#The dice gods in round two were MAD

[absolutepokemontrash]

Friends, I have finally run round 2 of my Obey Me! DND one shot! Two different parties, both times with me as the newbie DM!

I have learned many things, and had much fun, and I can’t wait to write y’all a summary of this because HOLY SHIT-

[paceprompting]

in the spotlight

First fic for @steddiesmuttyseptember!

(playful) Make-up sex | service dom | mile high club | pillow princess

rated: m | 4281 words

🍂

“I cannot believe you!”

Eddie stormed through the front door of the trailer and left it flung open behind him. He tossed his bag onto the couch, dice clattering and papers crumpling inside as it hit the edge of the cushion and then thumped to the floor. Eddie ignored it, making a clear path to the fridge to crack open a Coke.

Steve followed behind, wearing the same pleased-with-himself smile that he had been for fifteen minutes. He closed the door and stood in the living room, hands tucked into his front pockets. Standing there in his striped polo shirt and fitted jeans, staring at Eddie as though he hadn’t just derailed Eddie’s entire campaign.

That villain was supposed to last them through three more sessions and now, poof, defeated. Gone. Finito.

Eddie took a deep swig of his drink, fighting back to urge to cough when it went down rough.

“I cannot believe you,” he repeated, softer this time. And Steve still just smiled and ducked his head, because he knows what he did, damn it, and he still hadn’t apologized for it.

Steve tipped his head up, putting on display the moles scattered across his throat. He rolled his shoulders and then once again met Eddie’s gaze, still smirking. Still an asshole. He was beautiful, but Eddie was fighting quite hard to ignore that.

“Eddie, you asked me to play,” he said.

“Well, I didn’t think you were going to figure out my big villain’s weakness in two turns.” Eddie groaned and set his soda on the table, liquid spilling over the top onto the table. He ran furious fingers through his hair, lucky that none of his rings caught and yanked. “I worked on that thing for two weeks!”

And then, he’d had to ride in the passenger seat of the Beemer—because Steve was a decent boyfriend, damn him, and offered to drive Eddie. Steve had sent his campaign into utter collapse and then afterwards still made sure to get the door for Eddie and let Eddie grumble and mumble to himself the whole way home until he was ready to blurt it all out.

The entire time wearing his pleased little smirk.

“You can’t be mad that I defeated the bad guy. Mike roleplayed for fifteen minutes trying to get that sword he thought was secretly magic. I thought Dustin was going to claw his eyes out.”

Eddie did nearly chuck dice at Wheeler’s head when he refused to get the hint that there was nothing for him in that shop. But he was a decent DM, if he did say so himself, and he decided to wait properly until there was something in game that he could use to target Wheeler’s character. Not to kill him, just a slight maiming to remind him that he wasn’t the main character.

Until Steve Harrington just…Steve Harrington.

“And I would have properly punished him with a thorough smack-down, if someone hadn’t killed the villain first!”

Steve snorted and Eddie rolled his eyes. They’d had worse fights than this—arguments that were actually fights and not Eddie trying to keep his dignity without being a brat. Because it wasn’t the end of the world, but that wasn’t the point.

“It was a lucky shot. You can’t be upset about a guess,” Steve was saying, his shoulders coming down at the end of a shrug that Eddie had nearly missed.

And fuck yes, he could. Two rounds into combat, Steve pulled out a bow that shot frozen arrows and uncovered the key weakness to Eddie’s main villain! Of course, Eddie had forgotten that Steve’s character had gotten that weapon because he never used it. It was supposed to be something that the party learned over time.

God, Eddie had wanted Steve to try playing D&D so badly, he hadn’t stopped to think that it would mean Steve would be playing in front of him. Where Eddie had the best seat to see the whole table and never miss a single thing that Steve did: rolling dice, taking notes in his chicken scratch, and describing in detail how his character moved through Eddie’s world. Strong hands gesturing and flexing and—

Fuck. Focus.

“I’m not upset you beat him.” Eddie twisted the ring on his middle finger, stopping only when it caught on the tender skin. “I’m upset that it was hot!”

“Um,”Steve said, staring. “What?”

He let his hand fall from his pockets, brow furrowed in the way it did when Eddie’s strange behavior threw him for a loop. Steve knew what he looked like, knew where it could get him when he put it to use—but only when he was trying to get that attention. When he wanted to get the girl or get into bed, and he put on his best Harrington charm to do so.

He was never trying to entice Eddie while playing a nerdy little game with their flock of sheep, and that was almost worse. He wasn’t even trying, and still Eddie had nearly jumped his bones right there at the table.

Eddied started pacing in front of Steve, and the trailer didn’t creak like the old one used to, but Eddie’s steps were still heavy on the linoleum. “I asked you how you wanted to kill the monster. Yeah, I was already a little annoyed—”

“A little,” Steve echoed with a gentle tease, stepping close to Eddie and absolutely trying now. Ducking his head so his perfect hair fell just into his eyes and his voice dropped low and filtered into Eddie’s bloodstream.

And Steve had already derailed one set of Eddie’s plans tonight. Eddie wasn’t just going to let him do it again.

“Very annoyed that you’d beaten my villain and you’d rolled a damn nineteen to do it. And then you opened your mouth.” Eddie spun on his heel, pressing his hand against Steve’s chest and pushing back. Steve’s eyes widened as his surprise allowed Eddie to corral him against the front of the fridge and press the lines of their bodies together.

He started breathing a little harder, chest rising under Eddie’s palm, but he grinned all the same. It nearly floored Eddie every time, not only getting to see the expression up close, but because it was for him. The Freak somehow managed to get his hands on something beautiful, and he still wasn’t quite sure how.

Eddie curled his fingers into the fabric of Steve’s shirt, leaning into him. Smiling himself when Steve’s hand came up to rest on the side of Eddie’s ribs, holding him close. Eddie tipped his chin up to murmur against Steve’s mouth, just on this side of not really being a kiss.“And I forget sometimes that you know what you’re doing. That you’ve fought real monsters and, fuck, between the way you described the killing blow, using your hands to show me just how you’d do it, and seeing how far you’ve come from when you started.”

Steve blushed, a bright coloring across his cheeks, and let out a soft laugh. Almost self-conscious. Because Steve hadn’t been good at D&D, not at first. And he’d known that. The kids had known. He’d had to make mistakes in front of them to learn, starting timid and quiet until the party proved they were more likely to smack Mike upside the head for opening his big mouth than they were to get after Steve.

And he’d done it.

“You might even rival me as a DM one day if you keep it up,” Eddie said. Steve laughed again, but Eddie didn’t.

If it ever happened, he might have to tie himself to his chair to keep from launching himself at Steve, but he’d be the first one at the table for a Steve Harrington campaign. And he’d finally get to be back on the other side of flirting with the DM.

“Oh, I’d never take that from you. I could never keep it all straight,” Steve said, sliding his hand up from Eddie’s ribs to cradle the side of his jaw. He slipped his fingers into Eddie’s hair, deep into the curls and always on the right side of Eddie’s face to avoid where there had been a tender, healing wound where now there was a scar. He could touch it now, if he wanted to. But he never did.

“I wish you could see yourself sometimes; I get so caught up watching you I realize I wasn’t even listening. Which was fine when I wasn’t playing, and now I have to catch myself before you catch me not paying attention.” Steve pressed their foreheads together, always so warm and solid. Helped to keep Eddie together when physical therapy felt worse than all the bats trying to eat him.

Eddie preened at Steve’s admission. For anyone else, he would make sure to put on a show of idle threats about not giving their full attention to all his hard work. But that wasn’t completely fair to Steve, not when Eddie had just pinned him against the fridge because he was so hot and bothered from listening to Steve’s description of slaying a lizard king.

“Feeling’s mutual, babe,” Eddie murmured, going in for a kiss.

Steve’s hand tightened in Eddie’s hair, stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t yank or pull, just a soft pulse against his scalp followed by the warm embrace of Steve’s arm around Eddie’s waist. He fit his thigh between Eddie’s legs to settle them better, and then titled Eddie’s head to plant a soft kiss.

Eddie rolled his eyes before he closed them, moving his mouth along with Steve, his hands holding onto the front of his polo shirt. He arched his back to get closer to Steve, parting his lips in hopes of a little bit of tongue, but Steve denied him and pulled away instead. His head knocked lightly back against the fridge.

“Just had to be you who started it, huh?” Eddie teased.

Steve lolled his head in Eddie’s direction, pupils dark and dilated. He quirked the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Eddie drawled, but he didn’t get much farther than that before Steve hooked his ankle around Eddie’s and switched their positions, directing Eddie against the counter beside the fridge. The chain hanging from his belt loops smacked into the cabinets. But honestly, most of the furniture in the trailer had already been through worse between his and Steve’s activities and Eddie’s general lack of spatial awareness.

Steve put his thigh back between Eddie’s legs, and there was no way he couldn’t feel just how worked up he’d been since Hellfire, especially now that he had all of solidly muscled and warm Steve Harrington pressed up against him. He moved his hands out of the way, holding on the edge of the counter. He gave a pleased moan when Steve moved closer, closer and placed his lips at the curve of Eddie’s ear, brushing curls out of his way with his nose.

“But you had fun?” he asked, soft and low.

“For the most part.” Eddie tilted his head, silently asking for Steve’s mouth. More, always more. Because he somehow hadn’t found Steve’s limit on what he’d give.

He felt the puff of Steve’s breath against his skin. Shivered when Steve’s hands untucked his shirt from his jeans and eased underneath the fabric on the rough pattern of Eddie’s skin. He’d never wanted anyone to touch, to see what had happened to his body, but Steve had never asked. He let Eddie direct his hands there the first time and the few more times after until Eddie told him Fucking touch me already, I need your hands on me, Harrington.

“Feeling like you were in control? Getting to direct me around, at the whim of the DM?” Even though Steve was talking of Eddie’s domain over the party’s adventure, he cupped his hands underneath Eddie’s thighs and lifted him onto the counter.

“At the whim of the dice,” Eddie corrected through a gasp. There was already so much clutter that he could only balance on the very edge, but Eddie had no worries that Steve would let him fall.

“Yeah, but you’re in charge in of the show. Pulling the strings behind your screen, watching the pieces you set up fall into place. You want us to succeed, at least a little, but you don’t make it easy. Huh, baby?” Steve chuckled, fingers tracing along the seam of Eddie’s jeans where the curve of his butt started, even if he didn’t have as much as Steve in that department. It also didn’t mean Steve ever kept his hands to himself, thank God.

Eddie tried to rock his hips against Steve, but was held in place before he got very far. His blood thrummed through his veins, but he hated it at the same time. He wanted and his patience had been shit his entire life. But Steve’s was entirely too practiced and all Eddie could do was tip his head back and groan.

“Steve…”

He tucked his face into Eddie’s throat, teasing the edge of his teeth on sensitive skin. He dug it a little, just once, but Eddie flung his hand up into Steve’s hair and dug into the thickest part at the back. Eddie’s hair covered most marks and impressions of teeth, but it wasn’t always a sure thing. Not with Steve Harrington.

“I know how hard you worked on it. I’m sorry that it ended so quickly. But now,” Steve said, drawing one of Eddie’s legs up around his hip. “I’m going to make it up to you, all right?”

Eddie nearly panted. He knew Steve could carry him—at least to his bedroom. He’d done it before, but he was torturing Eddie with the possibility of it now. The wide spread of his palms across Eddie’s thighs, sleeves of his shirt tightening around his biceps as he flexed and readied to carry Eddie’s entire weight against his chest.

Eddie hoped that’s what was fucking happening, anyway.

“Steve, it’s not that big a deal,” he said. Playing along or trying to make sure that Steve wasn’t throwing more of himself than he needed to at the problem to try and earn back Eddie’s forgiveness. But Steve smiled against his throat and dragged his mouth back up to Eddie’s lips for a short, teasing kiss. He parted with a soft bite on Eddie’s bottom lip, much too pleased with himself.

“So you don’t want me to spend the next few hours doing nothing but kissing and touching and making you cum?” Steve practically purred, the words rumbling in his chest.

Eddie tipped back his head, letting out a huff of air toward the ceiling. “I didn’t say that.”

Steve got it in his head sometimes that Eddie needed to be laid out and taken care of. And that Steve needed to be the one to do it. Sometimes it was because Eddie was so close to vibrating out of his skin that it was either Steve take over or there was usually collateral damage that involved a mug or someone else’s short-term feelings when Eddie finally snapped.

And other times Steve just wanted to touch, to give everything he had to Eddie. He still wouldn’t admit it, but Eddie had long guessed that Steve clutched hard to those he cared about. To keep them from realizing that he was too much and leaving.

But Eddie broke the mold of “too much.” And he’d let Steve give whatever he wanted, because he was really taking at the same time. Taking what he needed from Eddie. Under the guise of the babysitter, the caretaker, making sure Eddie knew just how much he felt.

“I thought so,” Steve hummed, grabbing onto Eddie’s legs and lifting him up with a soft grunt. Eddie hooked his ankles together and gathered Steve’s hair into his hands, pressing his cheek to Steve’s temple. The low-burning embers in his gut whenever he was around Steve flared to life as he carried Eddie across the trailer into his bedroom.

It wasn’t the same level as it was before, but Eddie had managed to re-clutter most of the wall space and his new desk. Replaced all his D&D books and was working on replacing all his band tees. Federal goons had no sense of decorum when they’d hauled off the old trailer and left Eddie with whatever Wayne could grab before they kicked him out.

At least he didn’t have to replace too much of his tape collection. Bless Wayne for managing that.

But Wayne wasn’t there, working a shift with double pay until later that night. Feds were good for something, anyway.

There was only Steve, with his broad palms across the back of Eddie’s thighs, fingers digging into the bonier form of his ass until he could tip them both onto Eddie’s bed. The bed was low enough that Eddie’s boots laid flat on the ground over the edge of the mattress, even when Eddie laid completely on his back.

Steve planted his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, standing between Eddie’s legs. The swooping strands of his hair hung in his face, directing Eddie’s gaze to his eyes, brown and blown out and focused entirely on Eddie. He’d been growing it out just a bit, still recognizably Steve but evolved and more comfortable in his own skin.

Steve never did anything in bed by halves. Anything, period, really. He never seemed, even at the beginning, like he was trying to do anything he could to distract himself from the fact that Eddie was a guy. Steve had touched him everywhere as soon as Eddie let him, and his mouth usually followed right after. Always lingering, always exploring

Eddie pushed up onto his elbows and planted his mouth on Steve’s, both of them laughing through their noses when Eddie ended up knocking them together. Steve kept his hands on the bed, bracing only his fingertips, while Eddie slipped his tongue past Steve’s lips. He pushed up, up to make Steve stand. They had to stop kissing, but it wasn’t like either of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

His hands went straight to Steve’s belt, hooking behind the buckle to pull Steve close. He slid the end out of its loop, but that was as far as he got before Steve closed one hand around both his wrists—good fucking Lord, honestly—and pulled them away with a soft tutting sound.

“Uh-uh, you lie back right here. You’re not doing anything tonight, remember?”

Eddie frowned, obstinately keeping his fingers tucked in the space between Steve’s belt and the waistband of his obscenely fitted jeans. He was hard, Eddie could tell and take advantage of it by rubbing his thumb along the length through the denim.

Steve breathed out through his nose, eyes darkening. Eddie did it again. Didn’t care that it ended with Steve twisting his arm with the grip around Eddie’s wrists and leveraged them above Eddie’s head, laying him out on his back once again. He hovered over Eddie, breaths mixing in the small space between their mouths.

His free hand—because Steve only needed one to keep Eddie right where he needed him—slipped underneath Eddie’s shirt. Rough fingers dragged along his stomach, pushing the fabric up and revealing his scarred body to the open air. Steve kept going, letting Eddie’s hands free to start getting the shirt up over Eddie’s head.

“Get up by those pillows, sweetheart,” he said, tossing the Hellfire shirt aside. And Eddie did, backing up the mattress until he could rest his head on the pillows that covered up the entirety of his headboard when no one was sleeping in it.

Most of his life, he’d only ever used one pillow for himself. Even when he’d had to replace all his bedding, he’d only bought one. And then Steve had started coming over. Staying over night after night and somehow that meant Eddie had accumulated three more pillows in the process.

The only explanation he’d gotten was that Steve didn’t like smacking his elbow against the wall from his side of the bed.

Not that it had ever happened as far as Eddie knew.

But he thought it might have had something to do with this—the way Steve stared hungrily at him as Eddie lounged amongst the pillows. How his curls spread out around his head like a halo, inviting every bit of Steve’s attention. How he spread his legs with one foot tucked underneath his knee and let his arms splay on either side of his head.

Eddie liked it too. Being laid out for his boyfriend.

Something in his eyes must have flared with his thoughts, because Steve grinned and then crawled onto the bed after Eddie. He made quick work of Eddie’s jeans, flicking the button open with one hand, the showoff. Eddie made a show himself of rolling his eyes, but Steve was too busy stripping Eddie bare. He sat up onto his knees between Eddie’s open legs, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

It untucked his shirt just enough to flash a glimpse of the dark trail of hair leading into Steve’s jeans. It shouldn’t be so hot, not with the fucking striped polo Steve was wearing.

He still couldn’t convince Steve to wear a Hellfire shirt. He wanted to think that Steve was just fucking with him at this point in refusing, but sometimes Eddie wondered if Steve didn’t feel like anything more than a stand-in at the table. Even though he’d played with them for over two months straight—after sitting in on the end of the last campaign on top of that—Eddie didn’t know how to prove that Steve had long earned his spot in the party.

But the point was, Steve was exactly as he was when he’d walked into the trailer after Eddie. Striped polo, tucked into his jeans and his white sneakers tying off the boy-next-door look that Eddie adored despite his better judgment. Minus the flush to his skin, Steve was fully dressed.

He hadn’t taken off a single thing.

Eddie didn’t have a shred of clothing on him, decorated only with his ink and the rough sections of scars on his sides, his arms, the side of his jaw. And Steve was all covered up, the denim of his jeans dragging against Eddie’s burning skin when he leaned down and planted his mouth right on Eddie’s collarbone.

He tilted his head when Steve wandered upward, teeth grazing and biting lightly on his throat. Twisted the fabric of his ridiculous polo at the shoulder and rocked his leaking dick against Steve. Against the rough friction of his jeans, and Steve just moved his leg into a better position for him without needing to be asked.

Eddie whined, pushing his face into the closest pillow. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to, even when he had to twist his body in an awkward way to push up into Steve’s hand rolling a nipple between his fingers.

Sparks burst behind his eyes when Steve bit down at the junction of his neck and shoulder, but Steve was up and moving to put messy, wet kissed down Eddie’s chest and stomach before he could thread a hand through Steve’s hair and pull in retaliation.

Steve looked up at him from his spot at Eddie’s belly button like he knew exactly what he’d done.

He traveled lower, slow and syrupy kisses on the slight softness of Eddie’s belly. Then teasing bites on the tops of his thighs, down closer to the more sensitive skin. He didn’t move Eddie’s legs; waited until Eddie moaned and spread them for Steve himself.

Cradling Eddie’s hips in his hands, Steve licked and sucked his way to Eddie’s cock, leaking against his thigh. Took the head into his mouth with a soft hum, staying there as Eddie let out a soft moan.

Eddie could already tell what he was in for. Should have known immediately when Steve promised to make up for something that Eddie wasn’t even truly bothered by.

Steve wasn’t going to let him up from his bed until every inch of him had been marked either by a soft kiss or a sharp bite from Steve’s teeth. He was going to take Eddie all the way into his mouth, tease his entrance with gentle touches until Eddie squirmed and whined, but didn’t beg. He was still a brat about begging, and at this point it was more of a show than anything.

Steve was going to ruin him, slow and steady. Piece by piece, and keeping his clothes firmly on the whole time because Eddie liked to touch, but it wasn’t about Steve.

He was going to make Eddie cum from his mouth, first. That was one of Steve’s favorites, because damn if those particular rumors had turned out to be fucking true. And Eddie fucking reaped the rewards from it.

Then he’d get Steve’s fingers. Parting his lips to get wet and slick enough for one or two inside him, before Steve caved and went for the lube. He’d get Steve’s mouth and his hands, and that was usually when he started losing track between the parts of bare skin he’d manage to touch between the drag of Steve’s clothes.

All he’d know was Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve.

And all of his attention, the spotlight of Steve’s focus, would be Eddie.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

↳ summary: in which you and ten crash land in the tardis. again

↳ warnings: none! reader kept gender neutral as always

↳ song: line without a hook—ricky montgomery

masterlist!

If you could describe the Doctor in a few words, it would be out of his fucking mind.

You had been traveling with him for well over a year now—although at this point who really knew. You were operating a time machine half of the time.

But in all that time with him, warped or not, you were yet to completely nestle yourself next to the agent of chaos known as the Doctor. Instead, you were left scrambling to keep up with his whirlwind ways, enjoying it sometimes and rather not at others.

It was the latter at the moment.

Smoke poured from the Tardis's console in a funny red color, prompting a round of coughs to come from both you and the alien standing not but five feet from you.

"I swear to god—" You paused to cough some more, slightly jumping at the way the Doctor was currently banging a mallot on the control board, "—if you stuck us in the dark ages again I am going to strangle that skinny neck of yours."

The ruby red smoke had wafted away just enough to give you a good look at the Doctor's face now, allowing you to take in the way his glasses hung off the tip of his nose in a dangerous teeter. Like an acrobat performing a daring stunt on a rope. You might have found the sight cuter if it wasn't for the bumpy landing you had just been sucepted to. Probably the reason his glasses were dangling like that, now that you thought about it.

One would think after all the time the Doctor had spent with the Tardis he would take better care of it, treating the beautiful box like a newborn baby. But nope. Here you were, watching as he hit the thing like it was a vending machine that had stolen his money.

"No no no, not the middle ages. I made sure to specifically avoid that this time. I think." He finally responded, looking at you and blinking thoughtfully.

"Gee thanks. That really reassures me." You snorted. He just flashed a brilliant grin your way; the very one you can never manage to stay mad at for too long. Even if you were being chased by a hoard of intergalactic killers in the process.

"Oh come on!" He sang your name joyfully while connecting two wires to each other and igniting a spark. "Since when have I ever let you down? Sure, sometimes we get in what you could call a bit of a pickle, but we always get out of it! What's the fun in time travel if you can't experience a little toss of the dice!"

His words echoed about the big blue box as he rushed around, alarms blaring and machinery clicking with issues. You yourself were fiddling with bolts and nuts at this point in an attempt to help, more than willing to admit that you cared about the Tardis enough to get your hands dirty for repairs.

"Yeah, alright then mister smarty pants. Take us to a fun planet this time, yeah? I don't want to hear a single allons-y out of your mouth until we've set foot someplace without something trying to kill us!" A brown head of hair peaked over from his position at you, eyes drinking in your words with a cross between a pout and a thoughtful frown.

"I don't remember all my companions being this difficult." He lamented.

"If you call being difficult wanting to live, then you must not pick your companions very well." Your own head popped up to face his own, the both of you know kneeling on the ground peering at each other from opposite sides of the Tardis.

You stopped for a moment to look at the Doctor and his disheviled appearance from rushing around his ship wildly. You reached the conclusion that you must look the same way. What other reason would the Doctor be staring so softly at you for?

It didn't take long before a smile crept onto your face, a small laugh slipping past your lips as you saw the hilarity of the situation.

"Look at us." The Doctors own lips quirked up into a smile, head tilting slightly to the left. "On the floor with our hair sticking up all over the place. I probably look like a mad scientist right now." He giggled, propping his chip up on the metal of the keyboard before him.

"Not more than you usually do anyways." You grinned right back.

"Hey!"

"Sorry sorry! Couldn't resist." You apologized.

The Tardis chose that moment to let out a large shudder, the wooden encasing of it creaking dangerously. Your hands clenched into little fists, searching for purchase on any nearby surface in case of another crash landing. The Doctor mirrored the motion, only he wasn't so lucky as to stay upright, instead falling over onto the floor with a yelp.

"Alright over there?" You managed to yall over all the noise. You were provided with a thumbs up in response, the Doctor groaning from his position on his floor, not attempting to get up until the shaking of his ship had ceased.

"Don't suppose you could tell me what that was?" You attempted to brush imaginary dust and dirt off your pants as you stood up and cautiously crossed the distance between you and him—still afraid of another impromptu earthquake.

"Er, well, good news and bad news." He announced, pushing his glasses up and scratching at the back of his neck with a wrench that had seemingly appeared in his hand out of nowhere. You swore he was hiding an entire toolbox from you at this point.

"How about the good news first?"

