#but i don't wanna have to change my writing tag so it stays ig

[barbiecrocs]

Serial.

Michael Myers

What seems to be the unluckiest day you've ever had is also the most enjoyable.

tags- fem!reader, horror, soft gore, breaking and entering, size difference if you squint, rough sex, blood, piv, monster fucking (just bc this man is monstrous), dumbification, hair pulling, 90s ig, the mask stays on during sex. WC. 3861

Barbie's note... can't believe I used to be on my knees for this man. Like I used to be in the trenches frfr but if yall like him enjoy. after all I did write it to be read. I might go back into hibernation btw.

 The storm that brought your birthday party to an early end sends most of your friends home for the night. The bipolar winds knock leftover party cups and plates into the pool. The storm seems to be having a party of its own in your backyard. It practically plucks your backyard apart bit by bit. You raise your hands to your temples and rub them in stress. The only thing you could do was sit on the sidelines and watch.

 "Sigh, the sound of rain is so therapeutic…Too bad the storm is destroying your backyard. This is not a pretty sight." You hear an oncoming voice say.

 "Kate, you shouldn't be so relaxed. You have no ride home now. You should've gone home with your sister and the others. It's raining cats and dogs now." You complain and look over to Kate, noticing her outfit.  "Did you get that from my closet? You took my whole ‘My Melody’ set! Even the slippers! I only have one set! The rest are just shirts! I was going to wear that after my shower!" Your eyebrows furrow in distaste for her stealing one of your favorite pajama sets. She could've at least asked right? Man, you really have to kick her out. You roll your eyes.

 "Jeez, take a chill pill, don't get your panties in a twist. I wanted to leave, but I guess I took too long to take a shower and get changed out of my swimsuit, so they left without me. She told me that she was going to come back after dropping everyone else off." She starts to tap on the glass with her acrylic nails as her eyes flicker back and forth between you and the glass. "That doesn’t make any sense, she’d just be wasting more gas and my time.” You roll your eyes. “Jeez, no need to be in such a time crunch, your bed isn’t going anywhere, anywhere far at least,” Kate says. ‘Ugh! So insensitive at all times.’ You think. “You know Kate, I had other things planned tonight!" You huff.

 "Ooh? What did you have planned that was so important? It’s almost midnight-. Oh. OOOH? Is it what I think it is? Were you and Miles going to fuck? Is that why you’ve been hanging by your phone so much?” She says, continuously poking your arm. Your cheeks run hot as she continues to press you with flustering questions. “Maybe that’s why you’ve had such a stick up your ass because you’ve been waiting for him to stick something up there. Are you keeping it ready for him huh? It’ll slip in nice and easy-.” “KATE!” You interrupt, practically steaming with embarrassment and shyness. “What?” She snickers. “Did I hit the bullseye?” “Just… Just shut up!” You stomp. “Fine. Fine. You wanna take another dip in the pool to cool down? Or perhaps the rain, does that sound like fun? Becoming one with the rain. It sounds lovely, an absolute dream." She smirks, unlocking the backdoor. 

 "No, no it doesn't sound like a dream. It's a hot summer night turned lukewarm and I bet the rain is uncomfortably warm too-" "Come on!" She interrupts, yanking you outside so hard that you topple over, good thing you were still in your swimsuit. Can’t say the same for Kate though. 

 She starts to skip around the pool playfully as if the rain was nonexistent. "Kate, ugh! You little shit, you're lucky I'm still wearing my bathing suit! Plus, you're getting my clothes wet! What was even the point of taking a shower if you were going to go back outside? Sigh You know what? You should stay outside and really be one with the rain. Have fun!" You shut the door as she runs over, slipping on the wet pavement.

 "Hey! Don’t leave me out here! Come on, it was just an impulsive decision. I was just having fun since the party was ruined! Loosen up a bit!" She yells, muffled through the thick glass of the backdoor. You put your fingers in your ears and pretend like you can’t hear her. She’ll be fine, the rain was warm, plus there’s a patio set with a waterproof hood so she doesn’t have to stay in the rain.

 'Great, now I have a mixture of chlorine and rainwater on me.' As you walk inside the house you notice that you left the TV on and overhear it from your open kitchen.

 *T.V static* "Emergency news coming to you live from Los Angeles, California. The news channel where we relay urgent news in under five minutes!" Reporter Nancy says while thrusting her hand in the air to represent the number five. "Nancy, stop, this is serious news. We are here to relay information about a serial killer sneaking into backyards and killing residents living there. Numerous calls were made to the emergency hotline, 911, saying that there was someone in their house or giving us details on what the deranged man looked like. He stands somewhere around 6'7 and wears a dark blue jumpsuit. He wears a mask that hollows his eyes and he has brown hair-"

 The TV suddenly cuts off as if it was unplugged, yet everything looks in check. It wasn't unplugged, the TV isn't smoking like it's broken, the power is fine, and it's not like you turned it off manually or remotely. 

