intricate murals underwater, and two banners on either side of the waterfall. A purple banner on the left for himself, and a grey banner on the right for Yasha. He never even got the chance to build a base, but he is still everybody’s god. Long may he reign. 

[widobravely]

"and they all lived happily ever after” “but how?”

i’ve been trying to think of endgame for the mighty nein and can’t really figure out their happily ever afters. i mean, i hope campaign 2 goes on for a long long time because i fucking love them, but like. how will it work, after. on what page do we close the book?

nott/veth can have a happily ever after. it’s all wrapped up in a beautiful ribbon and button flowers: she gets turned back into a halfling, she goes back to felderwin, she and yeza give luke another two or three siblings, as well as a pet or two that she claims to despise but they all adore her anyway. it’s beautiful, it’s perfect, it’s easy--and i’m not sure if, after all that character development, it’s what’s supposed to happen? 

nott/veth has discovered that all the things she thought she wasn’t--brave, pretty, capable--she absolutely is. i haven’t caught up yet so i don’t know all the details, but those are just details. i imagine that veth grew up thinking all she was going to be was a housewife, or not being a wife of any sort at all, and then she married yeza and she had a son and she was content. yes she still carried around her crippling insecurities, but she was content. and i imagine if the goblins hadn’t come, she’d remain so--unaware of her magical talent, friendless-except-for-yeza, but a damned good mother and content, content, content.

she’s more than who she thought she could be, now. she’s growing into herself. she’s making decisions. she has a group of friends who would die for her. and somehow the thought of going back to a quiet farming town...doesn’t seem right for her, anymore?

she deserves to be happy. i wonder if her old life can make her so, now?

caleb--oh caleb. we know what his ultimate goal is: to turn back time, to change his past, to save his parents. we are terrified of what will happen if he does. i hope very much his happily ever after is instead him choosing to let the past be in the past, apologize to his parents’ ghosts, and move forward with his found family. where does he end up, after? where does he go?

imagining a caleb slotted into the brenatto family: a beloved brother slash uncle figure to luke, often the center of a kitty cuddlepile, warm and safe and loved. that would be nice, wouldn’t it? and maybe a library. or multiple libraries, where he can just. indulge. in his passion for learning and knowledge. he never has to go into combat again, he can just be. learn for the sake of learning. maybe he’d like to teach? who knows. 

but what if he does manage to accomplish his goals. what if he does manage to turn back time. what happens then? bren aldric ermendrud probably never goes to the academy. then what? he’ll never become caleb widogast, either, and he isn’t going to be in a jail cell with a goblin girl and he isn’t going to meet a bunch of lunatics in a bar in trostenwald and--

say for example he intervenes in the raid on felderwin, saving veth. what then? veth doesn’t know him. veth doesn’t need him. caleb and nott: i’m sticking with you ‘cause i’m made out of glue. veth doesn’t have that need because she was never hungry or tired or desperate or a halfling turned goblin. will they still be friends? he saved her and her family’s lives. i don’t know. people smarter than me can meta that. but it will be changed. it will be bren and veth, not caleb and nott. 

say he saves veth. what then? is he going to hunt down beau and jester and fjord and molly and yasha and caduceus? is he going to form an adventuring party without veth? why would he? what drives him? after saving his parents, is he just. going to leave them?

i don’t think caleb has thought out his plan completely, or how his life is going to change after he Accomplishes his Goal. you see, the goal isn’t to bring his parents back to life. it’s to erase what he did. he can’t forgive himself for killing his parents, and it’s not enough to make them live again, he can do that with true resurrection. he wants to make sure he’s never done it. 

but in unmaking that, he unmakes caleb, and thus the mighty nein.

but enough about a hobo wizard who hasn’t thought about the consequences of his actions.

caduceus. i’ve always thought that After Everything, he goes back to the blooming grove. that’s his goal: save the grove. he’s going to be the one to save the grove. he’s going to read the book caleb gave him and he’s going to find something that heals cursed, blighted lands and the nein are going to go on a quest, a caduceus arc, and they’re going to save the blooming grove. 