"Well, we've landed. No longer floating amongst time and space without a set destination." He grinned, turning a few dials and nobs ferociously.

"And the bad news?" You prodded, searching for anyway to help improve this already out of control situation.

"I have no idea where we are." He finished with a flourish of his hands. You sent a deadpan look towards him as he twirled around to smile at you, placing his hands on his hips happily. "Exciting, isn't it?"

He hesitated when you didn't immediately respond with the same level of energy. Or any energy at all to be exact.

"You know, you and Donna would have gotten on really well I reckon." He sighed, carding a hand through his wild hair with a soft smile. As if imagining the frequently mentioned red head next to you. Something that you were sure he was doing.

"From what I've heard about her, yeah, we would." You huffed. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at your confession. He was curious to hear your reasoning.

"I'd personally enjoy someone smacking you upside that head of yours every now and then. Might knock some sense into you."

To enunciate your point you reached over to swat him on the shoulder with a grin, drinking in the way he pretended to be hurt just to amuse you.

"Oh how you wound me." The Doctor joked.

Jumping up suddenly, you were left trailing after your curious little alien man as he made his way to grab his coat, making a beeline stright for the Tardis's doors.

"I'll make you a deal alright?" He rubbed his hands together whilst you stuck yours in the inside of your pockets, nodding to let him know you were hearing him out.

"I go out first to see if there's any danger, and if I'm still alive to let you know that there's none, then we stay!"

He sounded proud of himself. As if he hadn't just proposed a situation that would possibly throw him into the center of a hostile planet.

"I dunno Doctor. As much as I like not dying, I'm not sure I like the idea of you dying any better." You kicked at the ground with a wince, not liking the way the image of a tombstone with the words The Doctor flashed through your mind.

"Oh come on!" He drew out the last word, stooping down to get closer to you. His bottom lip was slightly stuck out, almost as if in an act of pouting. "I haven't had the chance to go on a nice adventure with just us in ages! I'd like to finally be able to do that, you know."

His voice had gone a bit softer at the end, clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting from foot to foot. You blinked, taking in the way his eyes darted across your face in search of an answer. As if nervous, which was a first.

He was right, though. Neither of you had been preoccupied with other people the past few places you had gone. Of course, it had all been for the greater good. Saving millions of people's lives and whatnot. But you cared for the Doctor—maybe more than you wanted to admit—and who knows when you'd get the chance for some one on one time again?

"Okay." You caved in with a crooked smile, knowing you were going to follow him anyways no matter what. He had you hooked like that. "Let's go crazy man."

"Oh yes! You're brilliant, you are!" He whooped, snatching you up in a quick hug before dropping you to the ground again, leaving your head spinning with serotonin. You couldn't help but look at his eyes sparkling with joy and smile back.

"Can I say it now?" He cut off your train of thought, or rather lack of one as you stared into his warm chocolate eyes, with a hopeful glance.

"Say what?" You furrowed your brows, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.

"You know!" He waved his arms around wildly, looking quite silly. "The thing! That I say!"

It took you a moment before your creased brow relented into a knowing look.

"Oh yeah! Of course, of course. Yes, go ahead." You elbowed him playfully, surprised he even remembered your half-serious demand from a few moments ago.

"Well in that case—" The Doctor took his glasses off, closing them in one smooth motion while he beamed at you, "—allons-y!"

And then he opened the doors, giving way to a new chapter of your life.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[casxmorgan]

Books Books Books

100 Years of Solitude

11.22.63

120 Days of Sodom

1491

1984

A Brief History of Time

A Canticle for Leibowitz

A Child Called It

A Clockwork Orange

A Confederacy of Dunces

A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters

A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy

A Little Life

A Naked Singularity

A People's History of the United States

A Scanner Darkly

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A Short History of Nearly Everything

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Storm of Swords

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Walk in the Woods

A World Lit Only by Fire

Accursed Kings

Alice in Wonderland

All Quiet on the Western Front

All the Light We Cannot See

All the Pretty Horses

America, the Book

American Gods

American Psycho

And then There Were None

Angela’s Ashes

Animal Farm

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Anna Karenina

Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite

Anything Written by Robin Hobb

Apt Pupil

Artemis Fowl

Asimov's Guide to the Bible

Asoiaf

Atlas Shrugged

Bartimeaus

Batman: the Long Halloween

Battle Royale

Beat the Turtle Drum

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Belgariad Series

Beloved

Berserk

Bestiario

Black Company

Blankets/habibi

Blind Faith

Blindness

Blood Meridian

Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery

Bluest Eye

Brandon Sanderson

Brave New World

Breakfast of Champions

Bridge to Terabithia

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West

Calvin and Hobbs

Candide

Carrie

Cat's Cradle

Catch 22

Cats Cradle

Chaos

Child of God

Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

City of Ember

City of Thieves

Cloud

Collapse

Come Closer

Complaint

Confessions of a Mask

Contact

Conversation in the Cathedral

Cosmos

Crime and Punishment

Dan Brown

David

Dead Birds Singing

Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

Delta Venus

Die Räuber (the Robbers)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Don Quixote

Dragonlance

Dune

Dying of the Light

East of Eden

Educated

Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans

Enders Game

Enders Shadow

Escape from Camp 14

Ever Since Darwin

Every Man Dies Alone

Everybody Poops

Everything is Illuminated

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Fahrenheit 451

Far from the Madding Crowd

Faust

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson

Feet of Clay

Fight Club

First Law

Flowers for Algernon

Flowers in the Attic

Foundation

Foundation Series

Foundation Trilogy

Frankenstein

Freakonomics

Fun Home

Galapagos

Geek Love

Gerald’s Game

Ghost Story

Go Ask Alice

Go Dog Go

Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid

Goldfinch

Gone Girl

Gone with the Wind

Good Omens

Grapes of Wrath

Great Expectations

Greg Egan

Guards! Guards!

Guns Germs and Steel

Guts (short Story)

Half a World

Ham on Rye

Hannibal Rising

Hard Boiled Wonderland

Hatchet

Haunted

Hawaii

Heart Shaped Box

Heart of Darkness

Hellbound Heart

Hellraiser

Hell’s Angels

Helter Skelter

His Dark Materials

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hogg

Holocaust by Bullets

House of Leaves

How to Cook for Fourty Humans

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Huckleberry Finn

Hyperion

I Am America, and So Can You

I Am the Messenger

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant

In Cold Blood

In Search of Our Mother's Gardens

Independent People

Infinite Jest

Into Thin Air

Into the Wild

Introduction to Linear Algebra

Invisible Monsters

Ishmael

It

Jacques Le Fataliste

Jane Eyre

Jaunt

Job: a Comedy of Justice

John Dies at the End

John Grisham

Johnathan Livingston Seagull

Johnny Got His Gun

Jon Ronson

Journal of a Novel

Jurassic Park

Justine

L'histoire D'o

Lamb

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Les Miserables

Lies My Teacher Told Me

Life of Pi

Limits and Renewals

Little House in the Big Woods

Lockwood & Co.

Lolita

Looking for Trouble

Lord Foul’s Bane

Lord of the Flies

Lyddie

Malazan Book of the Fallen

Maldoror

Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media

Man’s Search for Meaning

Mark Twain’s Autobiography

Maus

Meditations

Megamorphs (series)

Mein Kampf

Memnooch the Devil

Metro 2033

Michael Crichton

Middlesex

Mindhunter

Misery

Mistborn

Moby Dick

Mrs. Dalloway

My Side of the Mountain

My Sweet Audrina

Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)

Naked Lunch

Name of the Wind

Neuromancer

Never Let Me Go

Neverwhere

New York

Next

Night

Night Shift

Norwegian Wood

Notes from Underground

Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea

Of Mice and Men

Of Nightingales That Weep

Ohio

Old Mans War

Old Mother West Wind

On Heroes and Tombs

On Laughter and Forgetting

On the Road

One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One of Us

Painted Bird

Patrick Rothfuss

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer

Persepolis

Pet Sematary

Peter Pan

Pillars of the Earth

Poisonwood Bible

Pride and Predjudice

Ready Player One

Rebecca

Red Mars

Red Night (series)

Red Shirts

Red Storm Rising

Redwall

Replay

Requiem for a Dream

Revenge

Riftwar Saga

Ringworld

Roald Dahl

Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Round Ireland with a Fridge

Running with Scissors

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind

Scary Stories to Read in the Dark

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Schindler’s List

Sein Und Zeit

Shades of Grey

Sharp Objects

Shattered Dreams

Sherlock Holmes

Sho-gun

Siddhartha

Sisypho

Skin and Other Stories

Slaughterhouse Five

Smoke & Mirrors

Snow Crash

Soldier Son

Sometimes a Great Notion

Sphere

Starship Troopers

Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Storied Life of A.j. Fikry

Stormlight Archives

Story of the Eye

Stranger in a Strange Land

Surely, You're Joking

Survivor Type (short Story)

Suttree

Swan Song

Tale of Two Cities

Tales of the South Pacific

The Alchemist

The Altered Carbon Trilogy

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

The Art of Deception

The Art of Fielding

The Art of War

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation

The Autobiography of Henry Viii

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Beach

The Bell Jar

The Bible

The Bloody Chamber

The Book Thief

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brothers Karamazov

The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories

The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)

The Catcher in the Rye

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Clown

The Color out of Space

The Communist Manifesto

The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The Dagger and the Coin

The Damage Done

The Dark Tower

The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights

The Devil in the White City

The Dharma Bums

The Diamond Age

The Dice Man

The Discworld Series

The Dresden Files

The Elegant Universe

The First Law Trilogy

The Forever War

The Foundation Trilogy

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence

The Geography of Nowhere

The Girl Next Door

The Girl on the Milk Carton

The Giver

The Giving Tree

The God of Small Things

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gilly Hopkins

The Hagakure

The Half a World Trilogy

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Hiding Place

The History of Love

The Hobbit

The Hot Zone

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hyperion Cantos

The Jaunt

The Jungle

The Key to Midnight

The Killing Star

The Kingkiller Chronicles

The Kite Runner

The Last Question (short Story)

The Lies of Lock Lamora

The Little Prince

The Long Walk

The Lord of the Rings

The Lottery (short Story)

The Lovely Bones

The Magicians

The Magus

The Martian

The Master and Margarita

The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect

The Monster at the End of This Book

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)

The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear

The Necronomicon

The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing

The Night Circus

The Nightmare Box

The Odyssey

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Orphan Master’s Son

The Outsiders

The Painted Bird

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Phantom Tollbooth

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Plague

The Prince

The Prince of Tides

The Princess Bride

The Prophet

The Queen’s Gambit

The Rape of Nanking

The Red Dwarf

The Republic

The Rifter Saga

The Road

The Satanic Verses

The Screwtape Letters

The Secret History

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

The Selfish Gene

The Shining

The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer

The Silmarillion

The Sirens of Titan

The Six Wives of Henry the 8th

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

The Speaker of the Dead

The Stars My Destination

The Stormlight Archive

The Story of My Tits

The Stranger

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher

The Tao of Pooh

The Things They Carried

The Time Machine

The Time Traveller’s Wife

The Tin Drum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

The Wasp Factory

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

The World According to Garp

The Yellow Wallpaper

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Things Fall Apart

Thirsty

This Blinding Absence of Light

Tiger!

Time Enough for Love

To Kill a Mockingbird

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Toni Morrison

Too Many Magicians

Traumnovelle

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuf Voyaging

Undeniable

Under Plum Lake

Universe in a Nutshell

Unwind

Uzumaki

Various

Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia

Walden

War & Peace

War and Peace

Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Watchers

Water for Elephants

Watership Down

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Wheel of Time

When Rabbit Howls

Where the Red Fern Grows

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Why I Am Not a Christian

Why People Believe Weird Things

Wizards First Rule

Wool

World War Z

Worm

Wuthering Heights

You Can Choose to Be Happy

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

[mc-doppomine]

Day 21 Bonus: Fling Posse vs Mad Trigger Crew

Man this was the loaded fight for this whole season. And it’s in the FIRST round. Like I was so sure on both of these guys having like the most going on in this DRB and thought that their fight would’ve been like later...not out the gate. So I was like ‘oh.’ Yeah, I was legit intimidated by that fight so I chose not participate because I did not want to be held responsible for any fallout from whatever happened. This was like a super hard fight in terms of story but I’ll choose to do the music first since the other aspect would take some explaining.

Including the before 2nd DRB for the solos and then the battle album now......I’m so sorry but FP blew MTC out of the water. It really wasn’t much of a fight in that aspect. All of the before 2nd DRB for FP was great. Like those tracks are my favorite song for each individual rapper. Although to be fair, a lot of the 2nd DRB albums gave me the favorite solos of the characters. MTC included...except Rio’s...I feel he gets slighted to often and I feel like I have to say the most bad stuff about him. It’s probably the whole soldier thing. But yeah, it’s completely just the whole pop vs any other genre to me...but Black Journey just beat out Hunting Charm in terms of its appeal. 

So then I run into the battle. And let me just say, what a bop. And it was solely it’s boppability that edged it past Light & Shadow. But it feels like it embodies both teams vibes somehow. And I love it. As for the fight itself...yeesh, it was a massacre. And I was a little sad because this was the song I thought Jyuto was the smoothest and still lost for me. Tragic. But I think Rio and Dice’s politeness before absolutely ripping into each other was wonderful. But I think the BB line just took it for Dice. And then it was no real contest with Jyuto and Gentaro, he said he’s bought to feast on you, rabbit. Please back down graciously. That was Gentaro’s best verse, I’m sorry that this was what you had to go against 

And then there’s Samatoki and Ramuda’s verses. Aahhhhh, it was tough to be honest because Samatoki sounded like he’d make good on this threat on FP with the shot to the head and tearing them apart. Meanwhile Ramuda is just so good at being a nuisance to others and exploiting it. But I think the voice drops just did me in. I’m sorry Samatoki. So yes, FP took the battle for me.

As for the story, I really thought it was gonna be a difficult decision with these two. Because before the battle season they really had a...Reason to Fight. Like FP’s is more dire because Ramuda’s actual life is in danger. But MTC also had the need to go in because Samatoki had reason to believe that Chuuoku may be manipulating his sister and depending on his crew’s goals...her life would end up in danger. They have such strong reasoning from their leaders alone and a loss would hurt either team severely. 

...At least I had this idea until A Dream...for Good or Evil drama track. I feel like that deescalated the situation quite a bit. Like I am all for Nemu’s motivation and work on herself. I didn’t expect it and was pleasantly surprised. But it also kind of knocked down the danger in engagement for MTC...sorta. Because while Samatoki is still willing to go up and then drag her back home, WE know Nemu doesn’t need nor want any sort of help. At this point it only got raised a bit from Honobono and her interaction with Jyuto but even that didn’t feel like enough to kick back up the urgency for MTC. 

Meanwhile in Catch Us If You Can drama track, we’re just cemented to the fact that Ramuda is still unwell and will continue to so long as his supply of candies dwindle. And then it’s exacerbated because now FP as a whole were in danger of being hunted by both the clones and by Honobono. The stakes only rose for them. 

Then we’d have to consider where their battles lead...MTC vs DH would be Samatoki getting closure with Sasara. Despite not getting it, Samatoki showed an immense amount of restraint as he didn’t even draw his mic on Sasara. But he wanted to know and while he hasn’t HAD to think on it for a while, the battle throws it in his face. And now Sasara can’t run from him, which works in his favor. I don’t think MTC would know anything about Rei to really get in a fight with him unless Rio recognized him but even that I’m not sure is enough to really cause a friction with the two crews. 

MTC vs BB is War War War all over again. But I think it would be a chance for reconciliation for Samatoki and Ichiro the only way they know how (fighting). Especially since now it’d be known who Ichiro’s dad is and Samatoki being able to empathize with having a piece of shit dad and keeping those ghosts from taking what he has. Also he has no reason to fight Ichiro anymore. Not knowing what he does now and having already smashed his feelings with the eldest Yamada in the last battle season. I feel like Jiro could get along with MTC easier now along with Saburo as they have had time to think how MTC isn’t really their enemy outside of this competition. They took on a grudge that wasn’t theirs and now they don’t have to have it. And I hope that they take that angle. 

MTC vs BAT I can’t think of too much for. I don’t think there was much interaction from any side outside of Samatoki and Kuko’s short time in MCD. I think Hitoya would steer clear of MTC as he doesn’t want Jyushi or Kuko wrapped up with them despite Kuko’s knack for finding trouble. 

MTC vs MTR I can’t think of being as intense as their last time since they really didn’t have reason to hate each other outside of they’re the opponents. Although It would be interesting to see how they’d duke it out knowing each other’s abilities a little better. Maybe there’s a chance of Samatoki asking Jakurai to see if his ability could heal his sister and Jakurai not being mean, wouldn’t be opposed regardless of win or loss. Although it could be mutually beneficial if Jakurai could ask Samatoki to deal with Honobono so that it didn’t lead to trouble for his team. Doubtful but interesting nevertheless. 

Going on to flip the script FP vs DH would really only boil down to Rei’s machinations for this battle. I did go back and he did say he had further use for Ramuda after the 1st DRB. What is this use? Is it like a backdoor to Ramuda that obviously the creator would know? Ramuda doesn’t seem to be quite conscious of Rei for some reason and I wonder why that is. I don’t think he’d really have reason to target Gentaro unless it is the idea that he knows whatever secret Gentaro is keeping. Which I feel Gentaro has a major secret but we have yet to have the full picture as to it. And lastly Rei knows who the fuck Dice is. He knows who’s watching him. It’s a secret that the group doesn’t even know Dice is keeping. It’d be hella shady though if Otome was like ‘I’d entertain your whim so long as you get rid of this guy for me.’ Which if it was for Ramuda...Dice would less argumentative against it but he’d have to know why. Even if I don’t feel he dislikes his mother, he isn’t proud of her by any means either. 

FP vs BB...god I am sort of curious because I can’t think of much of a fight between them. Like Ramuda never seemed to think much of Ichiro and vice versa. Although I almost feel like Ichiro knows about Ramuda’s secret but said nothing because it’s not his business as I believe he was the one that had remarked to Ramuda ‘hey do you have a twin?’ in TDD. I also feel like Gentaro can start another rivalry he will never let go with Jiro...just because thoughtless words tend to find him. A lot. I feel like Saburo could also break the secrets on FP while looking into them and finding them...odd. But overall it’s too vague to imagine.

FP vs BAT...haaaaaa, I got nothing. I’m sorry, I haven’t found any sort of connection or thread with them to go onto.

FP vs MTR woooooooo. Not only do we get Battle Battle Battle remix, but they just have so much that can go on between them. They both have a mutual enemy in Honobono, whom seems motivated either by her job (with FP) or personal amusement (with MTR), in serving as an antagonist to them. While it would be cool for them to link up and deal with her, I feel more like they’ll beat the other and leave them as like an offering to her while they deal with their own problems. Which would honestly just make them both easy pickings for her. She seems to understand the heart of both teams and I could see her using that against them such as Jakurai’s compassion, Hifumi and Doppo’s defense and  Dice and Gentaro’s desperation. 

Then there’s the whole issue of them being wanted by Chuuoku for differing reasons. I don’t know how but that could work for the other team if they knew about the motives of their opponents. And also it would be a chance for Ramuda and Jakurai to have some semblance of reconciliation because they wouldn’t want to see the other used by Chuuoku. Even if they can’t stand each other. There’s a difference between disdain and suffering.

But based on all of that...it is pretty easy for me to slot for FP in this fight. So overall FP would’ve been who I go for in this DRB round. 

[snowdice]

Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Remus/Virgil (mostly Logan/Remus for this)

Characters: Logan, Remus, Virgil

Summary: Logan finds a strange man on his property and of course invites him in for tea.

Universe: Cops and Criminals

Genre: Crime

Notes: Non-consensual drug use, morally grey Logan, cop Remus

*Grits teeth* Do not create a new AU Adriana. PUT. IT. DOWN.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universes, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

Logan returned home to an interesting sight. There was a man peering into his front window through the blinds of his house. Logan paused on the sidewalk and observed the man for a few moments with his arms crossed. “Can I help you?” he eventually asked.

The man spun around in surprise, but quickly did his best to recover, squaring his shoulders and plastering a serious look on his face. “Are you Virgil Sanders?” he asked.

Logan cocked an eyebrow. “No.”

That seemed to throw him. “Oh,” he said. “Is… is this your house?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” he said, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I, um, like your shrubs?”

“The ones you are standing in?”

“…Yes.”

“If you’re planning to burglarize me, I’d advise against it,” Logan said. “I have only a few things of value and of those, most are my research which you likely could not easily exchange for money.” He tilted his head and thought for a moment. “Well, I do have a television, but I rarely use it and it’s very old. You’d be doing me a favor really; I wouldn’t have to find a way to take it to the dump once it finally ceases working.”

“I’m not a burglar.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m a police officer,” he explained. “I’m looking for Virgil Sanders.”

“Whatever for?” Logan asked.

“That’s official police business.”

Logan tilted his head. “Virgil doesn’t seem like the type to commit a crime and he hasn’t mentioned witnessing any.”

“You know Virgil Sanders?” the man asked.

“He’s my roommate,” Logan answered simply.

“Wait so I am at the right house!” the man exclaimed. “Why did you say I wasn’t?”

Logan squinted at him. “I said nothing of the sort.”

There was a long pause. “I guess you didn’t.”

“Virgil will be home in half an hour,” Logan said. “You can come in if you’d like.”

“Sure,” the officer said. “Royal, by the way. Remus Royal.”

“Logan Berry,” Logan replied, struggling to unlock the front door with the bag in his arm.

“Oh, here let me help,” Officer Royal said, grabbing the bag from him. “Oh my god, what’s in this? Rocks?” he asked immediately, stumbling forward a bit at the unexpected weight.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “I just taught a seminar on metamorphic rocks and have my case of samples in it.” Logan finished unlocking his door.

“…Oh.” The officer said. “Huh. You must have a lot of muscles under that nerdy shirt.”

Logan looked back at him for a moment. He just grinned innocently. Logan shook his head and walked into the house. “You can set the bag by the door.”

He heard the man obey as he walked into the kitchen and went straight for the tea kettle. He needed tea to deal with this day.

The officer shuffled into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” Logan instructed, waving at the kitchen table.

He readied the tea pot and chose a blueberry flavored tea before grabbing two mugs. He filled each mug with tea and walked over to the table.

“I don’t make a habit of accepting drinks while on official business,” Officer Royal said when he sat one of the mugs down in front of him.

Logan rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to have done with it?”

“Oh, there are all sorts of things someone could put in tea: hallucinogens that drive you mad, poison that tears apart your insides, cinnamon.”

Logan couldn’t help but snort. He quickly covered his mouth, but the police officer’s eyes still flickered up to his and he grinned. “What if you get thirsty waiting for Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Guess I suffer.”

Logan hummed. “Well, allowing that would make me a bad host. What if I take a sip of it so you know for sure there isn’t any cinnamon in it? Would you drink it then?”

He considered. “Sure,” he said after a moment. “Why not?” Logan picked the mug back up and took a quick sip out of it, Officer Royal’s eyes intent on him.

“Does that suffice?” he asked.

The officer nodded and took the mug from him. “Thanks.”

Logan waved him off. “Of course.” He sat down in the seat across from him.

“So, you’re a professor?” Remus asked.

“Just a guest lecturer. Grading and dealing with undergraduate students are not activities I relish in the idea of. I prefer to focus on my research and travel when I wish rather than being a professor. It makes for a less predictable life, but more rewarding.”

“Sounds like an interesting career path. I didn’t peg you as someone who likes danger like that.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I have a good sense for people.”

Logan smiled into his tea. “Do you?”

Officer Royal’s eyes narrowed on him. “Do you doubt me?”

“Of course, not Officer Royal.”

“You can call me Remus,” he offered.

“Remus then,” Logan accepted, “What do your impressive police officer senses say about me, then?”

Remus sat back and considered him for a long moment. “You like Science Fiction.”

Logan glanced down at the Doctor Who mug Virgil had gotten him for Christmas. “And how ever could you have figured that out?” he asked dryly.

“You have a degree in geology.”

“I came home with a bag of rocks, Remus.”

“You’re usually the smartest person in the room.”

“Well that’s just a fact.”

Remus grinned and then leaned forward like he was telling him a secret. “You like men.”

Logan leaned forward himself. “Wistful thinking.”

“Doesn’t make it false.”

“Hmm. Perhaps not.”

Remus’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to make hypotheses about Logan which grew more and more personal each time. Logan had to admit, he was quite entertaining. Logan even shared a few of his jam filled thumbprint cookies with him as they spoke as a reward for the amusement.