'Wow, it's the first time I actually sit down to watch the news and the TV decides to cut off.' You think.

 You bang on the TV in hopes that it'll cut back on, but no luck. "Ugh, old ass T.V.! I told mama that she should've gotten a new one! This shit is so outdated. We have had this since I was ten! That's a decade!" You pout. 

 You look out the glass backdoor and see Kate, happy as ever, texting someone on a huge duck floatie in the pool with little to no rain outside now. Like what the hell? It was just raining. You unlock the sliding door and call out to her. "Hey, Kate. You should come inside now. It would be a hassle for your sister to drive back over here. You should spend the night." You say, cursing yourself for your generosity. "Really? Now you want me to come in? I'm good. There's no need to be so concerned. We're on private property. No one else can enter without permission, that's illegal. Plus, the rain is warm just like you predicted. She should be fine while driving, seriously. I'll just wait until my sister picks me up. You act like I'm ten years old. I don't need supervision." She rolls her eyes.

 You return the same energy with an eye roll. "So naive, your funeral… Just know that I will be locking the door." You mumble and pull in the curtains. If she doesn't care about her safety then neither will you. Your objective was to take a shower, not look after her anyway.

  In the middle of your shower, you hear the house phone ring. You let it ring for a while before realizing that Kate can’t answer the phone for you. With a long sigh, you rinse off, grab a towel, and head to your room, wanting to put some clothes on before going downstairs. You throw on a Kuromi pajama shirt paired with loose black shorts and head downstairs.

 'Was Kate expecting a call? Maybe it’s Kate’s sister and she’s here to pick her up. Maybe it’s Miles? We were supposed to fuck for my birthday tonight.’ You skip down the stairs, hoping that it was the latter, and pick up the cream-colored phone just to hear heavy breathing on the other side. 'What the hell?' You think. 

 As you're about to hang up your movement is forcefully put to a stop. You feel your heart sink as a painful throb begins to travel up your arm, making you drop the phone on the table. You fully tune into this sound as if nothing else around you matters. It’s so loud in your head even though the phone is no longer in your ears. Every nerve inside your body is tense and telling you to hang up, but the breathing is so captivating, trance-like if you will. Listening to the sweet sound as if it was someone humming your favorite tune or singing a soft lullaby. It's so alluring, arousing almost. It mentally sucks you in and the noise alone brings a physical warmth to your skin, supplying false comfort like a hug. It takes away the pain in your arm just as fast as it gave it. As you listen for longer you start to notice the raspiness in the voice. This wasn't like a white noise machine or a random audio on loop. There was someone behind it. In and out, in and out, in and… 

Suddenly, you hear Kate scream bloody murder and you snap out of your trance, unplugging the phone and rushing toward the back door. Yanking the curtains open and analyzing the pool from inside, the scene that is held in your eyes is mortifying.

 Kate lays there on her back, lifeless in a puddle of her blood on the rubber duck floatie. Her hair is a mess and you can see signs of a struggle on her body. The stressed clothing, choke marks, and some of her fake nails are broken off, leaving her fingernails bloody. Her phone is no longer in her hand, but slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool. Heh, it looks like it still works, the screen is on. Blood flows out of the stab wounds on her throat and chest as the light rain continuously tries to wash them away.

 Your eyes frantically scan the pool area for the culprit. And somewhere in the darkness that is the other side of the pool, you see a tall figure step forward, making you jump back from the glass.

 A man in a dark blue bloodied jumpsuit, standing around 6'6 - 6'7, wearing a mask with brown hair. Just seeing this man triggers something in you, as you've unlocked a memory. Have you seen him before? No way, that can't be possible, there's no way that you've seen him and not run away screaming. Then it finally clicks. He was the murderer that was described on TV. He fits the description perfectly. The mask, hair, height, the only thing the description was missing was the blood.

 Goosebumps tatted your skin as you begin to panic. You hold still in hopes that he has bad eyesight or somehow can't see you through the clear glass door, as if that's possible. He remains completely still and at some point, you wonder if he really can't see you. Maybe the mask messes with his vision?

 Suddenly, he starts to make his way around the pool and so you run into the living room to dig in the couch cushions for your mom's pistol that she keeps for "unexpected guests". 

 You hurriedly load the gun and speed back to your place, tripping over a bunched-up rug. You tip back and fall flat on your butt and point the gun in his direction, waiting for him to round the corner. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline and your nerves are high. At this point, you're hyper-aware of everything happening to you. Blood is coursing through your body from head to toe because of this intense situation and yet… you feel a second heartbeat, this one wasn't in your chest, it was between your legs. Why was your body doing this?

 Was this turning you on? You feel obloquy and disappointment fill your heart as you think about such taboo and shameful things. Many thoughts swarm your mind, but everything is put on hold as he rounds the corner.