maybe this: maybe all his family comes back, maybe nila’s firbolg tribe comes to stay, maybe he spends the rest of his long long life making tea and gossiping with nila about how to grow mosses.

but we run into the same problem as we did with veth: is he going to be happy there, in the stillness? in the silence? after his growth, is he going to be able to fit back into the pot?

i don’t know. i guess we’ll see.

beauregard. where does she fit. where does she go? the mighty nein is the only family she’s ever really had. i think if it were up to beau, she’d want to keep going, keep adventuring. but that’s reliant on what the others want, isn’t it? if veth stays with yeza and luke. if caleb unmakes the world. if caduceus, after solving his problem, goes home.

jester i think will want to keep going, too, because she wants to see the whole world, you guys. jester wants to compensate for all those years in a locked room. jester is going to roam and explore and discover and spread the word of the traveler--and it’s the traveler, it isn’t the guy who has a temple in just one place that’s boring. in that case i see beau and jester staying together. they drop by nicodranas every so often to say hey to mama lavorre. yes, of all the nein i can see beau and jester’s happily ever after the clearest: they’re not going to settle down, they have wandering feet, there’s an entire world to see.

it’s not going to be the same, without everyone else. but it could be good, too. 

(point for beaujesters, maybe?)

there are undefined things, there are questions. what about the cobalt soul? what about the expositors? can beau ever go back to the empire? what about her family, her brother? 

but in the end, well. i don’t think beau will ever want to settle down in kamordah and run a vineyard, so. adventuring with jester and spreading the word of the traveler it is! 

i had a wild thought: what if jester takes over the gentleman’s criminal empire? but naaaah, i don’t think jester would like that, so let’s not.

yasha--yasha has no defined goals, no defined end. zuala is dead. zuala could possibly be true-resurrected, but what happens after? do they stay in xhorhas, or go off to explore like beau and jester? actually i can see that happening, too: beau and jester and zuala and yasha, just off to see the world. and what a lovely image: zuala comes back to life, and the first thing she sees is yasha and a book of flowers: i brought you flowers, love. i have so many flowers to show you.

if they true-resurrect zuala. i think a pretty important theme in the nein is moving on, putting the past behind them. nott needs to reconcile with veth’s insecurities and realize she’s more than what she thought she was; caleb needs to forgive himself and let his parents go. i don’t know if zuala’s resurrection would be a good thing or a bad thing. again, smarter people than me can probably meta that.

fjord fjord fjord. what is he going to do, what does he want? he was so happy on the sea. it was like coming home, for him. i don’t think he’ll ever unlock uk’otoa, no--fjord isn’t stupid enough to mess with a scary god-snake i hope, so. what happens to him? 

maybe he finds vandren, maybe together they make amends, maybe they go back to the ball-eater and go sailing off with orly and marius and the rest? that would be nice, too. beau and jester hitch a ride every so often. fjord i think has gotten used to a life of adventure, and sailing is probably never boring. and fjord and vandren can always go diving for treasure. they’re chosen by a water deity, after all.

and molly?

there are two courses of action, i think, and here’s the one i like the most:

all is said and done, after the nein kill the bbeg or solve the ancient mysteries or whatever, jester attempts true resurrection on molly.

and fails.

molly’s main thing is that he hates change. he lives wild and free and hedonistic and he wants to stay exactly that way forever. he disdains lucien/nonagon as someone who occupied this body before him. and his friends? will have grown and changed so much. he only knew them for thirty-nine days and now they’re all so different. i think molly was good with the life he lived, all two years of it, and was happy to go out as he did.

i bet he’s hanging out with vax in the afterlife, trashtalking everyone. and when the nein start dying for real, he’ll be in the welcome party.

but he isn’t going to come back.