“Here,” Logan said quite a while later, picking up both of the mugs. “Virgil should be home in a few minutes. Have one more cup of tea.”

He accepted easily and took another cookie, continuing to blatantly flirt until Logan heard the front door open.

“Hey Lo, I’m home,” Virgil called.

“In the kitchen Virgil,” he responded.

Virgil walked into the kitchen and his eyes fell on Remus. “Who’s your friend?”

Remus stood quickly to turn to him. “I’m Officer…” but then he paused, wavering a bit on his feet. “Uh… I.”

Virgil hopped forward on instinct to catch the man as he fell. Always good in an emergency, Virgil. Logan rounded the table.

“Woah, dude what happened?” Virgil asked, lowering him down carefully.

“I…” Remus said, squinting up at Virgil.

Logan leaned forward while the two were distracted and grabbed the handcuffs off of Remus’s waist before quickly snapping one of the cuffs around Virgil’s wrist and attaching the other to the kitchen table.

There was a pause. “Lo, what the hell?” Virgil asked.

“Apologies,” Logan said getting to his feet, “I did not want you coming home to an unconscious body and contacting the authorities before I had time to get away.”

“Oh fuck,” Remus said, leaning his head back against the floor.

Logan just hummed. “Virgil isn’t the hacker I assume you’re looking for, by the way,” he informed the man.

“Holy shit, what the hell are you talking about?” Virgil asked, pulling at the cuffs.

“I’ve been running a criminal enterprise off of my laptop Virgil, please keep up.”

“Shit,” Remus said. He was clearly fading from consciousness.

“Unfortunately, the police are getting far too close for comfort. So, I will have to be going. I set up an account to make automatic payments for the rest of the lease, so don’t worry about that. You won’t see me again.”

“And you’re just going to leave me here cuffed to a fucking table? I thought we were friends.”

Logan reached down and patted him on the head. “We are, Virgil. That’s why you aren’t currently drugged. Don’t worry, the drug in his system will wear off within a few hours and I’m sure he’ll release you then. In the unlikely event he happens to die from it, well, I’m sure another police officer will be dispatched to track him down before you can suffer any ill effects from dehydration.”

With that, Logan turned away from him. He would regret never seeing him again; he quite liked Virgil, but such was life. He ignored Virgil’s yelling as he packed up what little he needed and slipped out of house with no plans to return.

Want to read more? This is part of a series and the next part is Matboards and Subway Sandwiches.

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 5

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because it’s dinner time!

Last time in book: Kylan and Naia have joined forces with Rian to overthrow the Skeksis. Rian’s plan is to go to the All-Maudra with his claims and a vial of Mira goo. To kill time before dinner with Rian’s family, Kylan reads a bunch of rocks and Naia has a nap.

Chapter 5

Dinner is awkward for everyone. Then the plot comes knocking. Rian, Kylan, and Naia make a game plan.

Oops, this is a slightly bigger chapter that ruined my one week streak! But its also a really good chapter that I quite enjoyed!

Mythra leads Kylan and Naia into the kitchen and introduces them to mom Shoni and little brother Timtri.

Like most Stonewood Gelfling, she had long dark hair, and her soft wings were brown and red, with two large black eyespots accented by other dappleso f orange, gold, and tan.

Shoni pretty.

She stops preparing dinner to greet the guests.

Shoni set down her chopping knife and rounded the table to cup Naia’s face and then Kylan’s. Her hands smelled of spices and carrots. It was a warm gesture that Kylan had seen many mothers do, although he couldn’t remember much about his own mother, and certainly Maudra Mera would never have done something so kind to him.

OH MY GOD

Shoni pls adopt this boy right now!

That’s the relationship I ship, Shoni adopts Kylan.

Because, geez, the more Kylan and Mera’s relationship is expounded on, the sadder I feel.

“Hello, my sweets. I’m glad to finally meet you. Please, sit down. Ignore Rian if he’s cold to you. Rian! Fetch our guests something to drink, would you?”

“I can do it, Mother,” Mythra suggested, but Shoni waved her away.

“I want him to do it. It will be good for him.”

Wow. Savage. Rian is having a bad time in these opening chapters.

So, dinner is served on a stone table that seems to be growing out of the ground, leading Kylan to wonder whether the hut or table came first. Dinner is nuts, spiced peach-berries, and diced root.

I wonder if Stone-in-the-Wood doesn’t eat a lot of meat or whether this family doesn’t. Probably meat is a special occasion food.

Shoni asks about how far they’ve traveled which starts a conversation about Landstriders which makes Kylan feel like crap because he’s bad at all the Spriton things.

[Kylan] didn’t want to tell them about his brief foray into riding, the majority of which involved falling off, spooking the beasts, or a combination of the two. Galloping across the plains was one of the many Spriton traditions Kylan had seen much and done little of. There was that, and spear mastering, and bola throwing...

Geez. Kylan needs a hug. And some self-confidence. And another feel good day full of reading.

Actually, its an awkward dinner for other reasons too. Naia mentions that she’s thankful Kylan was good enough at riding to guide them away from the castle and Rian, grim boy that he is, mentions its good because if they didn’t have a Landstrider they would have been caught by the Skeksis.

“Rian!” Shoni scolded. “Now’s not the time. Can’t we enjoy one meal as a family without mentioning... that?”

“I don’t know, Mother. Can we even call ourselves a family when Father -.”

“Enough.”

o_o

Wow. I guess Skeksis are the politics of Thra and discussion of them will just ruin dinner. That and Ordon is hunting down Rian for the Skeksis. Imagine thats contributing.

Rian just bringing it up like that smacked me in the face though.

Shoni flicked her wings once, shrugging off the little argument

Wiiiiiiiing body language! I loves it!

Shoni switches the conversation to safe small talk and asks what the Drenchen do for fun, leading Naia to an enthusiastic explanation of various fun swamp activities.

Here’s one I like.

“When I was younger and argued with my sisters, my mother used to throw gems into the deeper parts of the swamp and make us find them before they sank into the mud. If we couldn’t find a gem, we had to do chores under Great Smerth, cleaning mites from the roots and such.”

That’s good swamp parenting.

Everyone is getting into the conversation about swamp activities. Kylan thinks that Naia sounds like she’s bragging, but in an endearing way. Even Rian seems to be listening to the conversation.

He jumps in to mention that Gurjin told him about the bola tourneys held and starts discussing comparative bolas with Naia. How the Drenchen bola uses shorter rope so it has more force and less chance to tangle.

And Naia gets into the topic of bolas and tries to bring Kylan in to talk about Spriton bolas.

Kylan shrank a little into his shoulders. He appreciated her attempt to include him, but the truth was, he didn’t know how shorter or longer rope changed a bola, or whether smaller or larger stones would be better in the field or forest. He didn’t know, and a part of him didn’t even care. He shrugged.

“I guess,” he said.

His contribution was so small and green, it almost killed the tiny flame of conversation entirely. Naia was ready with kindling words.

I really like that metaphor. But also, wow, this is like every awkward family dinner smooshed into one.

“Kylan is a song teller, and a dream etcher. A very good one! And even so, he can still throw a bola. He struck skekMal the Hunter square in the face.”

Again, Naia was only trying to help, but to Kylan, it sounded less like an endorsement and more as if she were trying to excuse him. As if being a song teller explained his athletic ineptitude, and his single victory in combat redeemed him.

=(

I don’t know how many ways I can say wow what an awkward dinner. Poor Kylan.

Rian grunts approvingly of Kylan bonking the Hunter and adds that he’d love to do that himself one day.

Then the dinner gets EVEN MORE AWKWARD as Maudra Fara shows up. (Fugitive Rian of course hides while she’s visiting.)

An older Gelfing stood outside, dressed in indigos and greens, her dark burgundy-and-gold wings folded along the length of her back like a cloak. From the beads and ornaments woven into her dark hair, Kylan realized who she must be.

Maudra Fara is also pretty.

But she’s here on business. And for Kylan, specifically. She saw a Spriton on the rise and figured hey, a Spriton. Then she received a note about a Kylan.

She tells him “Before you wonder -- it is bad news.” Just ripping the band-aid off. That’s the Fara I know!

To my maudra sisters:

Take note. Lords skekLach and skekMal arrived early this morning. They sought one of mine, a runaway named Kylan. They say he is a traitor. When they did not find him, they took three others as collateral. If you know of Kylan’s whereabouts, send him to me, and I will take responsibility for him.

In Thra’s song,

Dream Stitcher Mera

aw crap Kylan is a fugitive now too.

(I wonder what skekMal’s title is when he’s not being a serial killer. He can’t go by Hunter because that’s his secret identity.)

Naia gets rightly offended at the Skeksis, pointing out that they’re not even hiding their cruelty and accuses them of taking hostages for snacks.

Maudra Fara tells Naia not to talk like that but out of fear instead of loyalty. When Naia keeps talking, Fara just. Pretends she’s not.

Fara is median cool. She’s clearly not willing to risk her village by sticking her neck out and probably wouldn’t back up Rian if he went to her, just as he feared. But instead of capturing Kylan, she gives him this headsup and a head start.

“If Shoni has welcomed you to her home, I won’t betray her hospitality tonight. But the Skeksi are looking for you, and my duty is to my clan. By the time the suns rise, you must be gone from here. Go to your maudra or do not. Go anywhere but here. I’ve got enough on my hands with Rian missing in the woods we share with the Skeksis. I can’t risk the safety of my people any more. Please understand.”

=(

Kylan understands logically but still feels like a kick in the gut to so suddenly be kicked out. And its not explicitly stated but since he is half Stonewood, Kylan has basically been alienated from both of his homes. If he goes to Sami Thicket, Mera will turn him over to the Skeksis. And Fara has made it clear that she won’t risk her people for him.

Even if he hadn’t chosen to continue the quest earlier, he’d be stuck with it.

This is just a huge bummer of a dinner!

Kylan throws the note into the fire but since the paper was enchanted to resist the heat of dream-etching, it takes some time to burn.

H-hey! A neat trivia about dream-etching!

Naia gets mad on Kylan’s behalf who is too kicked in the guy and worried. But Rian comes out of hiding with a more different take. Or at least acceptance.

“She would have sent me away, too, if she’d known I was here. I can’t fault her for it. It’s her duty to do what’s best for the entire clan, not just one or two, or even three of us... The Skeksis will eventually come here, and they will do what it takes to scare the others into giving us up. The only thing that may save us is if no one knows our whereabouts and if we reach the All-Maudra as soon as possible. We should do as Maudra Fara says and leave. Tonight.”

Kylan is too focused on who the Skeksis took from Sami Thicket and whether attempting to rescue them would be a waste of time. And when he comes out of his musing he’s arrived at a different conclusion than Rian.

Not that they don’t need to leave but that heading to the All-Maudra isn’t a good enough plan. Because the Skeksis won’t stop preying on Gelfling or coming after Kylan and Rian and other Gelfling are going to get caught in the crossfire.

Kylan thinks that they should let all Gelfling know the truth so that they can take precautions to protect themselves. But he also gloomily thinks that maybe people will be unwilling to listen to the truth, like Maudra Fara.

Naia sides with Kylan.

“We will tell the All-Maudra,” Naia announced. “But Kylan’s right. The rest of the Gelfling need to know, too. If we focus all of our efforts on reaching the All-Maudra and waiting for her decision, many of our people could be taken by the Skeksis in the meantime. We have to find a way to spread the message faster, and sooner. Like dreamfasting.”

But even with Naia’s Super Cool Dreamfasting it would take too long. They’d have to touch hands with EVERY GELFLING.

Its just not practical and its not like there’s some kind of fire skype! The Gelfling are still in the courier stage of communications technology, drat it!

Shoni pops in and mentions that they could take the path to the High Hill making Rian groan that Aughra will be no help.

Blowing away Kylan that Mother Aughra, huge figure in Gelfling culture, is just casually an option here.

Aughra who is probably as old as the suns, called maudra Thra, lived through the only two conjunctions, and knew the world before Gelfling existed.

That Aughra. Is casually an option. And just casually lives nearby!

“Her home is near our wood, though few make the trek to see her. Even those who arrive often do not find the answers they are looking for... Some find nothing at all. But I think, given how empty our table is, even a crumb would look like hope.”

A rebellion resistance is built on hope!

I’m intrigued that she appears to not be napping forever in this version which makes one wonder why she hasn’t gotten involved because even at her movie grumpiest, she wasn’t callous. She saved Fizzgig the Fizzgig to no benefit to herself.

So what’s her deal in this continuity? And is she as grumpy?

“She’s nothing but a mad witch spouting nonsense and riddles,” Rian grumbled.

“You’ve met her?” Naia asked, as surprised as Kylan but more practical about how the news could serve them. “So you know the way! We can ask her if she knows how we can send out warning.”

“She won’t help!” Rian snapped, his voice escalating suddenly. When Kylan and the others fell quiet, he tried to settle down. Still, his fingers twitched and his thick brows drew tight. “She’s existed since the beginning of time, and the years have eroded her mind. She’s not interested in us. In the Gelfling. She won’t help and I’m not about to waste my time on her.”

That sounds like there’s history there that I’d love to know.

And sounds like if she’s not as grumpy as in the movies she’s at least as difficult.

Did Rian go to her for help after fleeing the castle to no gain? Or did he have a different reason for visiting?

Aughra wasn’t senile in the movie so I don’t think she’d be senile here so what’s her deeeeeal?

Anyway, Rian argues that showing the All-Maudra the vial of Mira goo is the best plan. And Naia argues against putting all their hope on one plan. So Rian says cool I’ll go alone like I wanted to. And Naia says hey buddy this is a team effort.

And Kylan finally points out that they should split up because they’re both basically saying that but arguing about it.

They should split their efforts and making it harder for the Skeksis to catch them.

“We need to work together, apart.”

Oh, I love that turn of phrase.

Kylan shrugged, in case they didn’t like the idea. They were both leaders, and he was a follower, but they weren’t looking at the big picture. To his surprise, though, the suggestion brought a calm to the room. Naia nodded at Kylan, a flash of respect in her eyes.

This is funny for a kind of meta reason. Rian and Naia are both protagonist but Kylan was a supporting character last book but protagonist of this one and he needs to speak up and protag.

Also, Rian and Naia are a bit in the way of being stubborn.

Rian agrees, insofar as he doesn’t think it will matter because his own plan is going to 100% succeed and it gets them out of his (blue-streaked) hair. He even offers to take them partway to High Hill.

Kylan then decides that they should go immediately.

Though he wasn’t eager to forsake the warmth of the stone hut for the cold wilderness of the wood, he felt it was the right thing to do. He had wanted to rest, but it seemed rest was a luxury for which they would find less and less opportunity. Knowing that Maudra Fara thought they were endangering all the Gelfling of Stone-in-the-Wood -- and that they were under orders to leave -- robbed the warm hut of much of its comfort.

=(

That’s a bummer ending to an awkward dinner party.

[psychedaleka]

god does not play dice with the universe (but he does play pranks) (vii)

read on ao3!

Hallmark movie Melkor/Mairon/Celebrimbor.

---

for @tolkiencrackweek

---

Starring:

Mairon Artáno, overworked engineer at Angband Enterprises, originally from the small town of Valinor. Engaged to his boss, Melkor Bauglir.

Melkor Bauglir, CEO of Angband, estranged from his family.

Aulë Artáno, father of Mairon, Manwë Sulimo’s best friend.

Manwë Súlimo, mayor of Valinor, father of Eonwë, Melkor’s fraternal twin.

Eönwë Súlimo, Mairon’s ex boyfriend.

Celebrimbor Finwion, grandson of the deceased genius Feanor, civil engineer to be fixated on restoring Valinor as a lively small town.

So: Mairon is engaged to Melkor, and very much in love with him despite the significant age gap and fact that Melkor’s his boss.

A few days before Christmas, his estranged father Aulë calls him in a panic: Mairon’s teen brother Curumo has gone missing.

Mairon’s never gotten along with his father, but he remembers the younger brother who’s always looked at him with hero worship in his eyes.

So Mairon packs his bags, kisses Melkor goodbye, and returns home to Valinor.

His homecoming isn’t quite as pleasant as he’d hoped: he gets into an argument with Aulë almost immediately after he gets off the train—it’s your responsibility to look after your own son—and Mairon storms off into the night.

He hasn’t been home for years, and it’s changed more than he thought: Valinor had been a vibrant town then, fuelled by traffic from the highway. It had been bustling with activity, people walking through the streets, buildings lit up with signs and goods, a festival or special event seemingly happening every week.

But ever since the new highway was built, fewer and fewer people have been coming—and so many have been moving away. Lúthien’s son, for one, and his fashion company, and all his family and their employees—now gone. Shops and buildings are abandoned, storefronts left decrepit with nothing more than shelves of dust, flickering, poorly maintained lights. New roads were built, then abandoned to potholes and weeds, and old roads went out of use.

Valinor’s not a big place—it never has been—but with the new town layered over that in Mairon’s memories like a palimpsest, is it any surprise he gets lost?

A blizzard starts, and Mairon, still wearing his business formal, is ill prepared—he’d left all his luggage with Aulë, phone included.

He has no choice but to knock on the first door he sees: the house of one Celebrimbor Finwion, civil engineer.

Mairon’s not familiar with the Finwions—they lived a little north, in the community known as Formenos back when there were enough people that Valinor had to be divided into multiple neighbourhoods. He knows Feanor was a genius who had children and died early, and that his son Curufin had followed in his footsteps (except for the dying part).

Fëanor—Aulë’s contemporary—had a grandson a few years younger than Mairon.

Celebrimbor is in his house, still working despite the late hour—much to Mairon’s surprise and approval. Celebrimbor invites Mairon in—he doesn’t have a phone, since it distracts him from what he’s working on—and they begin to talk.

Mairon is, surprisingly, drawn to the young and ambitious engineer, who wants nothing more than to see Valinor as the lively town of his childhood, back when there was still life and light. Mairon, still in shock over how much has changed in the last decade, vows to help him.

They spend the night in pleasant conversation, and the next day comes but the blizzard doesn’t stop. They talk for the entire day, too, and Mairon’s shocked at how much he has to say to the young engineer. Mairon’s not much of a conversationalist—even a few hours of conversation usually exhausts him—but it’s been much longer and he’s still excited to continue.

The next day, they dig themselves out of the metres of snow, and Mairon returns to Aulë’s house. Yavanna and Aulë are worried sick for him, and they have yet another argument.

Mairon demands how they could claim to care and worry about him when they never seemed to do so during his childhood, leaving him to face the bullies at school and the solitude of years alone.

Aulë, incensed, retorts that he was only trying to save the town, working nearly round the clock in order to bring more business and new people—for Mairon, he might add, to have a future. How could you be so ungrateful, Aulë rages, and Mairon opens his mouth to speak but—

“Stop it!” yells sixteen year old Curumo, standing at the front door. “Why do you have to keep arguing like this? Aren’t we family?”

Curumo, it turns out, had wished every Christmas for his big brother to return home, and now that he’s old enough to not believe in Christmas miracles, decided to take matters into his own hands by running away to a friend of his, Olorin’s house.

Aulë and Yavanna vacate the living room, and Mairon and Curumo have a difficult conversation. Their childhoods were different ones, and they’re different people too, and Curumo’s hero, standing right in front of him, doesn’t exactly live up to his expectations.

Curumo cries. Mairon remains impassive.

The doorbell rings.

It’s Manwë, Aulë’s best friend, and his family—his wife Varda, and their two children Eönwë and Ilmarë. They’re here for lunch, as is traditional, and it’s a tense meal. Manwe doesn’t know what happened, but he and his son try their best to diffuse the tension—they fail.

Mairon volunteers to wash the dishes so he doesn’t have to speak to anyone except—Eönwe offers the same.

They’re in close proximity, and maybe Eönwë’s still not over their break up so long ago, but Mairon feels nothing. Their conversation is stilted, which only makes him long for Melkor—or Celebrimbor, surprisingly.

Problem solved—Curumo found—Mairon prepares to leave. Mairon offers to drive him to the train station, and he accepts.

There, he runs into Celebrimbor, who, disappointed, asks him if he’s leaving.

Yes, Mairon says.

Oh, Celebrimbor says. I thought—well. I know we’ve only known each other for such a short time, but you made me feel as I never have, as though I could tackle whatever problem the world gave me. And I thought you would stay, to help me with Valinor.

A train pulls up. Mairon should leave.

You make me feel the same way, Mairon says. I wish I could help you, but I—I can’t stay here, not with my family like this. There’s too many bad memories here.

We could… make new ones? Celebrimbor suggests.

A pause.

I love you, Celebrimbor blurts.

Silence.

Someone hugs Mairon from behind.

Guess who, says Melkor.

Mairon turns his head, and Melkor kisses him.

It’s your favourite fiance, Melkor says.

You’re my only fiance.

Celebrimbor leaves without another word, and Mairon can’t explain the deep sense of loss in his chest.

Come on, Melkor says, pushing Mairon towards the parking lot. I wanna see how much this town has changed.

Mairon barely has time to process that before—

Melkor? Manwë looks pale, as though he’s seen a ghost. What are you doing here?

As it turns out, they’re fraternal twins—which would explain why Mairon’s never made the connection. Melkor left very early, after graduating high school, desperate to get away from an overbearing father.

Mairon wonders how he’s going to explain this to Eönwë: oh, I’m dating your long lost uncle.

The tension skyrockets.

Manwe and Melkor have a shouting match. Aulë and Melkor have a tense conversation. Aulë tries to lecture Mairon on his romantic choices. Explaining to Eönwë is as awkward as he thought.

Celebrimbor is nowhere to be found.

Mairon, hesitantly, mentions Celebrimbor to Melkor.

Huh, he says, I had a crush on Fëanor when we were in school. If you—we—were to date him, I’d feel like I was robbing the cradle.

Christmas Eve is spent in awkward tension.

Christmas Day comes. Outside, everything is covered in snow. Inside, everyone is in surprisingly good spirits.

There’s a bit of Christmas magic in the air, after all.

Mairon talks to his family, and no one gets mad. There’s too many years and burnt bridges and things done—or not done—for them to make up, just like that, but it’s a start.

Manwë and Melkor talk. They’re older now, no longer teenagers, and with the years in between—and Eru dead—they can talk about it, now, their shared childhood, everything that was and no longer is.

All that’s missing is Celebrimbor.

A knock at the door.

I came to say, Celebrimbor says—

Whatever you have to say, no need, Mairon says. I care for you. And I’m hardly strictly monogamous, after all.

Celebrimbor is hesitant, but willing to try to make things work. They, none of them, know what’s going to happen, but it’s worth a shot.

You wouldn’t happen to know where Fëanor hid his jewels, would you? Melkor asks.

Celebrimbor doesn’t. But Maedhros does. And Melkor remembers the caves where they came from, filled with rock structures and glittering stone, like a glistening spray of stars against dark sky, enough to take anyone’s breath away.

This is it, Celebrimbor says. This is how we save Valinor.

And so, maybe they do get their happy ending. It’s not an easy path, no, filled with arguments and negotiations and tears, but it’s better than another world they don’t know, one where Feanor’s jewels nearly destroy Valinor instead of save it.

But in this universe, where Christmas has some power after all, there can be more laughter than tears, and the only rings Mairon creates are wedding rings—three of them.

[mopeytropey]

What if I told you that I received so many lovely messages about fond apu memories and autumnal weather ... that I felt inspired to write some bonus content about our two, favorite beer nerds?

Well, you’re in luck. Because I did.

“Hey, babe!”

Clarke’s voice greets her from out of sight as Lexa toes off her running shoes without bothering to untie them. She deposits them neatly, beside a pair of Clarke’s shoes, against the wall of the entryway as the front door clicks shut. Frank, their recently adopted rescue, comes skittering across the tiled flooring in a bundle of excitement, panting and pushing his cold, black nose into Lexa’s calf muscle. Squatting to her haunches with a grin, she scratches the ringlets of white fur behind his lopsided ears.

When she rounds the open doorway into the kitchen, Clarke is stood at the island chopping fresh herbs. The air is fragrant and the kitchen is warm, awash in bright, morning sunlight that reflects off the harbor. Music plays softly and Clarke is radiant. Lexa smiles.

“Hey.”

“How was the run?” Clarke asks without looking up from the cutting board.

Lexa heads for the fridge to remove a canteen of water. “It was good. The temperature along the water is perfect today.”

“I miss summer,” Clarke sighs and nearly pouts.

“You love the fall.” Lexa takes small, measured sips then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s your most preferred season. You haven’t stopped talking about the foliage along High Street for weeks.”