 He stands in front of you, only the glass door standing between you both, but it isn't long before he busts through it. Glass comes shooting your way and you shut your eyes and cover your face in defense, not realizing that you dropped the gun. You were too late to protect yourself properly and tiny shards of glass grazed your skin. Some cuts are a little deeper than others, but the overall damage was minimal. Luckily, due to the adrenaline, you couldn't feel the pain.

 You open your eyes when you realize that the gun is no longer in your hand. You look around on the floor until you notice unfamiliar shoes planted right in front of you and snap your head up just to see his dark, hollow, eyes staring at you. 

 In a panicked rush, you continue to search for the gun you dropped, trying to keep your eyes on him. Patting the area down like a dumbass, you still couldn't find it. Only for a split second you look away and grab it, but a large hand roughly grabs you by the neck and the other snatches the gun away, throwing it somewhere towards the stairs. Your hands' fling onto the hand choking you, attempting to tear him off of you. No avail, his grip was firm and you were slowly, but surely losing air.

 He lifted you with ease and put your back to the other glass door that wasn't broken. Trying to cause as much of a hassle as you can, you thrash around, kicking and punching, but it wasn't doing anything to his firm body. 'What is this guy made of?'.

You start to feel hot tears prickle in your eyes and your face feels like someone is sticking pins and needles in it. Heat piles in your chest and your heart starts to beat slower and slower. After what seems like a lifetime of flopping around, you finally land a good kick to his stomach. His grip softens on your neck and you loudly gasp for air, coughing up a storm as spit lulls out your mouth and down your chin.

 All too quickly, he grabs your legs and wraps them around his hips to stop you, putting you both in a rather intimate position. With you being pinned to the glass, you stop resisting and catch your breath. 

 As you calm down, you notice just how close he is, how you can practically feel his heart beating through his chest, how his leg is tucked snuggly between your thighs, and all of a sudden your feet can’t touch the floor. The mood between you two was shifting from panicked to steamy. You felt ashamed of yourself for thinking in such a way. You could die right now, but all you could think about was how big and warm his hands were around your neck. You could no longer find it in yourself to even look in his direction. But your surroundings are all too familiar, nothing else besides him can keep your attention.  

 His grip tightens on your thighs as he leans into you. With closing distance, the more you can feel his clothed length slowly push against your thin shorts, twitching and aching to be sheathed in your now soaking, cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck and shut your eyes as you wait for him to plant a kiss on your lips. Instead, you feel surprisingly warm kisses along your jawline to your neck. His lips find your sweet spot, making you jolt in pleasure. As he starts attacking your neck with hickeys and bites. You feel a cold hand travel from one of your thighs to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on the fabric, signaling that he wants it off. “Go ahead.” You say, layering your hand on his as he slips your shirt off. Squeezing one of your boobs with the other hand. 

 Your naked back forcefully pushes up against the cold glass and it isn’t long before a cold shiver rushes up your spine, making your back arch fiercely. “Ah, c-cold!” You hiss. He looks around and spots a comfy couch in the living room, covered in fuzzy throw-over blankets that were used for cold movie nights. He throws you over his shoulder and then plops you onto the couch, his hands immediately moving around your waist and snaking up to your chest. He takes a second to admire the naked flesh in his hands, kneading and kissing it. He’s never felt something so soft and smooth in his life. Considering that his life was a very hard one, this felt like heaven on Earth. 

 You wrap your legs around his waist and pull it closer to your clothed entrance. His fingers loop around your panties and drag them down, swiftly. A string of shlick leading from your pussy to the wet spot on your panties. He brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs them, making your cheeks run hot with a blush. “Perv!” You beat at his chest. 

 He takes off his jumpsuit as he stares down at you. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, dark eyes, and abs sculpted by the gods intimidating and turning you on simultaneously. He continues undressing and pulls his boxers a little bit lower than his thighs. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull from how big his dick is. Yet it fits in his hand perfectly. 

 He gives it a few long strokes before lining himself up at your entrance, raising your hips to level with his tip. “W-wait. I don't think it’ll fit.” You whimper, trying to close your legs, but are blocked by his waist. He stands still for a second, thinking about what to say. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders considering that he doesn’t talk much. He prods his tip at your entrance and slowly sheths himself mostly inside you, letting out a deep guttural groan. Your arms subconsciously try to claw at his back, but can’t wrap around it, clawing on his shoulders at best. “FUCK!” You scream, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “You’re too big.”

 You lay on your back, trying not to move an inch, scared that he might rip you in half just from it being inside you. He puts a calloused hand on your cheek and wipes your tears, trying to soothe you the best he can without words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten when you feel him push in more. “Wait!” You weakly move a hand to his chest. “Stay still for a moment. It stings so bad.” You throw your head back onto the armrest of the couch as you bite your lip in pain, almost drawing blood.