the other course of action is of course the happy fairytale ending wherein molly comes back and there’s lots of hugging and he slots in perfectly in the nein, which--doesn’t seem possible to me, but why not! it’s great! molly can go adventuring with his best friend yasha and yasha’s wife, and beau, who has developed a worrying attachment to him, and jester who is so happy to have him back. he’ll go back to living wild and free and hedonistic. 

that story feels a little empty.

no, i much prefer molly staying dead and hanging out with vax and zuala and maybe bren’s parents? and they all watch the nein live happy lives and trash talk them and. just. be at peace. 

to end, let me paint you a pretty picture:

there is a house in nicodranas, not too far away from the lavish chateau. inside of that house are multiple teleportation circles, linking to the blooming grove and zadash and hupperdook and alfield and other places that are important to the nein.

there’s a kettle on the stove and a bunch of teas caduceus left during his last visit. luke is at the table, doing his homework--yeza is in the lab, mashing something, making something, while veth is testing some acids in the other lab.

caleb is curled up in front of the fire, frumpkin purring, reading a book on luke’s current homework so he can answer any questions his nephew(?) might throw at him.

just then the door bursts open and beau, jester and yasha flood in. “heeeeey everyone!” jester calls. “we’re hooooome!”

luke jumps up from the table. “did you bring me presents? did you, did you?”

“so many,” beau says, and mimes staggering under the weight. “little man, you’re getting spoiled.”

jester hugs caleb and says, “you don’t smell stinky!! did you take a bath?” and caleb says dryly, “ja, nicodranas has some very nice bathhouses.”

yasha doesn’t say much, but she smiles at luke, and when veth bustles in and hugs her hello, she drops a crown of exotic, fragrant flowers on her friend’s head.

there’s a knock on the open door, and fjord peeks in. “space for another one?” he asks.

“NO!” veth cries out, and everyone laughs.

just then, the teleportation circle activates, and caduceus steps out, bearing more mosses and tea. “i’m just in time,” he says. “that’s great. that’s really nice.”

and the water is hot, and the tea is made, and everyone’s around the table and laughing and tripping over all the stories they want to tell. jester saw kiri and taught her some new songs! she’s still very sweet. luke misses bryce so they’re going to alfield tomorrow. shakaste stopped by the blooming grove and sends his regards; there’s a letter for beau from keg on the mantle, she finally learned to spell her name. 

there are enough rooms in the house in nicodranas, but somehow everyone ends up bedded down on the floor in the living room, right by the fire. it’s not the tiny hut, but it’s close, what with everyone’s snoring and snorting and occasional kicking.

and they all lived happily ever after. the end.

[dunamanticarchivist]

Critical Role is Life: Reflections

Hooboy what an episode 26 was, what a way to break in the new studio. Spoilers ahead thar be so shy away if you must, I’ll see if I can give a teaser without spoiling in another post, but not right now. For now, I’ll just do what I always do when there are things to think about: Write as truthfully to myself as I can, a journal of sorts, if only to sort my own head out.

I’m in Asia atm, so while the episode closed, I had the rest of the day ahead of me, around 3pm onwards. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am still on summer break, so...nothing except to mope about. I read a bit of twitter, a bit of discord, gingerly browsed reddit, stayed the fuck away from twitch (im sry but twitch is....not my preferred viewing platform, its usually alpha with the chat closed, but connection hasn’t been the best so atm youtube, which is also how I started watching critical role) 

So I did my usual pondering on the meaning of life and the 5 stages of grief. But really, at 6pm I decided it was enough and decided to go for a swim (which the apartments at my place had a communal pool for). It was rather relaxing and helped put a good deal of distance between me and the more emotive parts of me that were, well, in shock. 

I can see how some people are more hurt than others; it cuts a little too close to home. For some, Molly has become a part of their identity and the empathetic pain is felt keenly. Others lament the situation in which he perished; ignominy of essentially killing himself, death in pursuit of slavers that took his friends, counting on a stranger who balked as things came to a head. 