“Still, I miss summer. The boat. The beach.”

“Clarke, it was practically summer weather last weekend. We were on the boat for hours on Saturday.”

Clarke’s pout intensifies. “Bikinis.”

This produces an actual laugh, and Lexa shakes her head. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll parade around in swimsuits in the dead of winter. You keep it warm enough in here.”

Clarke’s face breaks into a bright smile as she looks up from her chopping. “Promise?”

Lexa smiles as she takes a longer sip of ice-cold water from her canteen. Clarke is dressed for the brunch they’ll be hosting shortly. Casual in her striped sleeveless top and fitted jeans, but nicer than her typical Sunday morning wardrobe of pajama shorts and baggy tee shirts. Nice enough for Lexa to take notice.

“It smells good in here,” she says, moving closer to where Clarke is stood chopping. A hand finds its way beneath the loose hem of Clarke shirt as Lexa’s mouth softly touches Clarke’s bare shoulder. “And, you look nice.”

“Oh my god—you’re so sweaty.” Clarke squirms from Lexa’s touch with a laugh, all the more incentive to move in closer, bodily pinning her against the edge of the island. “Lexa!”

Laughing, she finally steps away as Clarke turns from the counter with an expression that some might mistake for exasperation. Three years on, Lexa knows better. Still smiling, she takes another pull off the water bottle before using the hem of her shirt to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Good, you stink,” Clarke laughs, poking a finger against Lexa’s bared abdomen just before her damp running shirt drops back into place. “And, your shirt is soaked. I love you, but I’m not changing my outfit just because all that adrenaline has made you handsy.”

Lexa heads for the stairs with a laugh. “Drenched in sweat from a long run used to do it for you, you know.”

She pulls her shirt over her head as she climbs, stopping at the landing to turn towards Clarke who has trailed behind her and paused at the base of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, I’m definitely still appreciating the view …  from afar.”

Lexa’s aim is impeccable. The damp shirt hits Clarke square in the face as she squeals in disgust, and Frank barks while dancing at her feet. Lexa laughs all the way to the shower.

:::

“Better?”

Clarke looks up from the big block cutting board with a smile as Lexa shuffles into the kitchen for a second time. She is now slicing strawberries and mangoes, and Lexa does a slow spin as if to show off her clean clothes and freshly blow-dried curls.

Clarke leans forward, wordlessly requesting a quick kiss, and then hums against Lexa’s mouth when she closes the distance. “Well, you definitely smell better,” she says as they separate.

“What can I do?” Lexa surveys Clarke’s array of prep stations along the island countertop—freshly diced fruit, ramekins of chopped herbs, and blocks of cheese, waiting to be grated. Aromas of ground coffee brewing and warm pastries baking have begun to fill the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

She is still mostly relegated to making fried eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches for them to eat, but over the years Lexa has found her place in the kitchen. Clarke is as efficient as she is talented as a home chef, but she always appreciates Lexa’s company as she cooks. She often works alongside Clarke as an adequate sous chef.

“Grate that cheese for me, and I’ll do dirty things to you later.”

Lexa responds to Clarke’s titillating grin with an arched brow and smirk of her own. “Go on.”

“Honestly, after we survive this brunch, I fully plan to do dirty things with you either way.” Clarke widens her grin and bats her eyelashes. “But, the grating would still be very much appreciated.”

Lexa returns her smile while reaching for a wedge of cheese. “Okay, how much of these do you need?”

“I would do half a block of the gruyere and fontina, go heavy on the sharp cheddar.”

Lexa begins her task, dropping a few shreds of cheese to the floor where Frank sits expectantly, tail wagging against the wood floors like a miniature dry mop.

“I saw that.”

Lexa smiles over at Clarke, whose eyes remain on her knife as it deftly slices a strawberry. “Saw what?”

Moments of comforting silence pass, and then Clarke releases a long-suffering sigh. “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“What’s got you feeling so anxious?”

“I’m not anxious just … anticipatory.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting anxious,” Lexa counters. And then, her voice softens to gentle concern. “We’ve hosted brunch a hundred times, Clarke.”

“Okay, but you know this brunch, in particular, is going to be different. You don’t feel at all anxious?”

Poised to respond, Lexa sets down the cheese grater and opens her mouth just as Clarke continues to ramble on with her train of thought.

“Of course you don’t feel anxious—you’re the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met. How many times in your life have you been nervous about anything? Twice?”

Smiling warmly, Lexa shrugs. “At least three times.” Her eyes slide to the bowl of fruit that she knows Clarke has been marinating in a light but sugary glaze of orange liqueur. “How much of that fruit do you think we’d have to eat to feel a little drunk? Or, I could slip some amaretto into your coffee.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Clarke laughs. “You know that if Abby shows up to a social event and can tell that I’ve been drinking before any guests have arrived, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lexa moves in closer, and this time, feels Clarke sink against her as arms coil around her waist. She kisses Clarke’s hairline, the skin of her shoulder. Tender endearments that she has expressed hundreds of times.  She inhales as Clarke exhales, a synthesis of their familiar proximity.

This feels different, Lexa thinks.

There is a subtle distinction that buzzes through her, warming her skin and causing her stomach to flutter. An embrace that could be almost perfunctory at this stage, is somehow much more. She wonders briefly if Clarke feels it too.

“I love you.”

“That helps,” Clarke mumbles, having nestled into the crook of Lexa’s neck and shoulder.

Lexa takes a quick breath, settling the nerves that she conceals too well. “And, Frank loves you too.��

She glances down to the floor, Clarke’s gaze quickly following, to see their fluffy companion bumping against their shins, not wanting to be left out of the affection.

“Oh, I love you too, Frank!” Clarke squats, cooing as she accepts sloppy kisses and scoops the small, eager pup into her arms, her anxieties momentarily forgotten.

:::

“Which one of you is pregnant?”

“Raven …”

Clarke is always scolding, exasperated, appalled, or any combination of all three, and Lexa doesn’t know why she still bothers. In all the years that she’s known her, Raven has never once been cowed to socially appropriate conversations no matter the reprimand.

“Don’t get mad at me—you’re the one who’s acting weird.” Raven sits across from them with a calculating stare, flanked by Lincoln and Anya and wielding her fork like a weapon. The tines point accusingly at she and Clarke as Raven says, “Something is up.”

Lexa’s gaze flicks to Anya for any hint of culpability. To no surprise, her face remains placid and untelling.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not pregnant!”

“Esquire?”

“No one is pregnant,” Clarke reiterates.

The oblong dining table is overflowing with food and drinks. Clarke’s mother, who sits beside Lexa, makes an appreciative sound as she takes a bite of quiche.

“This is wonderful, Clarke.”

Clarke offers a grateful smile for Abby’s efforts to redirect the conversation, but the end result is predictably futile. Raven’s lines of questioning are often like a speeding, unmanned freight train. Virtually unstoppable.

“The food really is excellent,” Lincoln echoes with his soft smile.

“Quiet, you,” Raven snaps playfully. “Come on, Griffin. Spill.”

Beneath the table, Lexa finds Clarke’s fingers.

“We wanted you all here to tell you that—“ Clarke exhales, squeezing Lexa’s fingers. “Lexa and I got married.”

The house falls quiet for three, tense seconds, and then Octavia speaks, her voice taking on a sharp tone of mistrust.

“You mean you’re getting married.”

“We were married last week,” Lexa corrects with an easy smile.

Octavia blinks slowly, her gaze calculating between the two of them. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Clarke answers, the waver in her voice beginning to settle now that they’ve aired this secret to their closest friends. “In New York.”

Early autumn in her city. Lingering summer warmth but with a touch of color on all the trees in the parks. The promise of changing seasons ahead. Clarke stood in the courthouse in jeans and one of Lexa’s favorite tee shirts, wearing the brightest smile Lexa has ever seen. It was nothing she had ever planned for herself and somehow everything she had ever wanted in a ceremonial exchange of vows. That it was Clarke sat beside her, signing her name just below Lexa’s, no doubt made all the difference.

“You run away to New York,” Raven is saying, “exchange some secret nuptials, slink back into town as if nothing has changed—“

“Okay, you’re being a little dramatic. The plan wasn’t really that nefarious,” Clarke says.

“—and then wait an entire week to tell us?”

Lexa tries very hard not to be entertained by Raven’s exasperation, but she finds herself fighting a smile as Clarke’s best friend struggles to work out the new information.

“You were on that extended project at work,” Clarke reminds her.

“I was in Rhode Island, not orbiting in space.”

“To be fair,” Octavia chimes in, “you never check your phone when you’re locked into a project.”

“You could have texted me,” Raven argues.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I got married over text!”

Lexa watches the pure shock and mild affront ebb from Raven’s features. “Oh my god, you’re married.”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles, squeezing again to Lexa’s fingers.

“Hang on, why are you not more shocked by this?” Raven has turned her attention to Abby, who sits at Lexa’s right-hand side.

“Oh,” Clarke clears her throat after finishing a sip of her mimosa. “My mom was there.”

“Clarke asked for my discretion,” Abby responds calmly. “Of course I deferred to hers and Lexa’s wishes.”

“I can’t believe,” Raven says to Abby in dismay, shaking her head like an unforgiving betrayal, “after all these years, you’re still playing favorites with Clarke by keeping secrets from your other children.”

At this, Abby laughs and the atmosphere around the table decompresses. Lincoln extends his glass across the table towards Lexa.

“Cheers, buddy. Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.” Lexa smiles, clinking their glasses together. Clarke’s hand is still in hers, and Lexa’s palm suddenly perspires.

“Yeah, took you two long enough.” Octavia’s grin is smaller, more resigned, but she too extends her glass to join Lexa’s and Lincoln’s.

“Can you estimate just how long you plan to sulk about this?” Clarke is saying to Raven as everyone else tucks into their food.

Raven clicks her tongue, though she is smiling as she says, “Ten, fifteen years tops.”

Anya has had her arm draped carelessly along the back of Raven’s chair since they sat down, and now briefly runs her fingers across Raven’s shoulder cap. “Relax, I got some pretty nice photos of the courthouse I can show you.”

Raven nearly flinches in surprise. “You were—ugh, of course you were there.” She huffs in defeat, rolling her eyes and reaching for her half-empty glass of champagne and orange juice (heavy on the champagne). “Okay, somebody needs to get me a refill because I need all the details and this mimosa is going to go down quickly.”

“It was simple and more-or-less unplanned,” Clarke explains with an easy sigh. “We drove down last weekend to visit Gus. My mom was already there on business, and … it just felt right.”

Lexa picks up the thread where Clarke leaves off. “We chose the courthouse where Gus signed the papers to make my adoption official.” She looks at Clarke, heart flapping wildly. “It was nice.”

Something softens in Raven’s features at Lexa’s words, and she exhales as Anya is refilling her glass. “Okay, that is some cute shit.”

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” Clarke frets.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. You surprised the ever-loving hell out of me, but—I mean, jesus, you two have been grossing us out as a married couple for years.”

Clarke blows a kiss at her from across the table. “Next time I get married on a whim, I’ll text you.”

The humor drops from Raven’s face as she places a hand flat against the table. “I swear on my love of science, Clarke, if you ever soil this marriage with Esquire, I will seriously consider blocking your number indefinitely.”

Lexa grins, oddly comforted by Raven’s threatening tone. “Thanks, Reyes.”

“I’m obviously kidding!” Clarke leans over to kiss the line of Lexa’s jaw as if to underscore her joke.

“Okay, so let’s hear it. Tell me more,” Raven demands.

Lexa smiles, remembering the day. “Gus took us out for ramen afterwards.”

“Then I took them out for shots,” Anya says.

“It really was quite lovely,” Abby chimes in, understandably eager to finally have the freedom to speak of their nuptials. “The courthouse, I mean. And dinner. I’d rather not know about all the drinking that followed.”

“Aw come on, Mama Griffin. You know you’ve got some good kids,” Octavia says.

Abby agrees without hesitation. “The very best.”

Lexa feels her chest bloom with warmth to be included in the sentiment, and luckier still to have acquired such a profoundly superior family.

:::

Clarke, her mother, and their other guests have moved into the sitting room while Lexa tidies the kitchen. Still within earshot, she listens for the bright notes of Clarke’s laughter and curbs her own smile at the sound. Anya hands her items off the dining table while Lexa wraps the leftovers and loads the dishwasher. The routine between them is practiced and familiar, running through motions they have done together since childhood.  

“Keeping this little secret of yours is going to have me in the dog house. No offense, Frank.” Anya looks to the dog that has fallen asleep near their feet where she and Lexa are leaned against the island.

The kitchen now more-or-less spotless, Lexa pushes off the countertop and reaches into the fridge for two beers, popping their lids before offering one to her sister.

“My condolences,” she answers with a grin. “When do you go back?”

“Few days.”

Lexa sips her beer. “Plenty of time to reconcile then. Anyway, she doesn’t seem upset anymore.”

“At you and Clarke, no. At me?” Anya runs a hand through her hair with a long-suffering exhale that brings a smile to Lexa’s face.

She is easily amused by seeing Anya—so stoic, so stable, so disaffected by almost everything else in her life—navigate the delicate nuances of a sustained relationship. Particularly with Raven Reyes.

“What?” Anya scowls as she notices Lexa’s amusement.

Lexa shrugs, finishing another sip of beer. “Nothing. You’re just very domesticated these days.”

“Says the married one.”

Lexa’s stomach jumps as she thinks of Clarke sitting in the next room. “It’s not so bad. You should try it.”

“It’s been seven days, kid. Talk to me in seven years.”

“I will.”

Anya’s narrowed gaze moves from Lexa’s smug confidence to the floor. “Your dog is sleeping beside a Yankees emblem.”

Without turning around, Lexa knows she will find Frank curled around the offensive dog toy—a plush baseball with navy stitching, emblazoned with the infamous logo—that arrived to their house the day after the cursed New York baseball team made the playoffs. Her shoulders tense even as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s a situation that is being handled.”

“It looks like he’s fairly attached to it,” Anya prods.

“The dog’s sight is impaired, Anya. He cannot be held accountable for poor judgement.”

Frank, having lost an eye to irreparable damage before he was rescued, had immediately stolen Lexa’s heart. One look at him at the adoption event earlier that summer, and she knew he belonged with her and Clarke. They have been fairly inseparable ever since.

Anya very nearly smiles. “If you say so.”

“You’re involved in a serious, long-distance relationship with a devout supporter of the Yankees—is this really the fight you want to be having right now?”

A barely audible laugh—just loud enough for Lexa to hear it—and Anya concedes with a bowed head. “Clarke won’t let you throw it away, huh?”

Lexa takes another sip of beer then exhales in frustration, her eyes finally dragging over to Frank and that damn baseball. “No.”

:::

Brunch turns into beers and board games and more coffee, Abby excusing herself after a few hours to rest before her flight the following morning. She leaves them all with lingering hugs, motherly reminders to stay safe, and reiterated congratulations to Clarke and Lexa. By late afternoon, after another round of coffee for their guests, the house is finally empty and quiet, and Clarke collapses onto the sofa with a soft grunt of exhaustion.

Lexa sits at the opposite end, near her feet, and pulls Clarke’s legs into her lap. She begins to mindlessly rub her thumbs into Clarke’s calves as her head tips back and her eyes fall closed. They are peaceful for several minutes before Clarke’s voice scratches out softly.

“That went well.”

Lexa hums. “Raven’s outburst notwithstanding?”

“She was being really dramatic.”

“Have you met Raven before today?”

Clarke laughs, poking her foot into Lexa’s stomach. “Hush.”

At the sound of her laughter, Lexa’s head rolls to the side. She opens her eyes to find Clarke already looking at her with drowsy eyes. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

Clarke hums as Lexa’s hands continue to work against the tense muscles of her legs and feet.

“Is this impending nap just a precursor to you ravaging me later?”

“Mmm. Yes.” As Clarke smiles, her eyes fall closed again. “Need to restore energy.”

“Okay, I’m going to go read for a bit.”

Clarke pouts as Lexa shifts from under her legs and stands beside the couch to stretch her limbs.

“No. Stay and cuddle.”

Lexa bends to kiss Clarke’s protruding lip. “I’ll cuddle you later when we have less clothes on.”

“I feel objectified.” Still with her eyes closed, Clarke finds the crook of Lexa’s elbow, keeping her close with a loose grip.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa smiles, and kisses her again.

:::

It’s just under an hour later, the sky streaking in hues of burnt orange and fading pink, when Lexa glances up from her book to see Clarke shuffling towards her. She is still wrapped in a blanket that she must have grabbed from the sofa during her nap. Lexa smiles at her sleepy frown and places her book on the wide arm of the deck chair just before Clarke crawls onto her lap.

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

“Much warmer now,” Lexa says, hugging Clarke closer as they shift against the wooden chair to find an optimal snuggling position. “How was the nap?”

“Mmm,” Clarke hums. “Productive.”

Her voice is that fraction of an octave lower, that sensational rasp that sends a tingling chill across Lexa’s shoulders.

“Productive?”

“Yeah, I had a nice dream about my wife.”

Lexa can’t help the small giggle that erupts as the tips of her ears go red. It will take some getting used to—having a wife, being someone’s wife—referring to Clarke as such and hearing the same in return. Thinking of herself in this way still feels a bit like walking around in shoes that are too big for her feet. A week on, and being Clarke’s wife has not yet lost its clumsy weight.

A nervous energy, not unlike the jittery uncertainties that new relationships breed, has been Lexa’s stasis for a solid week. She likens this new adjustment to the flurry of unrestrained feelings she experienced during those early weeks with Clarke. When she first reached for Lexa’s hand in public without warning, or the effort it took to calm her anxious breathing when they undressed each other for the first time. Lexa’s nerves are similarly frayed now, replaying this new epithet in her mind over and over.

My wife. 

She focuses instead on Clarke’s potentially filthy dream and clears her throat. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

In response, Clarke laughs against her neck and kisses just below her ear. “I bet you would.”

The next kiss, pressed against Lexa’s mouth, is even more languid, growing a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. “So, about that dream.”

“Yeah—can we go inside now?” Clarke laughs against her lips, stealing another kiss as Lexa’s hands slip beneath the wooly throw blanket to find an excessive amount of bare skin. “I’m officially cold.”

“Clarke, you’re not wearing any pants.”

“You know I can’t fall asleep in jeans, babe.”

As she stands with a smile, nearly tipping Clarke out of her lap if not for a sure grip, Lexa thinks of all the other things she knows about the woman clinging to her shoulders.

Not just how she takes her coffee or her favorite movie, but the brand of dish soap she prefers and the way her voice shatters just before she cries. The slow rumble of her snores and the color of her eyes when they darken in a flash of anger.

That she is selfless to a fault, often putting her own wellness at risk for the sake of others. She knows the songs that Clarke refuses to listen to because they are such visceral reminders of Jake. Lexa knows when she needs space and the times she will want comfort, even if she is too scared to ask.

These and so many more—the myriad quirks that arise out of sustained intimacy.

Once indoors, Lexa deposits Clarke onto the bed before falling gracelessly beside her in a tangle of limbs.

“So, the big secret’s out. Everyone that matters knows that we’re married.” Lexa swallows. “How do you feel?”

Clarke rolls over with a sigh, her eyes scanning the ceiling above them. “Better. A lot better, actually.”

“Yeah? No turning back now. You’re officially stuck with me.”

Even as she jokes, her heart hammers a steady beat. The light teasing easily drags Clarke’s gaze back to her, and Lexa tempers her smile enough to accept a lingering press of Clarke’s mouth.

She answers as they slowly break apart, her hands latched at the back of Lexa’s neck. “I think we both know I was stuck with you a long time ago.”

:::

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA (for eventual smut)

Summary:  After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 3

“You’re cheating.”

Kristoff was staring at nothing, lost in a memory.

“Kristoff, I’m your friend.”

He would never forget those words.

“Kristoff!” he heard, accompanied by a snap. Suddenly he was back in the present.

“Uh, what?”

“Ryder accused me of cheating, back me up here, bud!” Sven said. “I would never cheat against my three favorite people in the entire world.”

“You absolutely would,” Kristoff responded without missing a beat.

“See?” Ryder said to Sven. “Seems like I’m Kristoff’s better friend.”

“Impossible, I refuse to believe it,” Sven said in an exaggerated French accent.

“Actually,” Anna interjected, “I saw you taking money out of the bank.”

“Wha-a-a-at? No-o-o-o!” Sven denied emphatically.

“Sven, come on,” Ryder said. “How is it that you have just as much money as when we started but you have six properties?”

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Sven conceded. He began to return the money he stole, mumbling curses under his breath.

“Okay, Anna, your turn,” Ryder said.

This was surreal to Anna. She had only known these guys for three days, but she was eight rounds deep in a game of Monopoly with them tonight. She had great first impressions with Sven and Ryder, and a half-decent second impression with Kristoff who, to her, was the easiest of the three of them to look at. With every passing moment, she was even more sure she made the right decision by moving in with them.

“Okay, I’ll remember to roll both dice this time,” Anna said with unwavering confidence. “Woo-hoo, ten!” she yelled. She picked up the little chrome terrier and tapped it on every space in front of it. “One, two, three, four…”

Kristoff rubbed his face. “Anna, I told you, there are ten spaces on every side, you don’t have to-“ He was abruptly cut off by Sven slapping his knee.

“Let her!” Sven hissed, enunciating each word separately. Kristoff raised his hands.

“Alright, if you all are okay with not sleeping tonight…”

“Look, I got there eventually, right?” Anna said as she placed her token on the B & O Railroad. “Does anyone have this?”

“Nope,” Ryder said. “It’s all yours.”

“Nice!” She looked closely at the space on the board. “It’s 200 dollars, right?”

“All railroads are 200 dollars,” Kristoff complained.

“Okay, well, I didn’t know.” She gathered up the money and handed it to Sven. “B & O Railroad, ple-e-ease.”

“My pleasure,” Sven responded. “By the way, since you own two railroads now, the rent for both is 50 dollars.”

“She knows,” Kristoff said.

“Actually,” Anna interjected, “I didn’t know. Thank you, Sven.”

Sven responded with a little flourish.

“But we told you at the beginning of the game,” Kristoff countered

“Oh, you did?” Anna said sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Anna, you have to pay attention if we’re gonna play games with you.”

“Okay, but I’ve never played this before,” Anna reasoned.

“How have you never played Monopoly?”

“Come on, Kristoff,” Ryder said, “can’t you be patient?”

“Why is everyone mad at me now?” Kristoff asked.

Sven butted in to try to ease the tension. “No one’s mad at you, Kris.”

Kristoff turned to Sven. “You hit me, like, thirty seconds ago!”

“Because you were being a baby!”

“I told you guys we should’ve played Sorry,” Ryder said, crossing his arms and pouting his lips, clearly upset that “loft game night,” as Sven called it, was turning into an argument.

“Look, Monopoly is a high stakes game, I understand why some of us-” Sven began, turning his gaze to Kristoff. “-are stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” Kristoff grumbled under his breath.

Anna glanced at him and took in his hunched over posture and crossed arms, wondering if he was just playing it up for laughs or if he was really bothered by this whole thing.

“Let’s just start over,” Sven suggested.

Anna, Ryder, and Kristoff simultaneously let out noises of protest.

“I meant,” Sven said, raising a hand to silence his roommates. “Let’s just calm down and refresh, not start the whole game over. Geez.” Sven let out a small huff of frustration. “Now, where were we?”

“I think I’m buying the B & O Railroad,” Anna said.

Sven replied with an easy smile. “200 smackers, please.”

The rest of the game went smoothly. Kristoff still commented on how Anna counted every space for every turn, and she still fumbled with her bank money, but throughout the game, they laughed and poked fun at each other all the same. Still, Anna couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering Kristoff. Sven turned a sympathetic gaze to him every so often, only fueling her suspicion that something was up with him. Anna couldn’t help but feel like somehow it was her fault.

“Alright, I’m done,” Sven said, placing his money down on the board. They had to have been playing for at least an hour, and they were no closer to the end than they had been at the start.

“Me too,” Ryder echoed.

“Thank god,” Kristoff sighed dramatically, throwing his money down to mingle with Sven and Ryder’s on the middle of the board. “I was getting my ass handed to me.”

“Well, I guess that means Anna wins,” Sven said, turning to her.

“Wait, what?” Anna responded incredulously.

“You’re the only one who didn’t just throw your money down, so by all accounts, you’re our winner.”

Anna knew it was a shallow victory, but she still felt exhilarated not only to have won but also to have been included in their game night at all.