 After what seems like an eternity the pain is finally gone and now you can enjoy the dicking that you were supposed to get from Miles. You wonder what happened to him. Maybe he canceled without telling you. ‘Ugh, dickhead! Ghosting me on my birthday?’  You brush off that thought and tell him you’re fine now. He pulls out halfway and slowly thrusts back in, making you feel every inch of him. Your whole body quivers from how deep he was inside you, plunging farther than your fingers ever could. “Oh fuck!” You claw. He starts to pick up the pace, with each thrust fucking you further into dumbification.

 You practically scream when he starts pounding your g-spot, making you breathless. “So good!!~” You hiccup, trying to focus on not being fucked dumb. So much that you didn't realize him switching positions.

 Suddenly, your stomach is pressed against the back of your brown corduroy sofa as your knees dig into the pillows and cushions beneath you. He stands tall, towering over you from the back with one hand tangled in your hair. His free hand returns to one of your hips and he pulls them closer to his length, lining himself up again. He wastes not even a second going slow this time. He thrusts into you, immediately finding your G-spot and pounding it. The position does wonders for you as his balls repeatedly smack against your clit, making your back arch immensely. That’s it. That was your last straw before turning dumb. Your nails dig into the couch and your tongue hangs out your mouth, trickling drool. He lets out a deep groan when he feels your walls squeeze around his dick and suck him in, signaling that you were close to cumming. 

 A familiar heat starts to spread over your body and it isn’t long before your walls go from squeezing to trembling. “Fuck, Fuck FUCK!!” You thought you screamed, but to him, it just seemed like fucked out babbling. Your pussy gushes around him, triggering his orgasm. He fucks both of you through it, almost to the point of overstimulation. He finally pulls out, allowing all the cum and shlick to ooze out of you. Both of you watch as it drips onto the blanket below you, making you giggle. “Heh, oopsie.” You babble, still fucked out.

 Your tiredness catches up with you and you fall limp on the couch, rocking in and out of consciousness. He picks you up and searches the house for a bathroom. He starts to run the water and steps out for a minute. The sound of running water and a loud thud from the living room snaps you out of your unconscious state. ‘W-what the fuck?’ You stand up on wobbly legs and head out of the bathroom, finding out that he put you in the downstairs one. You feel a cold gust of wind and look towards the front door. It’s open with the man that was just balls deep inside of you standing hunched over. You have a bit of trouble walking over to him, but eventually, you make it. You try to find an opening to see what he was looking at since he’s too tall to look over. 

 You fall on your butt in horror when you realize that it’s Miles, dead and the fully clothed mysterious man was dragging him away. A puddle of dried blood on your porch gives away that he was dead for a while.

 “What. The. FUCK!” You had such a nice time with this man that you forgot he was a murderer. For heaven's sake, he killed your best friend Kate. “Who are you?” So many questions run through your head at the same time. ‘Why did he kill Miles?  When did he have time to kill Miles? Why didn’t he kill you too? How does he know about you?’ He throws Miles over his shoulder and turns back to you. It looks like he’s going to raise a hand at you, instead, he reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a gold name tag with the name ‘Micheal’ on it. He throws it into your lap and disappears into the darkness of the night. “What…What the fuck?”

[hyuncode]

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[doodamancy]

Note: Many thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this little series of drabbles so far! It’s time for some more pining wizards B)

No major warnings this time, though some serious questions of self-worth and self-doubt come up. Final thoughts & credits in the tags.

First | Previous | Next | Latest

—————

The following morning, after Caleb had finished copying down the surprisingly intricate web of magical runes for the spell Sending, the copper-haired human laid still in his bed, light filtering through his closed curtains and into the room to spill over his sheets. His bedroom was small, but comfortable—it had just enough space to fit his bed, a small desk, and a small bookshelf comfortably, leaving enough space to move freely without feeling too crowded or cluttered. Overtime, this may change—already, Caleb’s desk was starting to collect piles of scrolls, paper, books and other miscellaneous things—but, at least for now, it was organized. As he lay there, he idly pondered some guestimations for how long this may last—another week? Two? At the rate he had been working, well…

He let out a small laugh and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, mind then wandering to the previous night as his eyes fell onto the desk and the scroll he had copied carefully into his book. “Hm. I think, first order of business, Sending to Essek, yes?” he murmured to himself. He had been tempted to last night, but it was late and he did not wish to risk disturbing the other wizard from his Trance. No, much better to wait till it was a more reasonable time. Stretching a hand out as he turned to reach under his pillow, Caleb slid his spellbook toward himself from its night time resting place beneath his head. This, of course, was a habit borne from both a sense of paranoia and from being on the road for as long as he was. He could no longer sleep unless he felt the tome resting beneath his head and he didn’t have any strong desire to put his anxiety to rest on that particular matter. (He didn’t think he could, if he was honest with himself—not even he wanted to.)