Thoughts turned to the immediate future, what were the remaining adventurers to do? They are in the wilderness, with a departing caravan of slavers and 3 of their friends captive, whilst another lay dead on the ground. They’ve failed in their hasty rescue attempt, and one of them paid the blood price. They would need a cleric to resurrect Molly, and they may not even be aware whether it is possible given the time and resources they would need to find a cleric, seeing as the one cleric they know is currently being carted off. If I had to guess, Molly is very dead. (there goes the bargaining stage of grief)

I wanted to be angry, but at what? Fate? The cast? Don’t be silly, their RP was rather well done, maybe a tad bit much, but that’s what we’re here for no? I could still temper it into dislike for Keg the character, who I had rather liked up till that point, with the dual wielding aesthetic, gruff but jovial manner. But when it came down to it, she fled. She ran away from that which she swore vengeance on. She ran after Molly trusted her to have “got this”. One could argue that she redeemed herself by throwing herself at Lorenzo’s mercy to prevent a slaughter. For me its still a little too raw for forgiveness and I found myself wondering why she was not slain nor enslaved. (and perhaps, that was the anger stage)

Perhaps it would be the mindset of a chief slaver, one who thrives on fear, mistrust and pain, to sow the seeds of mental assault after a physical attack. And so I turned my mind away from that. I reject the blaming, the grief, the helplessness. I cannot change the fate of the Nein, they are the characters of the cast; if anyone were to feel most strongly about the turn of events, it would be them, not I nor we the viewers. 

What I can do, is to choose my reaction. I choose to learn, to comprehend (and consume, provoke etc etc things Fjord’s patron would approve of). 

It may be a cliche, but I’m starting to believe The good die young

The Chinese have a similar belief: the sharpest knives dull first, for they are used most often. Or that the most hardworking farm animals tire first, for they are most relied upon. 

Molly was an unabashedly Good character. He believed in doing a good turn, had a great appreciation for the littlest things in life and reveled in the act of living happy and free every day. His death, would be/is certainly a definite turn in the narrative of this campaign, towards the dark, akin to Diggory /Dumbledore/Dobby in Harry Potter. Narratively, fuck yes it makes sense. We have the first true arc of this campaign, a real villain to fight (Trent doesn’t quite count he is a smidge too strong to conceivably take on in the near future)

And so I choose not to grieve for Molly’s passing, but to celebrate his life. Although his eulogy should be delivered by the cast/fanfic authors who are much better at this, or it is perhaps even premature. For me, I took the rest of the evening to be happy with the little things in life I found today, like the crimson sunset, the cold air, the takeaway dinner for my family. 

Perhaps the rest of the Nein learned some things too. Beau could reconsider her headstrong plans, Caleb could realize that no plan survives contact with the enemy and maybe Nott could be quicker to reach for the crossbow as the first option. Those are just possibilities, and I’m probably rambling a bit. Considering its almost midnight here. And I just took one shot of Irish liqueur in memory of Molly (ok maybe not I actually just like Irish liqueur, but it seemed fitting)

T’was a long and fateful day, July 13th the Friday. A roller-coaster of events and not just from Critical Role, but I guess that they are similarly emotional draining is a sign for me that I can happily continue with this show, as I do my life. Raise your glasses for Mollymauk Tealeaf, and take a shot. 

[scarlettwriter91]

An idea sparked today while on my way home from a friends house. A oneshot for Tommy and Beth. So, naturally, now that I’m home, I fixed a cup of tea, laying off the coffee for a day or two, and pulled out my trusty laptop. 

Can I just tell you a little bit about Tommy first?

Tommy Anderson is the middle boy of a family of three boys. He’s so much like his brothers, but in the same instance, he’s also completely different. He is the only Anderson boy to inherit their fathers blond hair and blue-green eyes, instead of their mother’s dark hair and brown eyes. He didn’t quite gain his height, though, but at 5′10, he’s hardly complaining. He is confident to the point of being cocky, though he’s never mean about it. It’s just something that is. 

Tommy is a car guy. He and his dad rebuilt his 1967 Javelin from the ground up and he can often be found outside working on either it or one of the other vehicles that call the farm their home. He prefers American Muscle to Foreign cars though. And nearly every weekend he can be found out on the stretch of highway just outside of town with all the other local street racers vying for the chance to prove their worth. 