“Congrats, Anna!” Ryder said, earnestly. “I gotta turn in though. I have an early day tomorrow.” Ryder stood up and brushed himself off. “This was fun. Although not as fun as Sorry would have been, just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah, sleep tight, asshole,” Sven snorted, waving his hand at him dismissively.

Ryder put his hands up in mock defeat and headed off to his room.

“I have to turn in too, actually,” Sven started, patting his knees and standing up. He stretched back and let out a satisfied grunt as his back cracked. “Kris, it’s your turn to clean up.”

“Yup, just like it is every game night, huh?”

“Naturally,” Sven countered, turning to walk to his room.

Kristoff rolled his eyes. Suddenly, it was just the two of them. It felt like the room had been pulled into silence.

Kristoff began picking up the pieces, the crinkling of the paper money, and the clinking of the tiny game pieces the only sounds in the room.

Anna began to help, leaning forward and placing the money in stacks and folding up the game board. The silence was killing her.

“Hey, I’m sorry about being bad at the game. I really hadn’t played it before tonight.”

Kristoff cleared his throat. “No, uh, don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’m sorry for being so...” He paused as if to mull over which word to use. “...grumpy.”

“You’re fine. If you’re grumpy enough, it starts to seem normal for you.”

“Oh, uh…” Kristoff didn’t want to be known to Anna as the grumpy one. “...I don’t mean to--I mean, I didn’t mean to-”

“Kristoff, seriously, don’t worry about it. Where do these go?” Anna asked, holding up the stack of property cards.

“In that slot there. I just…”  Kristoff hadn’t tried to make her feel bad. He wasn’t a very patient person to begin with, but the unpleasant memory from the beginning of the evening had seeped into the rest of the night and put him on edge even more so than usual. He just felt like an asshole. He watched her shuffle the four piles of money together and begin to sort them into their colors. Of course, he thought Anna was cute, but it wasn’t until just now--noticing how her fiery red hair fell along the subtle curve of her back and waist, how the freckles on her nose and cheeks highlighted her pale skin and radiant blue eyes, and how her navy blue leggings left virtually nothing to the imagination--that he realized he found her so attractive it was borderline insensible.

“...Yes?” Anna asked.

Kristoff snapped out of his daze. “Oh, right, uh...I just hope you know I’m not grumpy all the time.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not!” Anna offered Kristoff a gentle smile. “Just most of the time.” Her sweet smile turned mischievous.

Kristoff smiled and looked away. He didn’t want to be into a girl, let alone his roommate, so soon after his last relationship, but he was finding it hard to fight his feelings- the easy way she smiled at him, how she went out of her way to be nice to him despite his tendency to act standoffish. He missed being in a relationship, too. He brushed the thoughts aside. Despite his feelings, he wasn’t ready or willing to get into anything again anytime in the near future.

“Listen, you don’t have to be nice to me just because you’re new,” Kristoff said. He felt guilty for how nice she was being to him. He didn't want her to feel like she had to do that.

Anna gave him a sideways look. “...Okay? Can I be nice to you anyway?”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to force it.”

“I’m not.”

“I know, but-”

“Do you think I’m not nice normally?”

“No, that’s not it, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Kristoff paused. “...Nothing. I’m happy you’re nice to me.” He closed the game box and headed toward his room. “‘Night, Anna.”

“Oh, okay. Goodnight, Kristoff.” Anna picked up the box and returned it to its spot on the shelf, all the while gazing puzzledly at Kristoff’s ambling form until he entered his room and shut the door.

She still didn’t get him. Sven and Ryder were pretty easy to like and, from there, easy to become friends with. Kristoff, though, was a whole different story. He seemed to get along with Sven and Ryder just fine; at least, that’s what she gathered from her relatively short time living here. She just couldn’t figure out why he was so cold to her whenever the four of them were together but would warm up to her noticeably whenever it was only the two of them. Did he see her differently than he saw Sven and Ryder just because she’s a girl? Or did he just not know her well and didn’t know how to behave around her? She shook her head. She knew she was overthinking this. She decided she was just going to try to be as friendly as she could to him, regardless of how he treated her.

After all, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with him.

* * *

Kristoff was kicking himself for every moment of game night. First, he got lost in a bad memory, then he made Anna feel bad about taking her time to learn the game, then after the game, he ogled her (and there was no way Anna didn’t notice that), and finally, he panicked and bailed on their conversation. Was it going to be this hard all the time to be around her? To balance his friendship with Sven and Ryder with his attraction to Anna? He decided it would be easier to just not try very hard when he was with her. He’d be nice, but not so nice that it seemed unnatural. It was more important that she felt comfortable rather than liked him specifically.

Even after all that, as he laid in his bed that night, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with her.

[pictureswithboxes]

Chapter 6 of Understanding The Heathers is up.

AO3 Link [x]

There was a phenomenon where if a domestic cat was left on its own long enough, it would revert back to its feral state. Her father had told her that this was referred to as going ‘house feral.’ After seeing and hearing about how often The Heathers’ parents were out of the house, Veronica was sure that The Heathers had gone house feral. That was the only way to explain the horror show that was the game of Monopoly Veronica found herself part of. 

Though, she was less of a player and more like a referee. 

“Heather, get off of Heather!” Veronica exclaimed when Chandler had tackled Mac onto the floor after she had bought ‘Pennsylvania Railroad.’ 

“You know that it’s my strategy to buy all the Railroads!” Chandler growled. 

They paid her no mind as Mac wrapped her legs around Chandler’s waist and reversed their positions handily. “It’s everyone’s strategy to buy the Railroads! You’ve already got two, I couldn’t let you get them all! It’s just good sense!” She pinned Chandler’s hands above her head with one swift motion.

 Veronica averted her eyes, feeling rise to her cheeks. Her mouth went a little dry, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding on a private moment. Especially with how close Mac and Chandler’s faces were, their noses were practically touching and their lips were mere inches apart. 

“She’s right, Heather and you know it. We’re all in it to win.” Duke said, she looked more interested in reorganizing her money than with whatever the hell was going on right next to her. “If you guys fuck up the board, you’re going to have to fix it.”

“Oh my god, fine, Heather!” Chandler rolled her eyes. “Just let me up!”

Mac sat up, not taking her eyes off Chandler. “Just remember, I can do this any time I want.” 

Veronica cleared her throat. “Heather, it’s your turn.” She said, nodding her head toward Duke. 

If Veronica had known that playing a game with The Heathers meant that there would be acts of violence, she would have thought twice about betting against them. So far Chandler had already torn the three property cards in half, Mac was balling up her bills and throwing them at the people she owed money to, and Veronica already had to wrestle a hammer from Duke. She didn’t even want to know what Duke was going to do with the hammer. 

Duke rolled the dice and let out a loud cheer when she saw the result. She’d landed on the Free Parking space. 

“Fuck you entirely!” Chandler shouted, slamming her hands against the coffee table. 

Duke laughed as she collected the bills from the center of the board. “You’re just mad because half of this came from you.”

“That’s exactly why I’m mad!” Chandler snapped. “Just you wait, you’ll land on my hotels and I’ll get all your fucking cash.” 

Veronica looked at the board and had to admit, Chandler was right. Each Heather had their own different strategies, Chandler had elected to buy and develop around one of the corners of the board so it was almost impossible to avoid landing on a property owned by her. Duke aggressively bought up properties as quickly as she could, she didn’t even bother with the Utilities. Mac’s strategy looked like she only wanted to sabotage the other two more than she wanted to win. 

Meanwhile, Veronica was simply trying to survive.

“I’m so scared.” Duke rolled her eyes. 

“It’s my turn.” Veronica announced, rolling the dice. She was at the point where she almost wanted to go bankrupt. It was exhausting to be the banker, babysitter, and to actually play the game. 

She rolled a five and landed on ‘Luxury Tax.’ 

“Tough break.” Mac said as Veronica doled out seventy-five dollars. 

Veronica shrugged and passed the dice to Chandler. “Your turn.”

Chandler didn’t roll immediately, instead choosing to take a few moments to assess her properties.”I want to put a house on Kentucky Avenue.” She said, passing Veronica the appropriate amount of money. 

“Sure thing.” Veronica took the money and handed Chandler one of the tiny, plastic houses that came with the game. 

Chandler rolled a seven and landed on a Chance square. “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” She muttered under her breath after reading her card. 

Veronica was about to ask what the hell that meant when Chandler cut her off. 

“Enjoy the charity.” She rolled her eyes and tossed a fifty dollar bill at Veronica, Mac, and Duke. 

“Gee wiz,” Duke rolled her eyes. “This is life changing.” 

“Shut up, Heather.” Chandler snapped, handing the dice over to Mac. “It’s your turn, Heather.” 

The game continued and this level of hostility never wavered as time wore on. The closest thing to a fight that happened was when Mac took Duke’s plate of pizza and frisbee tossed it across the room when Duke started a housing crisis. Veronica was less horrified by the sound of the plate shattering, and more so by the way The Heathers had disregarded the sound. Going bankrupt was a blessing, if Veronica was being honest. 

Two hours in and they were still going strong. This had to be a world record. 

“Please.” Veronica groaned, she was now laying on the floor and blindly doling out the cash as requested. “Please tell me it’s almost over. I’m so tired, you guys.”

“Fuck off, Veronica.” Duke snapped. There wasn’t a trace of exhaustion in her tone. “I’ve got Heather on the ropes.”

“No you don’t!” Chandler growled back. 

“Please, Heather.” Mac scoffed. “The only reason you made it to this round was because you were in jail for so long. “If you roll a one through five, you’re paying me. And you barely have any liquid assets left as it stands. You’re going to have to start auctioning off your properties.” She let out a little laugh. “Well, more of your properties.”

Veronica didn’t bother to look at the board to see what Mac meant. 

Chandler eventually went bankrupt and the other three had to physically stop her from flipping the board. It was another half hour after that before Duke ran out of money and Mac took home the victory. Veronica wasn’t sure how the hell that had happened, seeing as Mac’s main goal from the beginning was to simply hinder the others’ progress. 

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Veronica murmured as she, Duke, and Chandler cleaned up the game board. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.” She turned to the two of them. “You’ve scarred me for life, I never want to play Monopoly again!”

Mac yawned from her spot on the sofa. The winner never had to clean up the mess, apparently. “Now that I think of it, Monopoly is kind of a trash game.”

“We should play Ticket to Ride, next.” Chandler said as she carefully counted the houses to make sure there weren’t any missing. 

“No way, we should play The Game of Life.” Duke argued. 

Chandler scoffed. “Please, Heather, you always try to sell your kids when you get in a pinch.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Veronica found herself saying. She glanced at the clock and was horrified to see that it was nearing one in the morning. “How the hell did you three manage to stretch a monopoly game for almost four hours?”

“We all really wanted the bragging rights.” Mac replied easily. “Which reminds me, Heather, Heather, is there something you wanted to say to me?”

The other two sighed before chorusing “You are a titan of industry” to Mac in an annoyed tone. 

“Am I a pretty titan of industry?” Mac asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“You’re beautiful.” Duke and Chandler sighed together.

. .

Veronica sat at the lunch table, looking over her study guide for her AP Lit class. She wasn’t worried about the test that day, but it was still important to have a bit of a refresher. The Heathers, who had that class during second period, assured her that it would be a piece of cake, but Veronica would rather be safe than sorry. 

“Honestly, if you even read the back of the book you should be fine.” Chandler said, looking bored out of her mind. “All you have to know is that Edna is trapped in her little gilded cage and wants to bone Robert.”

“The hardest part is trying to spell the names right.” Mac added offhandedly, she was working on her math homework and therefore not paying much attention. “Ms. Fleming said she’d mark us down if we spelled the names wrong.”

“I think that was directed at us, specifically.” Duke said. “She was still a little miffed that Heather called Mademoiselle Reisz an old crone.”

Chandler laughed a little. “In my defense, I thought it was funny at the time. How was I supposed to know that the sewer witch that is Ms. Fleming would go off the handle?”

“She’s more of a gutter hag.” Duke said after a moment of thought. “Her being a witch implies that she has powers.”

“But I’d rather be in a gutter than in a sewer.” Chandler frowned before taking a sip of her Diet Coke. “Let’s go with sewer hag. That way she’s in a sewer with all the rats and shit and piss, but also she can’t cast spells.”

“It’s decided, Ms. Fleming is a sewer hag.” Duke said as she and Chandler high-fived with a smile.

“Of course you guys would have a committee to create insults.” Veronica found herself laughing. 

Chandler and Duke grinned at each other. 

“So, Veronica,” Chandler said, leaning forward and resting her weight on her elbows. “As much as I hate to change the subject, Halloween is fast approaching...”

“And?” Veronica furrowed her brow.

“And,” Duke rolled her eyes.  “We, as in Heather, Heather, and myself,  always do a group costume. Now that you’re part of the group, we figured we’d see if you wanted to... you know, be part of the group.”

Veronica thought for a moment, usually she and Martha gathered up the worst, most D list, scary movies they could find and make a night of it. This year, however, Martha’s grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary was on the second of November and she was to go out of town with her whole family for the long weekend, starting right after school on Halloween. Veronica was planning to just stay home and pass out candy with her parents. 

“Sure thing.” Veronica shrugged. 

“Cool.” Chandler looked at Mac. “It’s Heather’s turn to pick a group costume, by the way.”

“You guys don’t go trick or treating, do you?” Veronica asked. She couldn’t picture the three of them going door to door begging for candy. 

The Heathers looked at each other. 

“Not quite.” Mac replied. “We’re doing that volunteer thing through the school where you take a few kids trick or treating around the neighborhood and then their parents come get them.”

“You should sign up if you want.” Chandler added. “We always need more people and it’s an easy way to get volunteer hours. The kids do whatever you say, it’s basically just going for a walk around the neighborhood. You don’t even really have to look at them.”

“We’re gonna watch our favorite scary movies after, you should come.” Duke said, looking over to Mac. “Do you know what we want to be, Heather?”

“I’m gonna need some time to ponder.” Mac said, closing her math book. “I don’t know any iconic groups of four off the top of my head.”

The first group that came to Veronica’s mind was The Teletubbies. There was no way in hell that she was going to tell The Heathers that, she didn’t want to risk it. 

“We need an answer by Wednesday.” Chandler said, pointing at Mac sternly. “Halloween is fast approaching and we need to look good.”

Mac mock saluted Chandler. “I’ll start brainstorming tonight.” 

“Speaking of making plans.” Veronica figured this would be the best time for a subject change. “My parents want me to have you guys over for dinner.”

The Heathers looked at Veronica like she’d grown a second head. 

“Why?” Mac asked. 

Veronica’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with you guys, is it so weird that my parents would want to get to know the people who are taking up some real estate in my life?”

“I guess not.” Chandler frowned. “Do they think you’ve... you know... gotten in with a bad crowd? Or something?”

“No.” Veronica shook her head. “Well, my mom thinks you’re all weird as hell, but they don’t think you guys are bad seeds.”

“So... They just want to meet us?” Duke asked. 

“Is it seriously so weird that my parents are taking an interest in my life?” Veronica exclaimed. 

“... Yeah, kinda.”

. . 

Veronica was nervous as she helped her mother set the table. The Heathers would be over any minute and while Veronica was sure that her friends knew better than to be inappropriate or rude to her parents, she was terrified that they might start bickering at the dining table. Her parents already thought that The Heathers were weird as hell and they had barely interacted, Veronica was sure that if The Heathers were themselves in front of her parents, she would be banned from seeing those girls ever again. 

“I’m so excited to get to know your friends a little better.” Veronica’s mother said as she put out the napkins. “I already know Martha so well, I feel like getting to know them will help us get to know you more.”

Veronica laughed. “You might want to run and hide if you get to know me too much.” 

Her mother sent her a fond smile. “I certainly hope you’re joking.” 

Just as Veronica was about to speak, there were three sharp knocks on the door. Veronica froze, half expecting to hear her name being screamed from outside. It was jarring to say the least. 

“I’ll get it.” Veronica’s father said as he walked to the door. 

“Is that them?” Veronica’s mother asked. “No one’s screaming.”

“Yeah,” Veronica nodded. “It’s kind of an inside joke between us.” She shrugged. “Heather Chandler does that to all of us.”

“What a card.” Her mother said with a confused look on her face. 

“To say the least.” Veronica nodded, turning toward the door as her father led The Heathers into the dining room. “Hi guys.” 

The Heathers had all elected to wear something more conservative than their usual outfits. It was like they were trying to look business casual. 

“Hi Veronica.” They chorused together. 

“Thank you so much for having us over, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.” Chandler said as they entered the room fully. “Is there anything we can do to help out before dinner?”

Mac and Duke both smiled and nodded, looking at Veronica’s mother expectantly. 

“You’re just in time, actually.” Veronica’s mother smiled. “Dinner is ready and Veronica and I have got the table all set. Why doesn’t everyone sit down and Mr. Sawyer and I will bring dinner out.”

Veronica moved to the dining room table while her parents entered the kitchen. “Take a seat guys.” Veronica said, gesturing to the table. 

Mac and Chandler sat on one side of the table while Duke sat beside Veronica on the other side. They sat ramrod straight, like they were awaiting a job interview or something. Veronica had to admit that it kind of felt good to know that they were taking this as seriously as she was. 

“I know we just told you to tell your mom to make your favorite,” Mac whispered, she looked a little concerned. “But what did she make?”

“Spaghetti with extra oregano.” Veronica replied. 

Mac let out a sigh of relief. “Okay cool.”

Her parents returned and they began to break bread and eat. They made some small talk for a little while, Chandler and Duke led the conversation a little more than Mac did. Veronica was surprised that Chandler hadn’t ordered Duke to shut up at least once since dinner had started. She was expecting it. 

“So, Heather.” Veronica’s father paused. “Uh... Heathers. What do you do outside of school? Are you part of any groups? Any hobbies?”

“Well, I’m the senior class representative to the PTA.” Chandler said, sitting up straighter. “I'm also a member of the NHS. I used to be on the debate team, but it conflicted with student leadership. So I had to drop it in my sophomore year.”

“We’ll it sounds like you keep busy.” Veronica’s mother said with a smile. “And what do the rest of you do?”

“I’m head of the yearbook committee.” Duke said. “It’s a lot of work, I assign most of the stories and me and the advisor are going to edit and put the yearbook together. I’m also in the NHS with Heather. And I do a lot of reading.”

“What kind of books do you like?” Veronica’s father perked up. “I, myself, like spy novels.”

Duke smiled and nodded. “I’m more of a fan of the classics, myself. Moby Dick is an old favorite, but right now I’m reading Of Human Bondage.”

Veronica frowned at that. “I’m sorry, what are you reading?” 

“Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham.” Duke said, turning to Veronica. “It was written in like nineteen-ten or something, and it’s all about this orphan with a clubfoot living in London.” 

“Oh, I think I’ve read that with my bookclub.” Veronica’s mother smiled. “It’s a little wordy, don’t you think?”

“So far, it’s pretty good.” Duke shrugged. “It’s no Moby Dick, though.” She turned to Chandler. “Heather has some opinions about Herman Melville.” 

Veronica watched Chandler fight an eyeroll. 

“And Heather, what about you?” Veronica’s father prompted.

Veronica fought the urge to laugh at her father’s poor attempt at a subject change. He only ever read trash books and beach reads, the classics didn’t hold his interest in the least. 

“Oh,” Mac looked a little like she had been taken by surprise. “I’m head of the cheer team. It’s my job to help the coach put together stunt formations and choreograph routines, I also run the pre-practice drills. I’m also part of NHS.” 

Veronica had almost forgotten just how perfect these girls were on paper. They were every parents’ wet dream, people sent their children to school in the hopes that they would fall into The Heathers’ crowd. And here Veronica was, in their crowd, completely on accident. 

“Wow, you girls certainly keep very busy, don’t you?” Veronica’s mother sounded very impressed, and also a little concerned. “You are making sure to take time for yourselves, right?”

The Heathers looked at Veronica’s mother with confused faces. 

Chandler recovered first. “Of course we do.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s just important to be well rounded, you know?”

“It looks good on a college app.” Duke added. 

“I’m just full of school spirit.” Mac grinned. 

Veronica laughed at that. 

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch. The Heathers were perfectly perfect in every single way. Veronica wasn’t sure what had her so anxious in the first place, if The Heathers knew anything, it was how to put on a show. They’d even offered to clean up after dinner. By the time they’d left, Veronica was sure her parents would be under the same spell as the students of Westerburg High. 

“You liked them, right?” Veronica asked after she’d watched them leave in Duke’s Jeep. 

“Oh, they’re lovely girls.” Veronica’s mother said. “A little stiff, though. Were they nervous?”

“I don’t think they are physically capable of feeling nervous, Mom.”

. .

“I’ve decided what we’re going to be.” Mac said, sitting down on Veronica’s desk once their Econ teacher gave them independent work time. 

“Oh really?” Veronica asked as Duke sat beside her and Chandler perched herself on Duke’s desk. “Was today’s lesson about resources and scarcity inspiring?”

Mac laughed at that. “No, I wasn’t listening to that at all.” She set her text book on her lap and began to fill out her worksheet. “I was too busy thinking about Rose McGowan in Jawbreaker.”

“I don’t understand the logic.” Veronica said. 

“She watched Jawbreaker last night and loves Rose McGowan.” Duke said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“We had a whole conversation about it last night.” Chandler added. “I swear, Heather went on for hours about how she’s in love with Rose McGowan. I was getting kind of jealous, if I’m being honest.”

“Why would you be jealous?” Veronica asked, earning an annoyed glare from Chandler. 

“As I was saying,” Mac cut in. “I’ve decided that we’re going to be the Flawless Four from Jawbreaker.” 

“The original Flawless Four or the one with Fern?” Duke asked. 

“The original, duh.” Mac replied with a grin. 

Veronica frowned and tried to remember the last time she’d watched the movie, Jawbreaker. She’d watched it with Martha, who had a habit of talking through movies, and was never really able to get into it. She remembered being entertained, nonetheless. 

“And who’s gonna be who?” Chandler asked. 

“Well, I want to be Rose McGowan, obviously.” Mac said. 

“Heather, you don’t have brown hair.” Duke pointed out. 

“Wig technology exists.” Mac turned to Chandler with a pout. “Please let me be Rose McGowan. I never get to be the mean one.”

“They’re all mean, Heather.” Chandler was averting her eyes from Mac’s. She was desperately trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Come on, Heather.” Mac leaned into Chandler. “Please!” 

“Just let her be the bitch.” Veronica sighed. 

“Veronica is right, Heather.” Duke said, earning a glare from Chandler. She met the glare, not backing down. “Please.” She scoffed, smirking a little. “Heather already had you in her back pocket, it was just a matter of time.”

“It’s true.” Mac nodded. She whispered something into Chandler’s ear that made Chandler’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I had you on the ropes.” She said at full volume. 

“So who are the rest of us gonna be?” Duke asked. “I don’t want to be the dead one.” 

“No one wants to be the dead one!” Veronica had to struggle to keep her voice down. 

“Veronica has to be Rebecca Gayheart.” Mac said quickly. “She’s the tallest, and so is Julie.” She looked between Duke and Chandler. “One of you has to be the dead one.”

Chandler and Duke stared each other down for what felt like almost a full minute before Chandler spoke. 

“I sure as hell am not going to be Foxy.” She said confidently. “So I guess I’ll be the murder victim.”

“You’d rather be dead than Foxy?” Veronica asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. 

“I just figure that at some point during the night, you guys are going to have to carry my limp body around during the party.” Chandler shrugged. “And I, for one, think that sounds very fun.” 

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely gonna haul you around!” Mac nodded excitedly. “We have to make you a jawbreaker lump and everything!”

“Well, now that we have that settled,” Chandler snatched Duke’s worksheet from her and began to look it over. “Let’s get this assignment done.”

“How many times have you guys even watched Jawbreaker?”

. .

Signing up to chaperone kids while they go trick or treating turned out to be a better idea than Veronica had originally thought. The rules were simple, each chaperone was to be assigned four kids, sent out with their group for two hours, then had to return their four kids to the adult in charge. She didn’t even have to deal with parents, and it was even encouraged for groups to go together. 

“I can’t believe that this was basically a two hour walk through the neighborhood with my friends.” Veronica asked Chandler for clarification as she and her group joined The Heathers’. “It can’t possibly be this easy.”

“It is.” Chandler nodded, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “All we have to do is not die of frostbite.”

“I told you to bring mittens.” Mac said, turning around. She had been walking a little ways in front of the group and had to walk backward to show off the thick, yellow mittens she was wearing. They each had a little, red triceratops on them. 

“Yes, I know, but I didn’t listen, so here we are.” Chandler rolled her eyes. 