Flipping open the book, he began to go through his usual morning ritual of preparing his spells for the day. He stood carefully and began to slowly pace along the pathway between the closet and his bedroom door as he did this, thumbing through the pages and lingering on the runes of each particular spell. Committing them to his near-perfect memory. He could probably recite the contents of his spellbook from end to end from heart, but that wasn’t necessary. This practice was less a matter of refreshing his mind and more an act of committing to a decision, and… well, maintaining a ritual, a habit. There was comfort in that routine.

Once he was done, Caleb closed his spellbook and set it on his desk, moving to his closet to prepare himself for the rest of the day. As he did, he pondered just what he wanted to say in his Sending to Essek. Only twenty five words was a restriction he had to abide by, but there was much he wanted to say to the drow. Perhaps… I should simply ask if he is available to meet sometime soon? Then I could Teleport him here, offer him something as an anchor. But what? he thought.

After slipping on clean pants and an undershirt, Caleb grabbed his book holsters and shrugged them on, eyes wandering about as he considered. Once the holsters were on, he picked up his spellbook and strapped it under his arm, all while racking his brain for something to give to Essek. It could be pretty much anything as long as the object had been taken from here, from amongst his possessions, but he also… It was Essek, and Caleb had a desire to find something special for him.

As Caleb mentally fumbled through various objects he had in his possession, he felt a familiar ping in the back of his mind as the wards set at his gate went off, alerting him to an approaching guest and cutting off his thoughts. Brows rising in surprise, he quickly turned his head in the direction of his door. “I wonder who…” he muttered absently, moving toward his bedroom door to make for the entryway to his home. As the wizard quietly padded through his hallway, a small streak of orange and white ran past his bare feet, meowing as it went. “Yes, yes—you’ll get your breakfast soon, little one,” he said, looking back to see his latest addition to the home, a young orange and white tabby he had found huddled under his porch the other day. She was probably barely a year old at the oldest and, at the time of being discovered, her long coat was matted and covered in burs from the nearby bushes and tall grasses. She looked considerably better now, after Caleb carefully cleaned and brushed her. She was surprisingly friendly, leading him to believe she had at one time lived with someone, though who would have left such a kitten outside to fend for itself in the bitter cold winter of Rexxentrum, Caleb had no idea.

She was warm and happy now, however. And also very vocal around feeding time. Bending to give her some scritches behind her ears, the red-haired human smiled.

“I must tend to some unexpected company first, though, alright?” Allowing her a moment to rub her furry cheeks into his palm and bunt into him, he sighed softly before rising back upright and making his way through the rest of the hallway into the living room where the front door awaited him. With nearly perfect timing, Caleb was less than ten feet from the door when he heard a familiar knock—five knocks in a particular cadence he had quickly become to associate with none other than his friend Beauregard. Apprehension he didn’t realize he held melted from him and he took in a deep breath before temporarily releasing the wards on his entrance with a flick of his wrist and opening the door, a slow smile curling his lips upward.

“Beauregard,” he said as a way of greeting. “Should have known it was you.”

Returning his smile with a crooked grin, the monk raised a hand in a casual wave. “Sup Caleb. I got some news you’ll wanna hear,” she said. Then, taking in his disheveled hair, quirked a brow. “You just getting up? It’s like, almost 11, dude.”

Chuckling, he offered a sheepish shrug and stepped aside to allow her entry. “I stayed up a little later than I usually do last night copying a new spell. Also, it’s not that late. It’s 9:47,” he said, giving Beau pause, her face contorted in a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“What, really? Holy shit.”

“Yes, really. But please, come inside before the cat gets out,” he said, amused.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” At that, she quickly shuffled inside and Caleb shut the door with a furtive glance behind him, making certain the cat in question was still safely indoors. As he did, he caught a glimpse of an expectant yellow-eyed gaze boring holes into him from the archway leading into his kitchen and his smile widened fondly at the sight. For Beau’s credit, she did not waste any time quietly approaching the creature, crouching as she came into arm’s length and extending a hand. “Hey, you—you look so much better now than when I saw you a couple days ago,” she cooed in a soft tone Caleb, when he had first met her, would never have imagined her capable of.

The ginger and white tabby flicked her tail, meowed, and scurried away to march into the kitchen where the food dish sat. “Wow, fuck you, too.” The surly pout in her voice and the immediate slump of her shoulders pulled a warm laugh from Caleb, earning him a glare from his dear friend. “Aw, fuck off, man.” When he simply grinned at her, Beauregard’s expression softened into a smirk and she pushed herself back up into a standing position.

“So, what brings you here again? You mentioned news, ja?” Caleb asked, grin subsiding into a more serious expression—one of genuine curiosity, though he tried not to seem too concerned or apprehensive as his mind wandered over the most likely topic of concern here. Trent Ikithon.