Tommy has proved his over and over again. There are very few things that Tommy loves more than a good race. 

His family takes the top spot here. Tommy would do anything, give up anything, for his brothers and parents. There was a point, as is the case with most young men, that Tommy and his dad butted heads nearly daily. They were just so incredibly different! Where James is cautious and calculating, preferring to think over every decision from every possible angle in order to pick the best choice, Tommy is wild and carefree like mustangs that roam untamed in the country, never staying in one place for too long, never thinking too much about what lies ahead, but rather living life moment to moment, for nobody but himself. 

But Tommy slows down for Ruth. He is without a doubt, a mama’s boy through and through. She also had that carefree spirit once. A long time ago, before she met James and became a mother. Not that she regrets those decisions at all. She couldn’t imagine her life without her husband and children. Plans just change is all. But she sees this side of Tommy that James often misses. On Thursday afternoons, they have coffee together. It was never a spoken commitment to each other, and yet regardless of what either of them were doing, it never failed that at two o’clock on Thursday afternoons, Ruth started a pot of coffee and within a few minutes, she would hear Tommy stomping up onto the back porch before coming in the back door with his usual grin and a, “Hey, mom. Got any pie?” Tommy loves pie. He would open the cabinet and pull down the coffee cup that had a picture of Mickey Mouse on it, then the two of them would sit at the old oak table and talk. Talk about everything and talk about nothing. It didn’t matter. They just talked. 

Wesley, being the oldest, has been Tommy’s hero for as long as he can remember. Long before Wesley went off and joined the Marines, though that certainly solidified his hero worship of him even if in the beginning, Tommy wished with everything in him that Wesley wouldn’t go. Wesley was the one that, up to and until such time as Beau became more grown up, Tommy went to for advice. He could talk to him in a way that he couldn’t talk to his parents. Again, as is often the case when it comes to brothers. But it was more than that. Except for a select few times, Wesley was without a doubt, Tommy’s most trusted friend. He knew that no matter what it was, Wesley would somehow have the answer. Even when it meant telling Tommy things he didn’t want to hear. And even on the rare occasion that Tommy felt betrayed by Wesley for one thing or another, he just didn’t have it in him to hold a grudge. It wasn’t part of who he was. 

Then there came Beau. From the moment that Tommy laid eyes on Beau through the window at the hospital, he knew that he would protect him from anything. And he did. Tommy was fierce in his protectiveness of all his family, but it was ten times stronger when it came to Beau. There was just nothing that he could imagine ever allowing to hurt his baby brother. Tommy had that charming and fun personality that just drew people to him. So he had lots of friends. It just worked out that way. But none of them compared to his friendship with Beau. Despite the four year age difference, Tommy almost always let Beau hang out with him. Even if he was with friends in his own age group. Because of that, Beau got to do a lot of things a lot earlier than he probably should have. Like street racing, but that’s another story. The way that Tommy hero worshiped Wesley was exactly the same way for Beau when it came to Tommy. There was just no one comparable to Tommy is Beau’s eyes. 

This is Tommy. Tommy who is smart and loyal. Funny and brave. Tommy who puts goldfish crackers in vanilla ice cream and always picked Dare over Truth. Tommy who plays the drums but also who on his mothers insistence that he learn something classical, can sometimes be found standing in the middle of his bedroom, a violin resting on his shoulder, his eyes closed as he plays Ashokan Farewell from memory. Tommy who despite his love of cars, could only be persuaded by one person to get on a motorcycle. Tommy who laughs so easily and almost never gets angry. Tommy who can’t dance to save his life but would try anyway for her. Tommy who prefers Star Trek over Star Wars and Indiana Jones over James Bond. Who wanted to be a Vet and had plans to take over the family farm. Who was perfectly content living in his little town with his family and friends by his side. 

This is Tommy. 

[cache861-blog]

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