“I wore mine.” Duke said from Chandler’s other side. She showed off her own pair of mittens, they were green with bears on them. “You should have worn yours.” She looked at Chandler with a smirk. “Your Nana worked so hard on them.”

“Your Nana made you all mittens?” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought. She couldn’t picture what Heather Chandler’s grandmother was like. “That’s adorable.”

“Yeah, her Nana’s pretty cool.” Duke shrugged. “She’s way better than my grandma.”

“What’s wrong with your grandma?” Veronica asked. If Duke’s grandmother was anything like her mother, she could understand why Duke didn’t care for her.

“She’s really sweet, but also really religious.” Duke replied as they stopped outside of a group of houses. “When she came to America, she got really into Jesus. And she’s really hateful about the weirdest stuff. Like she’ll go off about women with short hair and we always have to be like ‘What would Jesus say about you having so much hate in your heart?’ And then she gets all teary eyed.”

Veronica frowned. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” 

“Her grandma doesn’t even look at me whenever I’m around her.” Mac added. 

“That’s because she hates the Irish.” Duke shrugged. “I told you not to use your last name when you first met her.”

“I was nine. She threw a potato at me before asking me if I liked being a part of the IRA.” Mac grimaced. 

“This is really putting a lot of pieces of the puzzle together.” Veronica laughed. “It just explains so much.” She turned to Chandler. “Please tell us more about your Nana that knits you and your friends adorable mittens.”

“Hers have stars on them.” Duke smiled. 

Chandler sighed. “She’s a ridiculously old and rickety lady who’s horrible to everyone except for me because I’m the baby of the family and I have the most pinchable cheeks of all her grandchildren. And my complexion is perfectly peaches and cream that she could just eat up.” She smiled a little. “I’m her favorite.” 

“Every answer brings more questions.” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh. 

Veronica watched as their groups of kids returned to the four of them with grins on their painted up faces. The smallest one, a girl who was dressed as a witch, ran up to Veronica. 

“They gave me two pieces!” She said with a smile that showed off her lost tooth. “Do you want the other one?”

Veronica felt her heart break a little at how cute this kid was. “That’s so sweet of you!” She took a fun sized candy bar from the little girl’s hand and gestured to another group of houses. “We should try and hit as many houses as possible before we have to get you to your parents. Don’t you want a huge haul?”

The little girl and the rest of the group all nodded. 

“Then we’d better motor!” Mac announced, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. 

The kids cheered as Veronica and The Heathers led them toward the next group of houses. 

“We need to think about heading back soon. We don’t want the kids to be late.” Chandler said. 

“Good, every minute I spend not watching the first or second Scream is a minute wasted.” Mac said, earning a nod from Duke. 

“And I Know What You Did Last Summer.” Duke added. 

“Do you guys just really like movies that have Sarah Michelle Gellar in them?” Veronica asked. 

“We love SMG.” Chandler said. “Heather changed her house’s voicemail to ‘Omega Beta Zeta, you’ve reached The McNamaras.’”

“My dad still hasn’t noticed.” Mac grinned, turning around as their groups ran up to them. “Whatcha guys get? Anything good?” 

Veronica watched in horror as the children slowly pulled toothbrushes out of their candy sacks. “Now that’s just awful.” She said. 

“People like that need to be stopped.” Chandler said, crossing her arms. “What do you guys say we head back to the school? Maybe hit some houses we might have missed on the way back?”

The kids let out a little cheer before heading off in the school’s direction. Veronica and The Heathers trailed behind them, they were chattering about how excited to get back to Mac’s place. Veronica listened as they walked, she’d normally love to join them, but when she’d asked her parents if she could go over, they’d told her that just because it was a holiday didn’t mean it wasn’t a school night. Her curfew was still in effect unfortunately. 

They made it back to the school a few minutes before eight and filled out their child return paperwork. It almost felt like they were returning books at the library. Except instead of a fine for a late return, she would be suspended and probably charged with child endangerment. 

“Your parents said it was okay for you to come to Kurt’s party, right?” Chandler asked while Duke and Mac turned their children in. “Because we’ll look really fucking stupid without you.”

“Don’t worry.” Veronica said, leaning against the lockers. “My mom was actually kind of worried that I’d be depressed and lonely because Martha’s gonna be out of town this weekend. And my dad just kept reminding me to call him if anything happens and that I wouldn’t get in trouble if I did.”

“You know that’s a lie, right?” Chandler crossed her arms. “That’s what they always say, then you call them and next thing you know, you’re grounded into next month after being screamed at for an hour straight.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Not the kind of family bonding I was hoping for.”

Veronica almost told Chandler that her parents, unlike Chandler’s, were good and normal parents. Almost. Instead she just hummed an acknowledgement. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Chandler nodded. “I look ridiculous in my costume, by the way.” She said after glancing toward Mac and Duke. “Heather’s lucky she’s cute, otherwise I would not have agreed to be a murder victim wearing skimpy pajamas for Halloween.” 

Veronica smiled a little at that. “What did you want to be?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chandler shrugged. “It was Heather’s turn to pick.”

“You guys are kinda cute, you know.” Veronica gently shoved Chandler’s shoulder.

“Of course we are.” Chandler scoffed. “Don’t let it get around though, we’ve got a reputation.”

“Cross my heart.”

. .

Stepping into Kurt Kelly’s Halloween party was awkward to say the least, and not just because their terrible date was still in the back of Veronica’s mind. It was mostly due to Heather Chandler’s insistence that she, the dead body of the group, should be carried into the house like it happened in the movie. So there Veronica was holding Chandler’s legs, while Mac supported her middle and Duke had her under the arms, hobbling up to Kurt Kelly’s front door just so Chandler could get the entrance she wanted. 

It was so dramatic and stupid that Veronica didn’t even really mind it. 

People turned to watch them as they carried Chandler over the threshold and into the house. A few guys wolf whistled at them as they hobbled by, Veronica was sure it was more due to Chandler’s outfit, or lack thereof. The girl she was dressed as only wore a pair of panties and a tank top in the scene Veronica and The Heathers were recreating, and Chandler was definitely going for accuracy with her outfit. It had taken the combined efforts of Veronica and the other Heathers to convince Chandler to wear a pair of flesh colored tights,

“Aren’t you glad you wore those tights?” Duke grunted as she readjusted her gip. “It’s cold as fuck outside and you’re basically in a tanktop and panties.”

“Shut up, I’m supposed to be dead.” Chandler replied, not opening her eyes.

“Then stop wiggling.” Veronica demanded, trying to maintain her grip on Chandler’s legs. “When can we put you down? I swear, you are the worst murder victim ever.”

“I don’t mind carrying her.” Mac said, she was smirking a little. 

“That’s because your hand hasn’t left my ass since you guys picked me up.” Chandler snapped. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I swear to god I’m going to drop you if you don’t shut up.” Duke groaned. 

“So, uh, what’re you supposed to be?” Kurt asked, approaching with a tray of jello shots. Veronica had no idea what his costume was supposed to be, but it involved being shirtless. “No wait, let me guess... You’re...” He paused and took a closer look at Chandler’s neck. “What the fuck is on your neck?”

“It’s a jawbreaker.” Chandler replied, kicking her legs a little. “Veronica, put me down.” 

Veronica obliged and dropped Chandler’s legs so she could stand up fully. The giant lump on her throat was unsettling due to the amount of time Chandler had spent making it look as real as possible. She looked like a real choking victim. 

“Well, you ladies look great.” Kurt said, not taking his eyes off Chandler. “Maybe I’ll be able to unmask you later? See the woman beneath the costume...?”

It had to have taken all of Chandler’s self control not to vomit all over Kurt at that line. He must have been thinking of that since before the party. 

“Anyway,” Kurt continued, shoving the jello shots forward. “You all need a jello shot! I made them myself!”

Veronica almost scowled at the memory of her first jello shot, but took one anyway. Maybe this time she wouldn’t end up spilling half of it down her face. “Thanks, Kurt.” She said as he wandered away, offering his shots to anyone with an open hand. “How the hell do I eat this thing without spilling all over myself?”

Mac laughed and took Veronica’s shot out of her hand. “First you have to loosen the mold.” She said, squeezing the shot container before passing it back to Veronica. “Then you either use your finger or your tongue to guide it into your mouth and slurp it into your mouth.”

“You could use a spoon too, but then you’d have to make the walk of shame to the kitchen.” Chandler supplied before downing her shot. “I use my tongue because I don’t want to have to deal with having a mess on my hands.”

Duke followed suit. “Same here, but you might want to try using your finger for your first real try.” She looked like she was trying not to laugh. 

Mac rolled her eyes. “Just finger the shot a little, it’ll loosen it up.” She started poking at her own shot to demonstrate. “Once you have it nice and loose from the fingering, you tilt your head back and just let it slide down your throat.” She downed the shot quickly before smiling. “See? One day, you’ll be able to just do it with your tongue, but you need to get used to it.”

Veronica did as Mac instructed and poked her shot probably a little too roughly before tipping her head back and letting it slide into her mouth. It tasted a lot better than the first one she’d taken, that was for sure. And she didn’t lose half of the shot either. It still tasted like crap though.

“Kurt cannot make a jello shot to save his life.” Duke said with a shake of her head. 

“It’s because he doesn’t let them cool long enough.” Chandler said, linking arms with Veronica and pulling her toward the backyard while the others followed. “They don’t set properly and they start to separate.” 

“And it’s gross.” Duke scowled. 

“Where are we going?” Veronica asked. 

“We’re going to the keg!” Mac grinned, throwing an arm around Duke. “Gotta get this party started!”

Kurt’s Halloween party was very similar to the party at Ram’s house earlier in the year, except everyone was in some kind of costume. There had to be at least fourteen Batmans running around and twice as many girls dressed as cats, what surprised Veronica the most was how many bumble bees there were wandering around. She didn’t know that was a popular costume at all, and yet there they were. 

“There are a lot of bees.” Mac said, passing Veronica a red solo cup. 

“And Batmans.” Veronica nodded, taking a big swig of her beer and scowling. It was god awful. “Will beer ever taste better?”

“No.” Duke shook her head. “It’ll always taste like death. Sorry. Don’t worry, though, we’re not staying here all night.”

“What’re we doing after this?” Veronica asked. “A seance in a graveyard? Break into an abandoned house?”

“First off,” Chandler said with a scoff. “Did you learn all of your pastimes from teen movies?” Veronica’s cheeks heated up a little. “Second of all, it’s not even actually Halloween, so spooky shit isn’t even really on the table at this point. We’re going to take advantage of my parents being away and after-party at mine.” 

“Oh cool.” Veronica nodded. “How come we’re here then?”

“Because I look fucking good.” Chandler gestured to her outfit. “And it would be a waste not to show off a little.” She took a sip of her beer. 

“Why didn’t you throw a party then?” Veronica asked. “You’d be able to take advantage of your parents being out, and show off.”

“I don’t want all these people at my house.” Chandler replied, gesturing around her. Everything was a huge mess already, there was trash everywhere and someone was vomiting in a decorative vase. “Look what they’re doing here. I don’t want that at my house. I’d be the one who has to clean it up!” She looked disgusted at the thought. 

“And I don’t want to have to help you.” Duke added, grimacing when a junior boy ran into the room shouting. 

“Heather!” He pointed at the group. “Down in one!” 

The phrase inspired everyone around them to start chanting. “Down in one! Down in one!”

Mac shrugged and tipped her head back, finishing her drink in one gulp. She gave Duke a little shove. 

Duke rolled her eyes and followed suit, looking to Chandler when she was done. “Down in one, Heather.” 

Chandler wrinkled her nose and finished her drink. This earned a large cheer from everyone before they went back to their own business. 

“I hate that.” Chandler scowled, filling her cup again. 

“What’d Kurt even get, PBR?” Mac passed her cup to Chandler for it to be filled again. 

“I don’t know how you can even tell, all beer tastes like asparagus piss.” Duke grumbled as she held her own cup out for a refill. 

Veronica’s nose wrinkled at that. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, Heather.” She said. “Congrats.”

Duke raised her cup in a mock salute with a dry smile. “Glad to be of service.”

The party was pumping and it looked like Kurt and Ram were being kept entertained by a pair of cheerleaders. Or a pair of girls who were dressed as cheerleaders. Those two seemed to be the only two guys at the school who felt confident enough to approach The Heathers, so they were mostly left alone during the party. This allowed them to do shots without someone making a blow job joke, Veronica had even been able to watch Duke do a body shot off of Chandler without having to hear a threesome joke being made. By a guy at least.

“I would love to get in the middle of that.” Mac muttered, Veronica assumed it was to herself. 

“I don’t think there’s anything stopping you.” 

. .

Veronica stumbled into Chandler’s house, her legs sort of felt like jelly and she had to use Mac and Duke for support. She was definitely drunk, she’d done a lot of tequila shots at Kurt’s party, it took her a few tries to remember what order she was supposed to do them in. Just the thought made her break down in a fit of giggles. 

“What’s so funny?” Mac asked with a little smile as she and Duke started to drag Veronica up the stairs. 

“I don’t know how to drink tequila.” Veronica giggled, putting all of her weight on Mac. “How c-come I’m just... so thrashed and you’re not?”

“Because you insisted on taking shots until you got it right.” Chandler said as she locked the front door. “Do you want to borrow some pajamas?”

Veronica laughed again. “I-I never got the shots right... d-did I?” She paused. “Salt, lime, shot. Right?”

“Wrong.” Duke grunted. “Why is it that I’m stuck carrying people around all night? First Heather and now Veronica? Next year, I’m the one who’s getting carried around.”

“What am I, a pack mule?” Mac muttered. 

Veronica was led into a spare bedroom before Mac and Duke all but threw her onto the bed. “Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner before you take me to bed?” She giggled. 

“Do you want some pajamas or not?” Chandler demanded. “I’m not asking three times.”

“Why do I need pajamas?” Veronica asked, trying to sit up before falling back down again. “Whoops.” She giggled at that. “We’re supposed to be after-partying!” She sat back up and threw her hands in the air.

“I’m going to push you back down and if you can sit up again, we’ll after-party.” Mac said before shoving Veronica’s forehead back. 

The rest of her body followed head and she fell back onto the bed. She tried to get back up, but every part of her, not just her legs, felt like jelly. Besides the bed was so comfortable, there was no point in getting back up. 

“I live here now.” Veronica mumbled, closing her eyes. “This is my life.”

“Heather, go get a big t-shirt from my dresser.” Chandler sighed. “We’re gonna have to get her into some pajamas or she’ll bitch about it in the morning.” 

The last thing Veronica heard before she fell asleep was Duke and Mac agreeing before a door slammed shut. 

[angelicthor]

sex dice

pairing: lance tucker x reader

summary: lance tucker + sex dice. what more could you want? 

warnings/genre: +18 only, pwp, unprotected sex. 

masterlist

a/n: guys, gals, and non-binary pals heres everyones favourite dickhead 

Before you started dating Lance Tucker, you were completely unaware at how kinky he was but more importantly, how kinky you were. You suppose it took the right man to bring it out of you and God you were happy he did. There was something about Lance that just compelled you to want to do the sordid things he suggested. And that’s how you wound up here, laying naked on your bed with an equally naked Lance, a pair of sex dice between you.

“Alright Kitten this is how it works, you roll the dice and whatever combination you get is what you do, easy right?” His voice was husky with desire at the anticipation of what was about to happen, the sound alone enough to stir arousal within you.

“Yeah, I got it,” you whispered in response, your voice unable to go any louder, “Who’s going first?”

Lance’s signature smirk was all you got in acknowledgment before his large hands plucked the dice from the bed and rolled them, throwing them out between the both of you.

‘Lick - Lips’

You giggled at the combination and looked towards Lance, raising an eyebrow in challenge, the corner of your lips rising in amusement. His eye’s narrowed in mock-annoyance as he crawled on top of you slowly - drawing out the movements and causing your lust to grow. His face hovered above yours before his mouth lowered and his tantalizing tongue came out to gently stroke across your sealed lips, the action causing you to sigh and he used the opportunity to press his lips against yours, his tongue delving into your mouth caressing your own to move against his in a heated kiss.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes tracing over your features. “That was cheating, it said ‘lick lips’ not kiss them,” your breathed out against his lips.

He chuckled, murmuring against your shoulder: “I did lick your lips, there’s no rules against stopping there though Kitten” nipping the soft skin of your neck.

You grabbed the dice from the bed, throwing them back down to find out what you have to do.

‘Nibble - Above Waist’

You bite your lip and looked up at Lance, whose eyes had blown wide with Lust, only a small ring of blue visible. Pushing him onto his back and crawling down his body, you sucked random marks into the toned skin of his torso and bites onto his abs, Lance watching you in suspense with a hooded stare. You paused at the tattoo that painted his lower stomach, and began to trace the ribbon of his gold medal with your tongue; his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to weave themselves in your hair and push your head down. Only when his cock was twitching against his stomach did you pull away, completely avoiding his weeping tip that was aching to be touched, much to Lance’s annoyance.

His head raised to meet yours as he gave you a look of incredulity, his eyebrows raising in a near comically way. You giggled at the reaction you were able to pull from him and shrugged in response to his glaringly obvious question.

“I did what the dice told me too: no more, no less.”

His eyes narrowed at you and a sly smirk crossed his face. Before you could even question it pushed you back and rolled the dice once more, eagerly waiting for them to settle on the bed.

‘Fondle-Chest’

His eyes met yours and the desire swimming in his blue orbs made you clench your thighs together in anticipation, an action Lance reveled in. Pushing you to rest against the pillows, Lance hovered over you once more, his lips lightly brushing over the supple skin of your chest; a light gasp escaping your parted lips at the sensation as goose bumps followed in their wake.

Hot lips enclosed around one of your nipples as his eyes flickered up to yours right as he strongly sucked on the bud, causing a wail to tear from your lips. Lance took that as his queue to really get to work; grazing his teeth against the nipple in his mouth whilst his hand came to palm to your neglected breast, fingers deftly pulling against the nipple so until it was as sensitive as the other. Your chest arched into his touch, desperate for more, and your arousal coated your thighs with its intensity. The foreplay had gone on for long enough.

“La-Lance please, can we - ugh - just fu-fuck now?”

His deep chuckle met your ears and you knew he wasn’t through with you yet: “Aw, does Kitten not like being teased? It’s not nice is it?”

Oh fuck, he’s getting pay back. Fine, two can play at this game.

Grabbing the forgotten dice you willed yourself to roll them once more.

‘Suck - Below Waist’

Jackpot!

You pushed Lance onto his back, his wide eyes transfixed on the words engraved on the dice. You were pretty sure from the look on his face he was praying to whoever was listening to thank them for such an invention as sex dice. You were unwilling to let him stay on such thoughts any longer, sliding down his body and gripped his already leaking cock, using the pre-cum as lubricant. His hips bucked in shock at finally having his aching cock given some needed attention, his hands weaved themselves through your locks not yet pushing you but you knew they would eventually - Lance liked to be in control.

Licking a strip from the base to his tip you heard him sharply hiss at the unexpected warmth on his sensitive cock, the grip he had on your hair getting tighter in encouragement. Deciding to put him out of his misery (and, eventually, yours) you lapped at the dripping beads at his head before taking him into your mouth. You pushed your head down his shaft, tongue tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, basking in the guttural groan that tore from his throat. You bobbed your head quickly, building his orgasm, and pushed your head back into his hands as indication to take over like you new he wanted to. He took the hint, pulling all the strands of hair away from your face into a make shift pony tail and started pushing and pulling your head up and down his cock, taking full control. His hips began to buck uncontrollably into your mouth and his grunts were animalistic in nature, only serving to turn you on more.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, keeping them wide and innocent the way you knew drove him mad. And like always, it worked.

He pulled you off his painfully hard cock, throwing you down on the bed, causing you to bounce at the impact. You looked up at him in shock as he forced your legs apart, hands bruising the soft skin of your thighs as he pinned them to the bed beneath you.

“Such a fucking tease, aren’t you Y/N?” He rolled his hips between your legs, his thick cock gliding between your wet lips, rubbing against your clit causing you to arch against him.

Your hands dug into the skin of his back as your nails raked down his skin in an effort to keep composure. You felt his lips on your neck and yelped when he began biting down on the skin, knowing there would be bruises in his wake that you wouldn’t be able to cover. You writhed beneath him, needing more, needing him to drive you into the mattress so good you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

Licking at the shell of his ear, you basked in the small shiver than ran down his back, and whispered into his ear: “Come on Tucker, that all you got?”

Lance’s head snapped him, blazing eyes locking on yours, his harsh grip tightening on your thighs creating a deliciously sharp pain. His lips meshed against yours in a punishing kiss, a battle of tongues, teeth clashing against each other. It was dirty, sinful, and down-round carnal the consuming need you had for each other.

Pulling away from the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting against each others mouths from the intensity of the kiss. A dark smirk played n his lips adding to the fires of your desire.

“Not even close Kitten” He growled against your lips.

He took his heavy cock in his hand, soaking it in your juices before snapping his hips forward burying himself in your dripping cunt. You both moaned at the needed relief, he gave you no time to adjust before setting a brutal pace - his cock filling you repeatedly, pressing against your sensitive spots causing you to cry out with every snap of his hips.

“Fu-Fuck Lance, right there baby, shit”

You raised your hips to meet his thrusts, pushing him further into you. He raised to his knees, hands cupping your ass to give him a better angle to graze against your g-spot.

“Come on Y/N, cum for me, cum all over my cock Kitten - fuck”

Your hands grasped at the shits beneath you as you thrashed on the bed, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your orgasm tore through you. Your pussy clamping down on his cock with a vice grip caused Lance’s hips to stutter as his own orgasm finally came, your cunt milking his cum from him.

He collapsed on top of you, panting against your neck as you ran your hands down his soft skin to calm you both down. Lance lifted his head to look at you, his usual mischievous glint returned matching his cocky smirk, “So Kitten, take it you liked the sex dice then?”

You giggled at him, as you tried to regulate your breathing, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth you nodded your head, “Yes, very much.”

He pulled out of you, laying on his side, pulling you to rest on his chest. His hands caressing the skin of your back, lips pressing soft kisses against your forehead as you traced senseless shapes on his chest, the both of you basking in your post-orgasm glow.

“So what else did you wanna try out?”

You felt him smirk against your forehead in response to your question.

“Oh kitten, just you wait.”

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

Lover (2019) Sentence Prompts

feel free to change pronouns and other specific details

How many days did I spend thinking ‘bout how you did me wrong?

Lived in the shade you were throwing ‘til all of my sunshine was gone

I couldn’t get away from you

In my feelings more than Drake

Your name on my lips, tongue-tied

Free rent, living in my mind

But then something happened one magical night

I forgot that you existed

I thought that it would kill me, but it didn’t

It isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference

Got out some popcorn as soon as my rep started going down

Laughed on the schoolyard as soon as I tripped up and hit the ground

I would’ve stuck around for you, would’ve fought the whole town

Would’ve been right there, front row, even if nobody came to your show

But you showed who you are

Sent me a clear message

Taught me some hard lessons, I just forget what they were

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night

Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price

You know that I bought it

I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more

It’s new, the shape of your body

It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got

It’s a cruel summer

It’s cool, that’s what I tell ‘em

No rules in breakable heaven

Hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine

We say that we’ll just screw it up in these trying times

We’re not trying

Cut the headlights

Summer’s a knife

I’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

If I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

I’m drunk in the back of the car

I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Said, “I’m fine,” but it wasn’t true

I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer

Just to seal my fate

I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?

He looks up grinning like a devil

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January

This is our place, we make the rules

There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Take me out and take me home

You’re my lover

We could let our friends crash in the living room

I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true

You’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

At every table, I’ll save you a seat

I would be complex

I would be cool

They’d say I played the field before I found someone to commit to

That would be okay for me to do

Every conquest I had made would make me more of a boss to you

I’d be a fearless leader, I’d be an alpha type

When everyone believes you, what’s that like?

I’m so sick of running as fast as I can

I’d get there quicker if I was a man

I’m so sick of them coming at me again

If I was a man

I’d be the man

I hustled, put in the work

Shake their heads and question how much of this I deserve

And they would toast to me

What’s it like to brag about raking in dollars and getting bitches and models?

It’s all good if you’re bad and it’s okay if you’re mad

I’d be a bitch, not a baller

They paint me out to be bad

It’s okay that I’m mad

I’m ready for combat

I don’t want that, but what if I do?

Cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold on to you

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling, but who could stay?

I search for your dark side

What if I’m alright right here?

I cut off my nose just to spite my face

I hate my reflection for years and years

I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

All of my heroes die all alone

They see right through me

Can you see right through me?