“Uh, yeah. Like I said, I thought you’d wanna hear this. But maybe we should sit down first?” The way her smirk faded from her expression and her tone shifted into something more careful and articulated spiked Caleb’s anxiety a little. Blue eyes darting about his living room, he lifted his hands to nervously wring at his wrists, resisting the sudden urge to scratch at the scars beneath his sleeves.

“Ah, yes… um. Let me just… feed the cat and put on some tea, I think,” he said, forcing his mind to focus on the two tasks he set before him. Quickly, he moved toward Beau to slip past her into the kitchen and breathed in deep through his nose.

“Yeah, of course, man. Let me help,” she said, following after him.

Caleb, for his part, did not argue, though there was some hesitance in his nod of acceptance. Beau was his guest and having her help with tea felt wrong, but he also didn’t feel in a position to insist on such pleasantries. Instead, he focused his attention on preparing some food for his insistent furry friend. As he focused on this task, she weaved through his legs, rubbing up against him meowing and chattering excitedly. It was more than enough to distract him from Beau’s own prepping of the kettle and rummaging through his cupboards for his stash of tea leaves.

As he knelt to set a small clean platter of food for the cat, he heard the monk behind him ask, “So, have you thought of a name for her yet?”

The platter barely clinked against the floor tiles before the cat was practically on top of it, stuffing her face between contented meows. Smiling at this, Caleb shook his head. “I haven’t settled on one just yet, no,” he said before turning around to look at the other. “I have some I’m considering, though.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Caleb slowly moved for the table at the other end of his kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit and look up at Beau. “Hm, Gerbera is one. Marigold or Marmalade also. I don’t know. What do you think?”

With a laugh, Beau pulled out a chair next to him and flopped down. “What do I think? Well, shit.” She looked over at the cat as she continued eating her breakfast, a hand rising to clutch her chin in thought. “Copernicus. Or, Mrs. Nezbit. That one’s good.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, considering. “Charles Wallace? Mabel? What about Sausage? Or, ooh, Bacon! Remember, I helped lure her out from under the porch with my pocket bacon—”

 As Beau continued, Caleb’s expression shifted from one of consideration to confusion to exasperation, a hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Ah, yes, thank you, Beauregard, for your—” He cut himself off, struggling to find an appropriate word to describe her input. “Contributions. I will think more on this.”

“Hey, man, you asked for my suggestions,” she said, turning back to face him in her seat.

“…I did, yes,” Caleb relented with a sigh.

With a roll of her eyes, she shifted in her seat and rolled her shoulders a bit. “Alright, well. About that news.” Her gaze dropped briefly to her lap, one foot propped up on the seat of the chair by her heel as she leaned forward against her thigh. “I’m sure you probably guessed it was about Ikithon. The Cobalt Soul’s uncovered more evidence against him recently, so between yours, Astrid’s, and Eadwulf’s testimony and this new evidence… We got a pretty sizable case against him. Things will be moving forward pretty rapidly from here.” She paused then to meet his gaze as her words slowly cycled through his brain and he processed the information.

“That’s…” Slowly, Caleb leaned back into his chair and took in a deep breath, holding it a moment, before releasing it slowly through his nostrils. With it, some of his earlier tension left him, but he could not let go of all of it. He still felt some apprehension, there was still some part of him that feared the worst against all odds. “Gut. Good, that’s… good. Right?”

A half smile briefly flashed over Beau’s features, empathetic and understanding of her friend’s current struggle. “Yeah. Yeah, man, it’s very good,” she said. Then, dropping her propped foot to the floor, she furrowed her brows as she contemplated her next words, forearms coming to rest on her knees and her hands loosely clasped together. “I just… I wanted to check in with you before we move on to the next stage. I know you said you’re willing to testify, but I want you to know you don’t have to. We have everything we need to put this asshole away. I already talked to Astrid and Eadwulf about this, admittedly because I knew you’d ask—” True to her expectations, Caleb had begun to open his mouth to do just that; quickly, he closed his mouth again and nodded to let Beau continue. “—and Wulf is going to continue forward with testifying in court. Astrid, for her part, said she doesn't trust herself not to throw a fireball in Ikithon’s direction. And I think I believe her on that one.” A hint of a smile briefly tugged at Caleb’s lips at this, his gaze dropping to his lap where he wrung his wrists a little too tightly.

“No, I-I appreciate it, Beauregard. But I would very much like to testify. I think… I think I need to. I need to be there,” he said. I need to see him as they drag him away.

When he finally looked back, Beau met his gaze with a look of understanding and nodded, a hint of a smile quirked slightly on her lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I kinda expected that much. I just… needed to make sure,” she said.

Caleb offered her a weak but grateful smile, shifting to sit up more in his seat as the kettle began to whistle, startling them both and breaking the tension.

“Oh! Shit, forgot about the tea,” Beau said, scrambling up to grab the kettle off his ironwood stove. “Uhhh, towels? Mitts!?” Caleb couldn’t help but laugh as the monk began to look about frantically for something to use to set the kettle on. With a flick of his wrist, a spectral hand floated up to grab a towel from the counter behind Beau and drop it on her head. “Wh—What the fuck— Oh. Thanks, asshole.” She quickly grabbed it and leveled a sour look at him, to which Caleb just smiled, leaning against the table now with his stubbled chin in his palm.

“You’re welcome, Beau. Thanks for offering to make tea,” he said. “I’ll get our cups.” And, with another flick of his free hand, the Mage Hand opened a cupboard and grabbed two tea cups from within, carrying them to the table beside him.

He could hear her muttering something under her breath (something about wizards, he was certain) as she made her way back to the table, but made no indication he heard anything even as she tossed the towel beside the tea cups and set the kettle on top of it. “Anyway, change of topic, but I can’t help but be curious���what’s up with that letter Essek asked me to give you?” she asked, catching his gaze before turning back to grab the container of tea leaves she’d left on the counter. Caleb paused, blue hues drifting almost sheepishly as his thoughts from this morning instantly flooded back to him and he remembered the task he had initially set out for himself.

“Ah, well, it’s…” Suddenly, the state of his bare feet was very interesting. Why didn’t he grab his slippers? Why indeed.

Beau, seeing this, bit back a laugh. “It’s what? Surely he wouldn’t confess his undying love to you in a letter.” He could hear the tease in her voice, could almost see the accompanying smirk on her lips as she regarded him, as he felt warmth crawl up his neck, expression shifting to something akin to incredulousness that this was even a question she’d think to ask him.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous, Beauregard. Nothing like that.” He forced himself to meet her gaze, though he wondered how fruitless it was to hide his growing interest in the other wizard—the tumultuous feelings he had been struggling to hold at bay for… awhile now, if he were honest. He was tired of denying them to himself, though he had done little to fully express those feelings. He wondered if he could without guilt of some kind creeping in. There was a vocal part of himself that had difficulty allowing him the little bit of happiness he had found in this home. Imagine how loud that part of him would be if Essek expressed any desire to share any part of his life with him? Surely, that was too much to hope for, anyway.

“Alright, then what?” She punctuated her question with the clunk of a tin as she set it on the table next to their cups, then sat, looking at Caleb pointedly.

“He told me he was working on something and wished to talk to me about it,” he replied simply, reaching out for the tin of tea leaves. Popping it open, he breathed in the fragrant leaves before he began portioning some of the contents into their cups.

“That’s it? C’mon, man, I know he wouldn’t have been so cagey about something like that.” She watched him a moment and when Caleb didn’t respond, she sighed and swung her head back to clunk against the tall back of her chair. “Fiiine, whatever. You don’t have to tell me. What spell did he send you, though?” When he turned to look at her, opening his mouth in an attempt to deflect her question, she sat up and jabbed a finger in his direction, a crooked smirk on her lips. “You can’t tell me he didn’t send you a spell scroll, Widogast! Why else would you have spent all night copying a new spell?”

A huff of a breath left his lips, a frown set over his features. Caleb should have known better than to underestimate Beauregard’s uncanny ability to extrapolate details and connect the dots, as it were—that was her job, after all, and she was exceedingly good at it. Her brilliant mind was likely one of the reasons he had come to respect her most out of all the Nein, as much as he loved all of them. “He sent me a Sending scroll,” he relinquished, meeting her gaze with some reluctance. He could see the gears turning in her head, the look of genuine surprise over her features, before the monk burst into laughter. Confused, he furrowed his brows, trying to understand why this was so funny to the other. “What? He said, as much as he enjoyed hearing of all our exploits from Jester, some things he would rather hear from me.”

This only made Beauregard laugh harder for a moment, clutching her side, before eventually tapering off. “Oh, man, I gotta admit, I don’t really know what I expected, but I really should have seen that one coming,” she said. Then, more seriously, “Have you messaged him yet?”

Caleb, unsure what Beau meant by that at all, leveled her with a look of suspicious apprehension. “...No. No, not yet. I was in the middle of trying to decide what to say when you showed up,” he admitted.

This made his friend’s face split into a very suspicious looking grin and he narrowed his eyes. “Hey, Caleb?”

“...Ja?”

Her expression shifted into one of contemplation for a moment, as if considering her words, before she said, “You should tell him.” At those words, Caleb felt a leaden weight drop into his stomach and he quickly looked away, a hand reaching out to the kettle he had momentarily been distracted from in a desperate need to focus on something other than what Beau could possibly mean by that.

“Tell him what, exactly, Beauregard?”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath, followed by the slow exhale, even as he tried to focus on the act of pouring, hazel blue hues intently watching the swirl of loose leaves whirling in his tea cup.