I see right through me

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men, couldn’t put me together again

All of my enemies started out friends

His footprints on the sidewalk lead to where I can’t stop

His hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it’s mine

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I’m drawing up the plans

It’s like I’m seventeen, nobody understands

He got my heartbeat skipping down 16th Avenue

Wanna see what’s under that attitude

I want you, bless my soul

I ain’t gotta tell him, I think he knows

I’ll make myself at home and he’ll want me to stay

He’d better lock it down or I won’t stick around

Good ones never wait

He’s so obsessed with me and, boy, I understand

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We could follow the sparks

I’ll drive

Where we gonna go?

You know I adore you

I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen

I’m lost in the lights

Ripped up my prom dress

Running through rose thorns

I saw the scoreboard and ran for my life

No cameras catch my pageant smile

I counted days, I counted miles 

It’s you and me, that’s my whole world

They whisper in the hallway, “She’s a bad, bad girl”

The whole school is rolling fake dice

You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

We’re so sad, we paint the town blue

Voted most likely to run away with you

My team is losing, battered and bruising

I see the high fives between the bad guys

You are the only one who seems to care

The damsels are depressed

Boys will be boys, then where are the wise me?

Darling, I’m scared

No cameras catch my muffled cries

I don’t really wanna fight, ‘cause nobody’s gonna win

I think you should come home

I’ll never let you go, ‘cause I know this is a fight that someday we’re gonna win

She’s a bad, bad girl

High, like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

I’ve read all of the books beside your bed

Cold, like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Kiss me once ‘cause you know I had a long night

Kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright

Three times ‘cause I waited my whole life

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

You’re the one I want in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

In the icy outdoor pool, when you jumped in first, I went in too

I’m with you even if it makes blue

Takes me back to the color that we painted your brother’s wall

Without all the exes, fights, and flaws

We wouldn’t be standing here so tall

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

Drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

I rent a place on Cornelia Street

We were a fresh page on the desk, filling in the blanks as we go

As if the street lights pointed in an arrow head leading us home

I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I’d never walk Cornelia Street again

That’s the kinda heartbreak time could never mend

I get mystified by how this city screams your name

I’m so terrified of it you ever walk away

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

Memorize the creaks in the floor

Back when we were card sharks

I thought you were leading me on

I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street, before you even knew I was gone

You called, showed your hand

I turned around before I hit the tunnel

Sat on the roof, you and I

You hold my hand on the street

Walk me back to that apartment years ago

We were just inside barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings that became my religion

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk but it’s not enough

The morning comes and you’re not my baby

I look through the windows of this love even though we boarded them up

Chandelier’s still flickering here

I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not

I dress to kill my time

I take the long way home

I ask the traffic lights if it’ll be alright, they say, “I don’t know”

What once was ours is no one’s now

The only thing we share is this small town

It was a great love, one for the ages

If the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

My heart, my hips, my body, my love

Tryna find a part of me that you didn’t touch

Gave up on me like I was a bad drug

Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club

Our songs, our films, united we stand 

Our country, guess it was a lawless land

Quiet my fears with a touch of your hand

Paper cut stings from out paper-thin plans

My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust

Tryna find a part of me you didn’t take up

Gave you so much, but it wasn’t enough

But I’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts

I love my hometown as much as Motown

Something happened, I heard him laughing

I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent

They say home is where the heart is, but that’s not where mine lives

You know I love a London boy

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet

Darling, I fancy you

I guess all the rumors are true

Boy, I fancy you

Now I love high tea

You can find me in the pub

We are watching rugby with his school friends

Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride

Babes, don’t threaten me with a good time

God, I love the English

Doesn’t have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Stick with me, I’m your queen

The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair

I didn’t tell you I was scared

That was the first time we were there

Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you

Desperate people find faith

Now I pray to Jesus too

Soon you’ll get better

You’ll get better soon ‘cause you have to

I know delusion when I see it in the mirror

You like the nicer nurses

You make the best of a bad deal

I just pretend it isn’t real

I’ll paint the kitchen neon

I’ll brighten up the sky

I know I’ll never get it, there’s not a day that I won’t try

I hate to make this all about me, but who am I supposed to talk to?

What am I supposed to do if there’s no you?

This won’t go back to normal, if it ever was

It’s been years of hoping

I keep saying it because I have to

You’ll get better

We were crazy to think that this could work

Remember how I said I’d die for you?

We were stupid to jump in the ocean separating us

Remember how I’d fly to you?

I can’t talk to you when you’re like this

Staring out the window like I’m not your favorite town

I’m New York City

I still do it for you, babe

They all warned us about times like this

The road gets hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith

We might just get away with it

Religion’s in your lips

Even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship

The altar is my hips

We’d still worship this love

I know heaven’s a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey

Hell is when I fight with you

We can patch it up good

Make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness

Got the wine for you

You can’t talk to me when I’m like this

Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you

You’re the West Village

You still do it for me, babe

You are somebody that I don’t know

Taking shots at me like it’s Patrón

Damn, it’s 7 AM

Say it in the street, that’s a knock-out

Say it in a Tweet, that’s a cop-out

I ain’t tryna mess with your self-expression

I’ve learned a lesson that stressing and obsessing ‘bout somebody else is no fun

Snakes and stones never broke my bones

You need to calm down

You’re being too loud

Can you just not step on my gown?

You’re coming at my friends like a missile

Why are you mad when you could be glad?

Sunshine on the street at the parade

You would rather be in the dark ages

Making that sign must’ve taken all night

You just need to take several seats

Try to restore the peace

Control your urges to scream about all the people you hate

Shade never made anybody less gay

We see you over there on the internet

Comparing all the girls who are killing it

We figured you out

We all know now we all got crowns

I blew things out of proportion, now you’re blue

Put you in jail for something you didn’t do

I pinned your hands behind your back

Thought I had reason to attack, but no

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us

Why’d I have to break what I love so much?

It’s on your face and I’m to blame

It’s all me in my head

I’m the one who burned us down

It’s not what I meant

Sorry that I hurt you

I don’t wanna do this to you

I don’t wanna lose this with you

It’s all me, just don’t go

Meet me in the afterglow

It’s so excruciating to see you low

Just wanna lift you up and not let you go

This ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight

I lived like an island, punished you with silence

Went off like sirens

Tell me that you’re still mine

Tell me that we’ll be just fine even when I lose my mind

Tell me that it’s not my fault

Tell me that I’m all you want even when I break my heart

I promise that you’ll never find another like me

I know that I’m a handful

I know I never think before I jump

You’re the kind of guy the ladies want

There’s a lot of cool chicks out there

I know that I went psycho on the phone

I never leave well enough alone

Trouble’s gonna follow where I go

One of these things is not like the others

When it comes to a lover

I’m the only one of me

Baby, that’s the fun of me

You’re the only one of you

Baby, that’s the fun of you

I promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

I will never bore you, baby

There’s a lot of lame guys out there

We had that fight out in the rain

You ran after me and called my name

I never wanna see you walk away

Living in winter, I am your summer

Hey kids, spelling is fun!

There ain’t no I in “team”, but you know there is a “me”

You can’t spell “awesome” without “me”

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

“Wanna hang out?” Yeah, sounds like fun

Video games, you pass me a note, sleeping in tents

It’s nice to have a friend

Light pink sky, up on the roof

Sun sinks down, no curfew

20 questions, we tell the truth

You’ve been stressed out lately, yeah, me too

Something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

Church bells ring, carry me home

Rice on the ground looks like snow

Call my bluff, call you “Babe”

Have my back every day

Stay in bed the whole weekend

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven

I’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night 

Now I see daylight

Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

I became the butt of the joke

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I’ve stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers

Because it’s morning now

It’s brighter now

I can still see it all in my mind

All of you, all of me, intertwined

I once believed love would be black and white (but it’s golden)

I can still see it all in my head

Back and forth from New York, sneaking in your bed

I once believed love would be burning red

It’s golden like daylight

You gotta step into the daylight and let it go

I wanna be defined by the things that I love

Not the things I hate

Not the things I’m afraid of

The things that haunt me in the middle of the might

You are what you love

[hellyeahheroes]

Building Kara Zor-El in D&D 5e

What? I haven’t done one of these in a while and I had a few done (check out the Masterpost). So why not, it’s Halloween (I was working on this whole night), let’s build someone many kids want to be and quite a few likely dressed up as for Halloween. Admittingly this might be a bit standing the boundaries of “more obscure characters than Tulok the Barbarian does”, buuut seeing how he hasn’t yet got around building her more popular cousin, I’m not exactly expecting her build from him soon. Anyway, why not surprise your DM on Halloween game or later and come with a sheet for Girl of Steel?

First, let us state our goals for this build. First, we need to be able to fly, use heat vision, cold breath, super hearing, and sight. Second, we need to be able to punch and take a hit as well. Finally, we need to ensure Kara is an inspiring hero other can look up to.

For Ability Scores, I’ll be sticking to standard point array - 15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8, if your DM would you rather use a point-buy or roll, consider these to be the guidelines.

Strength: 15, Kryptonians are known for their physical might

Dexterity: 12, Kara usually isn’t wearing armor and is known for her speed and reflexes.

Constitution: 13, you’re Girl of Steel, not Woman of Kleenex (watch no one gt or care for this outdated reference and make me feel older than dirt -.-)

Intelligence: 8, Kara is pretty bright but her education was Kryptonian, meaning she had some trouble catching on what humanity knows and what it doesn’t, in some continuities at least

Wisdom: 10, Kara is often shown as more reckless and impulsive than her cousin, but her heightened Kryptonian senses mitigate it a bit.

Charisma: 14, the second-highest stat. Kara is beloved by people, has a reputation of a sweetheart, is inspiring to many and you kinda need this to pull off that whole “secret identity” thing.

There is no Kryptonian Race in 5e. There are two races I’ve been thinking off for this. Aasimar has more thematic sense but since Half-Elf makes it easier to mitigate the inherent MADness (MAD - Multiple Ability Dependent) of playing a Supergirl, it will work better for our purposes. You get +2 to Charisma and +1 to two other Ability Scores of your choice, round up Strength and Constitution to start with 2 16s and a 14. You have an advantage for saving throws against being Charmed, helping us mitigate a bit that poor WIS save. You get Darkvision, allowing you to see in the dim light up to 60 feet as if it was a bright light and in darkness as if it were dim light. You learn Common, Elvish and one language of your choice, pick something Campaign relevant and whatever instrument you want to play when fighting Music Meister. You also get proficiency with two skills of your choice. Pick Persuasion and Perception

For Background we will be picking outlander - you are not from around wherever the campaign is taking place, a wild-eyed idealist in a world that needs more smiles. You gain proficiency with Athletics and Survival, one type of musical instrument and one language of your choice. You also get a Wanderer Feature, which makes you more adept at traveling, better at using maps and gives you an excellent memory.

Now, with this out of the way, let’s go to the bread and butter of D&D, the Classes.

We will kick off with a level in Warlock. Yes, you heard me right. Warlock. The edgelord of all classes. Where are you going, hear me out! I swear I didn’t lose my mind. There is logic to this choice and I will be explaining it in a moment, but first, we need to get a number of Warlock features out of the way. Warlock gets proficiency in Light Armor, Simple Weapons, as well as Charisma and Wisdom saving throws, further helping mitigate that poor WIS score. Add proficiency in two more skills, Investigation to scoop villain plots and Deception for your secret identity.

Warlock gets to have spells. Warlock spells work in that you get a small number of spell slots that go back after every short rest and you can use them to cast any spell you know. As you learn higher level spells to know, your spells are treated as cast from the highest level possible. Cantrips you can cast any number of times you want and they scale up with your level. Your saving throw for spells is 8 + Your Proficiency Bonus + Your Charisma Modifier and if you make a spell attack roll it’s just the last two of those.

You get to learn two Cantrips and two First Level Spells

Let us get the Cold Breath first. Frostbite is a cantrip that forces a target to make a Constitution saving throw or take 1d6 cold damage and get a disadvantage on the next weapon attack roll if it makes one during its next turn. Damage increases by 1d6 on your 5th, 11th and 17th level

Eldritch Blast is the Warlock Cantrip. It sends a beam that requires a ranged spell attack and on hit it deals 1d10 Force Damage to the target. On get to send one more blast at the same or different target as a single casting on 5th, 11th and 17th level. Play it as part of your heat vision or Kara blowing her enemies away with a regular super breath.

Armor of Aghatys lets Kara surround herself with some of her cold breath, giving her 5 extra health points. Additionally, if a creature hits you with a melee attack while you have these hit points, it takes 5 points of cold damage. And for each spell slot level above the first both these numbers increase by 5.

Hellish Rebuke is cast as a reaction when a creature damaged you and lets you burn them with heat vision, taking 2d10 fire damage or half on successful Dexterity saving throw. At higher levels the damage increases by 1d10 each.

Okay, now let us talk about the Otherworldly Patron. And here is why I decided to go with the Warlock. Because there is one that fits perfectly. Celestial Patron means you draw your powers from some sort of celestial being or entity and these are divine in nature. It would fit Kara perfectly if only there was some sort of fitting thing. I mean, t’s not like Kryptonians gain their powers from some sort of body on the celestial pantheon, something great and powerful in the sky, source of their powers is...

OH MY GOD IT’S THE SUN!!!!1!!!!

You’re Sun Warlock, you made a pact with the Sun. Sun had enough of BBEG’s bullshit. If a goldilocks guy with a pair of wings can count as Celestial Patron then I assure you SO CAN AN ACTUAL STAR! Also, I now recall in 4th Edition Stara were actually sentient so who knows, you can work something out of that, maybe such a star survived to a new edition. We even know Stars are sentient and have personifications from one Sandman story.

Celestial Warlock lets you add two spells for each level of your spell list and you learn two extra cantrips:

Light lets you make one object not larger than 10-feet shine a bright light in a 20-foot radius and an additional 20 of dim light. If you cast it on an object held by someone they need to succeed a Dexterity saving throw or drop it. You can always use it to make yourself shine or make something shine as an effect of your heat vision.

Speaking of which, Sacred Flame deals a 1d8 radiant damage to a target, with an additional 1d8 once you reach 5th, 11th and 17th level each, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw.

You also get Healing Light, granting you a pool of 1d6 dice equal 1 + your Warlock Level. You can spend them as a bonus action to heal a creature within 60 feet that you can see. Roll a number of dice, not larger than your Charisma modifier, that’s your upper limit for single use of this feature, then add that many to the creature’s hit points. Once you spend all the die out, you get them back on short rest. Remember, hit points aren’t meat points, they can symbolize also how many chances at avoiding a certain death a hero has or their determination to keep going against overwhelming odds. Play Kara as so heroic and inspirit she reinvigorates her friends for further fight.

ALTERNATIVE: Weird, I wasn’t planning for an alternative here. We’re *zzzzzzzzzzt*-ing to the Celestial, it is only *shhhhh* fitting option. Weird, it seems we have some ---LET ME IN--- problems with the broadcast but don’t worry, I’m sure we fi *scratching noises* it in no time. Why do I suddenly feels like if I someone was standing right behin...DEA--

Well, well, well, what do we have here. You really thought I’m going to let you have something fun and wholesome on Halloween and do not...spice it up a bit. HAHAHAHA! Aren’t you funny? As if I could keep myself from seeing something related to my new...pet projects, and not want to corrupt it.

Forget the Celestial Patron, I have a much better one right here, to truly make your Supergirl a little bit more...Infected. My good old friend Barbatos, a horror trapped in the darkness below all of us. In this game, they call that Great Old One. Instead of some meek Cantrips, I will be freeing Supergirl’s mind from all these pesky limitations and allow her to spread this Infection. She will gain Awakened Mind, allowing her to telepathically communicate with any creature she can see within 30 feet. You may call it super hearing and I will call it the influence of her new master.

But maybe that’s not up to your taste? Maybe you want something more...crispy. Well, you can always ask my new best friend who has his own interest in Supergirl one time. Am I right, buddy?

WHO THE FUCKING JAR OF COCKROACHES STUFFED INTO A FLYING SQUIRREL’S ASS ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET MY NUMBER?! ONCE I FIND OUT I WILL BURN ALL THAT LEATHER AND FLESH UNDERNEATH IT TO A GODDAMN CRIPS! THAT WILL TEACH YOU CALLING 3RD IN THE FUCKING MORNING! FUCKING TRICK OR TREATERS!

ANYWAY, IF YOU WANT TO TURN YOUR SUPERGIRL INTO RED DAUGHTER OF KRYPTON, PICK UP FIEND PATRON, THAT WILL BE ME OF COURSE. OR THE BUTCHER, SAME THING AT THE END OF THE FUCKING DAY!

YOU GET DARK ONES’ BLESSING, IT MEANS THAT WHENEVER YOU REDUCE AN OPPONENT TO 0 HEALTH POINTS, YOU GET BACK HEALTH POINTS EQUAL YOUR CHARISMA MODIFIER PLUS YOUR WARLOCK LEVEL! PUNISH THE GUILTY TO KEEP ON FIGHTING!

Ah that Atrocitus. A crude man, but gotta give him that, he sure is excited about his craft. We will be sticking around to make this thing a bit more...fun. Do not tell the fool hosting this. It will be our little secret.

I’m sorry, I must have dozed off, I must been just very tired, but I’m better now. So, where did we left off...

2nd Level Warlock gains Eldritch Invocations. Armor of Shadows maybe is not properly named but you can always refluff something. It allows you to cast Mage Armor on yourself without expending a spell slot. It lets you change AC of yourself or one willing creature to 13+Dexterity modifier, this should help with your poor AC. As you probably use Eldritch Blast a lot as part of your Heat Vision, let's make it a bit hotter - Agonizing Blast lets you add your Charisma modifier to any damage dealt by it.

You also get to learn a new spell. 

Guiding Bolt from Celestial Patron lets you make a ranged Spell Attack against the target. Not only you deal 1d6 radiant damage on a successful hit (+1d6 for each spell slot level above 1st that it was cast from) but also before the end of your next turn next attack against the target gets an advantage since you basically lit the target on fire. Party Rogue is gonna love you.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, but where is fun in that? How about you instead pick something more...entertaining? Tasha’s Hideous Laughter from Great Old One Patron lets you pick one target and let them show how fun the world really is, make them appreciate how everything doesn’t really matter! Make them laugh so hard they fall prone and cannot stand up! It’s like you sprayed them with some good old Joker Serum, except you need to concentrate to keep it going for up to 1 minute and once you cast it, at the end of each their turn and whenever they’re damaged they make a Wisdom saving throw to break free, that last one with an advantage. So, you know, don’t punch... A Man Who Laughs. YAHAHAHAHA!

WHO THE FUCKS FIGHTS PEOPLE WITH LAUGHTER?! FUCK THAT SHIT! YOU WANNA SPELL? FIRST OF ALL, FUCK YOU AND SECOND, PICK BURNING HANDS FROM FIEND PATRON LIST. DON’T LET THE NAME FOOL YOU, WHAT YOU DO IS SPEW FIRE FROM YOUR MOUTH IN A 15-FOOT CONE AND  DEAL 3D6 FIRE DAMAGE TO EVERYONE IN IT,  HALF ON A FAILED SAVE! YOU CAST IT FROM HIGHER LEVELS, 1D6 EXTRA DAMAGE PER EACH! YOU’RE WELCOME! EVERYTHING FLAMMABLE NOT WORN OR CARRIED IS SET ON FIRE AS WELL! GOOD! BURN IT! BURN IT ALL DOWN!

3rd Level Warlock gets a Pact Boon Feature. Pact of the Chain lets us cast Find Familiar. We can use it to summon a pet to aid Kara in combat. Familiars are very useful if you know what you’re doing (seriously, Party Rogue is gonna love you even more just for using it to flank), once it dies you can summon it again, it can deliver your touch spells and you can sacrifice one of your attacks to let it attack. Sadly, you cannot get Krypto out of it, as dogs aren’t allowed for summon. But a cat is fine. Or in Warlock’s case a flying creature like Imp or Pseudodragon, Sprite or Quasit. First 3 can fly, all but Sprite have an advantage against Spells and Other Magical effects they share with you as long as you’re within 10 feet of them. Your DM shouldn’t probably be mad if you use statistics of one and refluff it as Streaky the Supercat

You also get to learn your first 2nd level Spell.

Celestial Warlock’s Flaming Sphere is a concentration spell you can keep up to 1 minute, it basically makes you cause huge ass fire in an unoccupied area 5-foot in diameter, dealing 2d6 (+1d6 for each higher spell slot level used) of fire damage, half on a successful Dexterity Saving Throw. You can even move it as a bonus action, up to 30 feet, and rise it up to 5 feet above barriers and 10 feet above pits, igniting all not worn or carried flammable objects, causing its damage effects on any creature you ram it into. More of your heat vision, really.

WHY DIDN’T I GOT THIS THING?! WHO THE FUCK WROTE THAT?! NEVERMIND, I HAVE SOMETHING AS GOOD! SCORCHING RAY LETS YOU MAKE 3 RAYS OF FIRE YOU CAN HURL AT A SINGLE OR MULTIPLE TARGETS, EACH DEALING 3D6 POINTS OF DAMAGE ON A SUCCESSFUL SPELL ATTACK ROLL! CAST IT FROM HIGHER LEVELS, YOU GET MORE RAYS, ONE PER SPELL SLOT LEVEL!

Personally, I just couldn’t resist picking  Crown of Madness. It lets you force a Wisdom Saving Throw on a target and if they fail they get Charmed and go mad. They even get a crown of jagged iron on their heads. You can keep it up for up to 1 minute with concentration and on each of its turns, you choose a target your victim must attack. Sadly it has few downsides - you must waste your actions on your turns to maintain the effects, the target makes another WIS save on end of each of its turns and they must hit someone before they move and if you do not choose a target or cannot, they can do whatever they want. Still, how can you say no to...spreading the joy?

4th Level Warlock gets an Ability Score Improvement, but we will take a feat. Tavern Brawler increases your unarmed damage die to 1d4, makes you proficient with improvised weapons, when you strike a creature with an unarmed attack or improvised weapon, you can use your bonus action to attempt to grapple the target. You also get to increase Strength or Constitution, I’ll go with the latter.

You also get a new spell AND a new Cantrip

Chill Touch lets you make a ranged spell attack, on a hit it deals 1d8 necrotic damage (plus extra d8s at level 5th, 11th and 17th) and makes the target unable to regain hit points until the start of your next turn and if the target is undead they have a disadvantage on attack rolls against you. More of your freeze breath.

 Shatter lets you make a super noise, I assume a super scream, dealing each creature within 10-foot radius sphere around the target you choose 3d8 thunder damage (+1d8 for each higher level of spell slot), half on a Constitution saving throw, on which all creatures made of inorganic material have a disadvantage on, and also dealing these damage to all nonmagical objects not worn or carried in the area

Now let’s take a move to Paladin and add some strength to all that magic. Kryptonians worshipped Rao, their star, which is close enough to your Patron, THE SUN you should probably not have much of a conflict. Maybe. Combining Patron and an Oath on a single character means that even with similar entities there might be a need to carefully balance the needs of your two masters. GM will either love you for providing such great opportunities for torturing you or hate you for having to come up with what kind of beef Rao and the fucking Sun could have.

Paladin gets you proficiency with martial weapons, medium armor and shields if you want to have your Kara in Lena’s power armor. You also get Divine Sense, allowing you to open awareness to your surroundings and detect any celestial, fiend or undead within 60 feet, as well as the type of that undead and also all areas that have been consecrated or desecrated. You can do it a number of times equal 1+ your CHA modifier and you egin uses after long rest.

You also get Lay on Hands, that allows you to, as a bonus action, restore hit points of you or a creature you touch up to amount equal your Paladin level x5 or you can spend 5 points from the pool to cure one poison or disease affecting the target. Again, treat this as Kara using her warm words and attitude to restore the fighting spirit of your comrades.

2nd Level Paladin gets to pick a fighting style. Mariner adds you +1 to AC and makes your swimming and climbing speed equal your walking speed as long as you’re not wearing armor.

You also get a Divine Smite, letting you burn a spell slot to deal extra radiant damage, 2d8 for 1st level spell slot and 1d8 extra for each higher level of the slot.

You also get Paladin Spells. Your save DC and Spell Attack Bonus are as for Warlock. However, Paladin just knows their spells and after every long rest, when they regain hit points, prepares a number of them equal to Charisma modifier + half your Paladin Level. To cast a spell paladin needs to burn a spell slot of an appropriate or higher level.  Also, you multiclass Warlock and another caster and that’s very simple - you keep an eye on each of their spell slot numbers separately but can use one’s to cast the other’s spells or for other’s features. Meaning you can burn Warlock spell slots to smite. You get 2 Spell slots but you should have at least 3 spell prepared per day so I’ll list 3 spells

Shield of Faith is a concentration spell for up to 10 minutes, providing the target with +2 bonus to AC. It stacks with Mariner and Mage Armor, meaning your AC can be up to 17 now.

Thunderous Smite is another concentration spell, it lets you on your next attack while you maintain the spell to punch someone so hard you cause huge sound wave, deal extra 2d6 damage to the target and forces them to succeed a Constitution saving throw or be pushed 10 feet away or be knocked prone.

Heroism lets you make yourself or other creature immune to being frightened and gain temporary hit points equal to your Charisma modifier. Casting from higher levels lets you pick up multiple targets for one spell.

Thunderous Smite in action.

On 3rd Level Paladin gets the Divine Health, making Kara immune to Earth diseases. You also get to choose the Divine Oath. Every Oath has rules you must follow and gains bonuses and extra spells known you can prepare.

Oath of Heroism from Unearthed Arcana is about embracing your heroic call. It’s basically built for He-Man types but it will work for Kara as well. 

You get a new spell to know - Expeditious Retreat is a Concentration spell, letting you Dash as a bonus action on each of your turns as long as you maintain it. Adds a bit of super speed to the mix.

You also get Channel Divinity,  which you can use once every long or short rest. You gain two options, both activated as a bonus action. Pearless Athlete lets you gain advantage on Athletics and Acrobatics checks, while Legendary Strike makes you crit on 19 or 20 instead of just 20 for 1 minute.

Bah, who would want that boring, tied, goody-two-shoes crap. Choose the Oath of Conquest instead. I’m not much a guy for the rules myself, but you may like the stuff Oath of Conquest has to offer 

For your new spell, choose Wrathful Smite. it works similar to Thunderous Smite, but deals psychic damage and the target hit must make Wisdom saving throw or be frightened of you.

Channel Divinity options are also better. Conquering Presence as an action forces each creature of your choice within 30 feet, as long as you can see them, to make a Wisdom saving throw or be frightened of you for 1 minute or until they succeed a save at the end of their turn. It’s like the Smite I just gave you...but you don’t need to get your hands dirty. Meanwhile Guided Strike lets you add +10 to an attack roll, you can choose to do it after you’ve rolled but before DM declares if it’s a hit or a miss.

UNSURPRISINGLY, I SEE ONLY ONE OATH WORTH MY TIME! OATH OF VENGEANCE! CHOOSE HUNTER’S MARK FOR A SPELL! REQUIRES CONCENTRATION BUT ONCE YOU MARK A TARGET, YOU DEAL EXTRA 1D6 DAMAGE TO IT WHENEVER YOU HIT THEM AND HAVE AN ADVANTAGE ON PERCEPTION AND SURVIVAL CHECKS TO TRACK THEM DOWN! AND WHEN THEY DROP TO ZERO HIT POINTS, YOU CAN PUT IT ON ANOTHER TARGET AS A BONUS ACTION! 

OW FOR THAT CHANNEL DIVINITY! AS A BONUS ACTION YOU CAN ACTIVATE VOW OF ENMITY, SWEARING YOUR VENGEANCE UPON A TARGET AND GAINING ADVANTAGE ON ATTACK ROLLS AGAINST IT FOR 1 MINUTE, UNTIL IT DROPS TO ZERO OR FALLS UNCONSCIOUS! FOR AN ACTION YOU CAN ABJURE ENEMY, FORCING A WISDOM SAVING THROW ON ONE TARGET! IF FAILED, THEY’RE FRIGHTENED FOR 1 MINUTE OR UNTIL IT TAKES DAMAGE AND IT’S SPEED IS REDUCED TO 0 AND CANNOT BE INCREASED! ON A SUCCESS ITS SPEED IS HALVED FOR THE SAME DURATION!

4th Level Paladin gains an Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. Resilient lets us round up Constitution and makes us proficient with Constitution saving throws.

5th Level Paladin gains an Extra Attack, letting you attack twice as an attack action and can now use 2nd level spells and one 1st level spell

Our 1st Level Spell will be Protection from Evil and Good. Up to 10 minutes on Concentration it grants all creatures of a chosen type - Celestial, Fiend, Fey, Undead, Elemental or Aberration - get a disadvantage on attacks against you, or another person you used it on, and are unable to charm, frighten or possess you. If the target already was under one of these effects,  it gains advantage on saving throws to break free.

Enhance Ability is a concentration spell from Oath of Heroism list, up to 1 hour of duration, giving an advantage on checks for one ability score and some extra bonuses depending on your choice.

Find Steed lets you summon a steed you can ride on. Sadly you’re too big to ride Krypto but, well, Comet the Superhorse exists. While riding him you can make any spell affecting you also affect him, you can communicate with him telepathically and if he dies he is sent back to whichever dimension you called him from and you can summon a new one. So that is a thing.

Yeah, ignore any of that. A horse, that guy is crazier than I am. Hold Person from Oath of Conquest lets you paralyze a target for up to 1 minute on concentration or if they succeed a saving throw. Immobilize them and then finish them off, while they watch hopelessly. That’s true fun!

WHILE THIS IS INDEED A GOOD SPELL, SINCE IT IS ON MY LIST TOO, I HAVE A BETTER IDEA! MISTY STEP LETS YOU TELEPORT UP TO 30 FEET IN AN UNOCCUPIED SPACE YOU CAN SEE! YOU WANTED SUPER SPEED?! HERE!

Back to Warlock. 5th Level Warlock gains a new Eldritch Invocation - Eldritch Spear increases the range of your Eldritch Blast to 300 feet. We will swap it for something more climactic next time we take the Invocations. You get access to 3rd Level Spells. Fly. Grab Fly. You are Supergirl and Supergirls just fly. It's a concentration spell and lasts up to 10 minutes, gives you a flying speed of 60 feet.

Weird, I was expecting to have this strange interruption here. Maybe they’re gone? I hope so.

6th Level Warlock gets otherworld Patron Feature and a new Spell. 

Celestial Warlock gains Radiant Soul - resistance to radiant damage and adds their Charisma modifier to spells that deal flame and radiant damage, which we have a lot. For a spell pick Counterspell, which lets you as a reaction interrupt one spell of level 3rd or less and if you want to stop a higher-level spell you need to pass a Charisma check at DC 10+Spell Level

Great Old One Warlock meanwhile gets Entropic Ward, which once per long or short rest lets you impose a disadvantage on an attack against you and until the end of your next turn grants you an advantage on the next attack against them if they miss. For bonus points be a meanie and say “look what you made me do” when you use it. For a spell, Fear is a Concentation one, that forces a Wisdom saving throw on each creature in a 30-foot cone. On failed save, they’re frightened and up for 1 minute or until you break concentration must take Dash action to get away from you and can only make another save once they no longer see you.

FIEND WARLOCK GAINS DARK ONE’S OWN LUCK! ONCE EVERY LONG OR SHORT REST YOU CAN CHOOSE TO ROLL A 1D10 AND ADD THE RESULT TO AN ABILITY CHECK OR A SAVING THROW. AND FOR THE SPELL CHOOSE FIREBALL. IT LETS YOU HURL A FIREBALL AT ANY POINT YOU CAN SEE AND THEN EVERYTHING WITHIN 20-FEET RADIUS GETS HIT BY AN EXPLOSION OF FIRE THAT DEALS 8D6 FIRE DAMAGE, HALF ON A SUCCESSFUL DEXTERITY SAVE! HIGHER LEVELS FROM WHICH YOU CAST? MORE D6S, 1 PER EACH! GREATEST SPELL IN THIS STUPID GAME! DO NOT LISTEN TO THESE FOOLS! THEY’LL TRY TO TELL YOU THERE IS MORE TO MAGIC THAN A FIREBALL! TO WHICH I SAY, BRAVE WORDS FOR SOMEONE WITHIN THE FIREBALL RANGE!

7th Level Warlock gets to pick another Eldritch Invocation and we can change our Eldritch Spear to another one, since there are two 7th level ones we want. Ghostly Gaze lets you once per short or long rest see through solid objects, it is a concentration effect. Trickster's Escape allows you to cast Freedom of Movement on yourself without expending a spell slot once per long rest. For 1 hour, no concentration, you or another creature ignores different terrain, no magical effects can reduce your speed, you cannot be paralyzed or restrained by magic and you can escape nonmagical restraints by spending 5 feet of movement and underwater you are not impaired when moving or fighting underwater.

ALTERNATIVE: New Warlock Eldritch Invocation from Unearthed Arcana, Investment of the Chain Master, allows you to sacrifice some of your own power and instead have Streaky the Supercat be an actual cat - when you cast Find Familiar you can grant the familiar flying or swimming speed of 40 feet, removes its need to breathe, makes their attack be treated as magical weapons and lets you substitute your Spell Save Difficulty instead of theirs whenever they force a creature to make a saving throw.

8th level Warlock gets Ability Score Improvement, increase your Charisma.

On both 7th and 8th levels you gain two new Spells and access to 4th level spells.

Elemental Bane forces a Constitution saving throw on a target and if they fail up to 1 minute they lose resistance they had to a chosen type of damage, say fire, and take an extra 2d6 of damage whenever they’re taking that type of damage. Sadly it is concentration.

Wall of Fire is also Concentration, it creates a 60 feet long, 20 feet high ad1 feet thick wall or a 20 feet in diameter, 20 feet high, 1 feet thick ring of fire, dealing 5d8 fire damage to all creatures within the area, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw, and any creature that ends its turn within 10 feet on the side of the wall you choose takes 5d8 fire damage, with no save. It’s a bonus spell from Celestial...

..AND FIEND WARLOCK! THESE ARE GOOD SPELLS, I SHALL STICK TO THEM!

Well, I will not. Forget these two, let’s make something more...creative.

Blight kills the moisture within the target, dealing 8d8 necrotic damage, half on a succesfull Constitution save.

Evard’s Black Tentacles turn a 20-foot square you can see into a difficult terrain and any creature that starts or finishes its turn on it must succeed a Dexterity saving throw or take 3d6 bludgeoning damage and be restrained. If it already is restrained it doesn’t get the save, just the damage. On concentration, spell lasts up to 1 minute. How do you explain this one? Your Supergirl is just so twisted, of course! It doesn’t make sense but...does it need to?

How Supergirl probably looks casting Wall of Fire...or any fire-based spell we gave her

Back to Paladin for the rest of the build. 6th level Paladin gets Aura of Protection - as long as you’re conscious you and your allies within 10 feet add your Charisma modifier to their saving throws.

At 7th level you get a new Spell, Aid lets you choose 3 friendly creatures within 30 feet and strengthen their resolve, granting them 5 extra hit points for the next 8 hours + 5 more per each higher level of the spell you cast this from. No concentration and hit points can get over their maximum number, meaning you can cast this before combat.

You also gain Sacred Oath Feature

Mighty Deed is Oath of Heroism feature that you can use once per turn whenever you score a critical hit or reduce a creature to a 0 hit points, you can choose a number of creatures you can see up to your Charisma modifier. You can either decide to restore 1d6+your Charisma modifier of their health points or force them to succeed a Wisdom saving throw or be frightened of you until the start of your next turn.

I can do it better. Oath of Conquest’s Aura of Conquest that extends 10 feet from you and makes it that every creature that is frightened of you within the aura, their speed is reduced to 0 and every time they start their turn within the aura, they take psychic damage equal to half your Paladin level.

OATH OF VENGEANCE MAKES YOU THE RELENTLESS AVENGER! YOU CAN NOW MOVE TO INTERCEPT THE GUILTY’S ESCAPE! WHEN YOU HIT A CREATURE WITH OPPORTUNITY ATTACK, YOU CAN MOVE UP TO HALF OF YOUR SPEED AS A PART OF THE SAME REACTION AND WITHOUT PROVOKING OPPORTUNITY ATTACKS YOURSELF!

9th Level Paladin gains access to 3rd level spells. Oath of Heroism AND OATH OF VENGEANCE gains you two following spells

Haste lets you choose yourself or a creature you can see within the range. Up to 1 minute, requiring Concentration to maintain, the spell doubles the target’s speed, grants +2 to AC, advantage on Dexterity saving throws and a bonus action that can be used to make an extra attack action, dash, disengage, hide or use object. When the spell ends, the target cannot take any actions for a turn.

Protection from Energy is a Concentration spell up to 1 hour of duration, granting resistance to acid, cold, fire, lightning or thunder damage.

Yeah, Oath of Conquest doesn’t get these two. We’ll pick Bestow Curse, another of the Concentration spells lasting up to 1 minuter or until a Remove Curse is cast. The target must succeed a Wisdom saving throw or have to suffer one of the effects: disadvantages on all saving throws or ability checks of chosen ability score, disadvantage on attack rolls against you, being dealt extra 1d8 necrotic damage from all your attacks and spells or having to succeed a Wisdom saving throw at the beginning of its every turn or be forced to waste it doing nothing.

Blinding Smite is another Smite on Concentration spell that you cast and it works with your next attack within 1 minute, dealing extra 2d8 radiant damage and forcing a Constitution Saving Throw or be blinded until the rest of that 1 minute duration.

10th Level Paladin gets Aura of Courage, making you and friendly creatures with 10 feet of you immune to being frightened as long as you’re conscious.

11th Level Paladin gets improved Divine Smite, dealing extra 1d8 radiant Damage on using a Smite. You also get one more spell slot so grab an additional Spell - Crusader’s Mantle. Another Concentration, up to 1 minute, it makes you radiate an aura that boosters the courage of your allies, making them and you deal 1d4 additional radiant damage on all weapon attacks.

Our Capstone is 12th Level Paladin and an Ability Score improvement. You should have maxed your Charisma by now, so boost Strength.

So here we are at the end, with a Celestial Pact Warlock 8/Oath of Heroism Paladin 12. Let’s see how valid this build is. First of all, you have multiple ways to deal with additional damage and it is damage of various types, so you are always prepared and Warlock Spell Slots can be burn for Smiting and be regained on short rest. Warlock Cantrips work well with a large number of Concentration-requiring spells, meaning you aren’t reduced to just punching things while maintaining effects of your spell. You’re also very mobile, having multiple abilities to ensure you will not be impaired on the battlefield. Finally, you have multiple means to revigorate your allies in combat, meaning you can be the inspiring hero whose heroism and smile often let your friends gain the second wind in time of need.

On the downsides, your base damage is 1d4, we didn’t max Strength, meaning you kinda relly on your Smiting and extra damage. While you should have a decent amount of Hit Points, you didn’t max your Constitution and many of your spells require concentration, meaning you often may have it broken and that you have to choose which of Supergirl powers you need at the time. Your number of spell slots is also limited and even with Warlock Slots, there will be the times you will just burn out of them with your reliance on Smite. Finally, while you have a variety of damage types to deal, the majority of them is Fire and Radiant, meaning you will run into enemies that have resistance or outright immunity. And sadly our ability to use Cold Breath is limited and mostly relies on low-level spells.

THIS IS AN EVEN BIGGER PROBLEM WITH MY BUILD! TOO MANY FOOLS THINK THEY CAN HIDE FROM EVERBURNING FIRE!

My build meanwhile is more...controlling. You can multiple abilities to mess with your enemies’ minds, threaten or incapacitate them. You will control the battlefield and sow fear and terror among your enemies...or should I say, victims? Sadly, these abilities grant Wisdom saving throws. So stay away from antagonizing Druids and Monks, they’re no fun anyway.

Overall Supergirl is a strong and surprisingly versatile ally that will make a great addition to many teams. Just remember you cannot save the world alone and get yourself some good allies before you go to save the day.

For example. D&D can make that team actually come true.

ALTERNATIVE:  Since a new Unearthed Arcana came up with an option for Paladin to pick Unarmed Fighting Combat Style, here is a quick guide how to run Kara using it:

When you take your first level of Paladin, Pick Unarmed Fighting. it makes your fists deal 1d6+ your Strength modifier in damage and if you use both hands to fight it changes to 1d8+STR modifier. In addition, whenever you successfully grapple a creature you can deal it 1d4 damage and later whenever you deal damage to a grappled creature, you can add a 1d4 to the roll.

On 4th level replace Tavern Brawler with War Caster, which lets you make Concentration rolls with an advantage and allows to cast spells even when you’re holding something in both hands, like a weapon.  

Spend the rest of your Ability Score improvements increasing Strength and Charisma so that you round them up.

As a result, Kara will be squishier and have worse Concentration checks but she should mitigate the latter with an advantage on those checks and what she loses in defense she gains in the offense.

You have any criticism or advice? Share it and be sure to check the masterpost for my other Builds.

- Admin

[snowdice]

You I’ll Come Back For (Part 3)[Dice Roll 5]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Virgil, Logan/Deceit/Roman (more background)

Characters:

Main: Patton, Virgil

Appear: Roman, Logan, Deceit, Remus

Summary: They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.

He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

Universe: Cops and Criminals AU

Genre: Crime

Notes: Murder mentioned, gun mentioned.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

Part 1  Part 2

It had been about a month since the kiss that very much, very definitely should absolutely not have happened, and god was Patton having a hard time not thinking about it.

It was quite the moral dilemma wasn’t it? Virgil was a convicted felon on the run from the law and Patton was a police officer trying to catch him. Yet, he’d forgotten that in the moment. He’d forgotten what type of person Virgil was and everything he’d done. It made Patton feel guilty. He could barely even meet his boss, Logan’s eyes.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think about the man’s lips on his or how gentle his hand had been in Patton’s hair. The low tone of his voice when he’d uttered the words “you I am coming back for,” haunted his dreams and definitely not the nightmare kind.

However, right now was not the time to be thinking about dark, dangerous eyes that softened inexplicably on Patton or the contrast of the feeling of warm lips on his to the cool handcuffs on his wrists. He was at work, mostly alone at the moment since everyone was either out getting lunch or on their way to go get lunch. Patton was supposed to be filling out a report, not daydreaming. He frowned at it. He really didn’t like paperwork.

He looked up from the paperwork, happy to completely forget its existence, when a man marched into the office as if he owned the place. He was wearing a business suit with a yellow tie and had a scar across half his face. He also looked like he not only could kill a man, but was planning on doing so forthwith.

“Um, excuse me sir,” Patton said in his most sweetly placating voice. “Can I help you.”

“No.”

“Uh, I’m sorry sir, but this is a police station,” Patton said, keeping a smile on his face. “If you-”

“Dee!” Roman’s jovial voice said. He all but bolted across the office with his arms open as though to hug the grumpy man. ‘Dee’ put up a hand to stop him.

“This is not a social call. Where is Berry?”

Roman blinked. “We’re using last names today?” he asked. “Must be serious.”

“Roman,” the man warned.

“Chill,” Roman instructed and that was not the tone Patton would have used to attempt to calm the irritated man, but Dee didn’t immediately snap Roman’s neck so that was good, “we just went out for lunch and he went to park the car. He’ll be right behind me. Everything okay?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

Roman put a hand on his shoulder, but then his thumb wandered, tracing softly across his collarbone. Patton raised an eyebrow. “Can I help?” he asked in a soothing tone.

The man batted his hand away. “Don’t do that.”

Roman’s frown almost edged on a pout. “Why not?”

“Because you are about to be so mad at me,” Dee spat.

Roman’s brow crinkled. “Why would I ever be mad at you, dear?” he asked fluttering his eyelashes.

“Stop it,” Dee complained, his face softening just a bit despite the harshness to his words, “stop that. If you actually want to be useful, find Patton Heart and have him wait outside of Logan’s office for us.”

“Um, I’m Patton actually,” Patton interjected with a little wave.

His eyes flicked up and down Patton. “Of course, you are.”

It was then that Logan entered the room, stripping off his coat as he went. He paused when he saw Dee with a slight frown. “Dee, what are you doing here?” Logan asked.

“I need to speak with you. In your office. Now.”

Logan bristled and crossed his arms. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to appreciate what I have to say either,” Dee replied and then swept past him.

Logan gave Roman a questioning look. Roman just shrugged and Logan turned on his heels to follow Dee into his office with clipped footsteps.

“Um Roman,” Patton said when the door snapped shut behind them, “Who was that?”

“That was Dee,” Roman said, staring at the door in confusion. They could see the two men talking through the window in the door but couldn’t hear them. “He’s our husband.”

“He’s your other husband?” Patton asked. He knew of course about the illusive third man who was always out of town or busy, but the way they’d always talked about him made him seem… not that. “He seems…” Patton said.

“He’s not usually that grumpy,” Roman said and then paused in thought. “Okay, maybe he sort of is, but he has to spend most of time with my brother so it’s understandable. He’s definitely usually not that short with Logan or I though, so I don’t know what’s going on.”

It was then that the voices behind the door picked up a bit. First it was Logan’s voice, still just a bit too low to hear anything but the angry tone. Then…

“If you think that just because we’re married, I have to tell you everything I do at work, you are sorely mistaken!” Dee screamed.

“No! But you do have to tell me if it impacts my life!”

“Well dinner tonight’s gonna be fun…” Roman mumbled under his breath.

They continued to argue for a few more minutes; Patton and Roman could hear just bits of screaming every so often but nothing to give them a clue about what on Earth was going on.

Eventually Dee strutted out of the office, still clearly fuming, Logan hot on his heels. He didn’t even spare them a glance as he walked down the hallway.

Logan pressed his lips together, staring at his back with narrowed eyes before saying, “you two come too,” and taking off after him. Patton shared a glance with Roman before they followed after them.

They walked down the hall to some meeting room Patton had never been in before. Both Roman and Patton got to the open door at the same time and looked in. Dee was standing calmly with his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall and Logan was glaring at him from a few feet away. Yet neither of them is what took either Patton or Roman’s attention. No, their attention was taken by the man standing by the window. He wore a dark black hoody and his hair was slightly mussed probably from him wearing the hood. His hands were stuck casually in the hoody pocket and he gave Patton an awkward half smile.

“Hey,” Virgil said. Roman was immediately reaching for his gun. “Calm down Romano, I work for your husband.”

Roman rounded on Dee immediately. “He what?!”

“Yeah, yeah I know I’m sleeping on the couch,” Dee grumbled.

“On the porch more like,” Logan hissed.

“…Yep.”

“Thanks Dee,” Virgil said without looking at him.

“What can I say?” he grumbled, glancing at Logan, “I’m a romantic.” Logan responded with an even more intense glare in his direction.

Patton looked at Virgil and tapped his lips with a curious head tilt. Virgil immediately shook his head fervently. Patton nodded.

“And what exactly was that?” Logan asked suspiciously looking between them.

“Nothing,” they both said together.

Dee scoffed rolled his eyes. “He’s an undercover cop,” Dee told Patton. “Have fun with whatever that is. I’m going to go find a good divorce attorney.” He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and strode out of the room.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily,” Logan called after him. He turned back to Patton. “I am aware of Dee’s career so I can confirm this information.”

“You’re a cop?” Patton asked Virgil.

“I am,” he said.

“You’re not a murderer or torturer or drug dealer or anything else you were convicted for.”

“Nope,” he replied. “It was all a cover.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I’m not as bad of a judge of character as I thought then.”

“Again,” Logan said suspiciously, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“Come on, Lo,” Roman said. “Let’s make sure our husband knows he doesn’t actually need an attorney.” Logan mumbled something about ‘Last Will and Testament’ under his breath, but Roman just rolled his eyes and pulled him from the room.

Patton looked back at Virgil. “So, this is what you meant about coming back for me?” he asked.

“Yeah it is.”

“Oh,” he replied, biting his lips. He thought for a moment and then laughed. “Goodness, I got in your way a lot, didn’t I?”

“You were an actual thorn in my side,” Virgil confirmed with a chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Eh don’t be. It’s just ‘cause you’re a good cop.”

“And you’re a good undercover cop,” Patton complimented rolling up onto his toes with his hands clasped behind his back. “It never even crossed my mind.”

He blushed and goodness that was adorable. Who knew he was adorable? “Yeah except for, you know, all of the arrests.”

“There were a lot of arrests,” Patton laughed.

“So. Many. Arrests,” Virgil replied. They smiled at each other. “Anyway.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly. “Your boss is busy either murdering or having makeup sex with my boss. So… do you want to get out of here?”

Patton grinned. “Sure,” he replied. Virgil offered his arm and Patton took it.

Thanks for reading!

If you were intrigued by the dynamic of Roman, Deceit, and Logan, I do have a fic set in this universe about how Roman met both Deceit and Logan called  Mistaken Identities.