“You care about him, don’t you? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You both have been dancing around each other for… for months now. Especially in Aeor. Don’t get me started on how—”

“Beau.”

He cut her off, setting the kettle down with a louder thunk on the table than he intended, his fingers clenched around the handle still. Silence hung over them for a long moment, the monk watching him carefully, waiting. She’d gotten a lot better at knowing when to give him space, at least, learning when she was pushing too hard and how to pull back. Caleb was begrudgingly grateful for that, but she was also just that much more effective at getting him to talk about things he didn’t particularly wish to talk about.

This was one of those things.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, voice breathy and strained. He wished, for all he was worth, it wasn’t—that he could pursue what he wanted guilt-free or without worry of rejection, betrayal, or any million other things he could think of. So many reasons Essek wouldn’t want him. So many more reasons neither of them would be good for each other, even if Essek did. The weight of his doubts hung heavy on him, though he wished desperately to will them away, to just linger on the longing and joy he felt when in the drow’s presence.

He didn’t realize he’d been trembling slightly until he felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, and closed his eyes, his hand falling limp and retracting to himself.

“Hey.” The grip on his shoulder squeezed slightly, Beau’s tone both firm and strangely consoling. “Hey, look at me.” Caleb nearly refused with a huff, but he knew Beau wouldn’t let up until he did. So, with a sigh and some reluctance, he lifted his head to look at her where she now stood next to him, crouched slightly so as not to seem too overbearing. “I know you’ve got this whole… internal struggle going on or whatever. And, look, I get it, man—I mean, I didn’t go through the same shit you did, but I can see it and I understand.” Here, she paused, brows furrowing as she tried to think carefully about her next words—not something she was great at, but Caleb at least appreciated the effort and growth here. She was trying, where she had fumbled many times before, to level with him. “Look, uh, I’m—” She sighed and closed her eyes a moment before forcing herself to meet his gaze again. “You already know I’m shit at words in times like this, but you gotta believe me when I say whether or not you think you deserve happiness or whatever isn’t for you to decide. That’s for the people who care about you. And I— we—all the Nein—want you to find happiness, whatever that looks like for you.” Then, she straightened and lifted her hand to muss up the (already disheveled) hair at the top of his head roughly, pulling a strangled noise of surprise from the older human’s lips. “I don’t expect that shit to go away overnight, but think about it. Just don’t think for too fucking long, our lives are too short for that and you got, like… ten years on me or some shit.”

[cheeryfairygender]

Oh, that's so swag about sharing a b-day with Nagisa! /gen /pos That's neat tbh /gen

In terms of Vocaloid/UTAUloid recommendations, I've currently been listening to Pyrite Girl and What Gave It Away, both songs made by R.I.P. (with Pyrite Girl originally sung by Kagamine Rin, and What Gave It Away originally sung by Otomachi Una) on loop. Oh, and if you ever wanna listen to some good Kasane Teto covers (and I genuinely mean good /gen), look no further than Tanjiro Taidana and their covers. They're an amazing ass UTAUloid song artist/tuner, and while they primarily use Teto, they also occasionally use other UTAUloids and even Vocaloids.

Yeah, buffalo wings can be spicy, heh. In terms of wings or the sauce of whatever food item, there's usually a mild option, a medium option, a hot option, and so forth (sometimes). Depending on that, they can be spicy. However, I have a tolerance with spicy food, as well as a huge love for spicy food, so I'm a bit bias in terms of if a certain food is spicy or not /lh However, I completely respect you not tending to not like spicy food! /gen /nm I get that it's not everyone's cup of tea.

Yeah, I can definitely understand your opinion on the artstyle. Looking at the examples you provided, it honestly makes complete sense /gen (not /s). And considering I've completed DRV3, yeah, it's kind of unique compared to the other two [main] games /neu

Oh, and as for the air fryer thing you mentioned in the tags, you can usually figure out how to use it+how to airfry certain things by looking it up! Just type in Google if you can airfry XYZ food, and it'll usually give the suggested temperature and time. I'm sure you can airfry sweet potato fries, as you can airfry regular French fries (whether they're frozen or from a fast food place)! /gen /nf I feel that sounds dumb and easier said than done, but if it makes you feel better, I didn't know how to use it at first for quite awhile /gen /lh (not /s)

Oh oh, and don't worry about not adding reply icons! It's all good /lh /gen /nm

TBH I want to like spicy food but it's a sensory issue for me because I can't tolerate the pain very well, and I don't like a lot of flavors of the actual food that has spice. But oddly enough, I like Japanese style curry. It's super good. Apparently as a little kid I liked spicy food though which makes it super weird I grew out of it. I really like sour food, though! I think the issue is that spice stays in your mouth even after eating, but sour goes away super fast (unless you injure your mouth/tongue from too much/too strong sour food).

I just generally don't like things with strong flavors...like, I don't even like how black pepper tastes. I tend to eat...bread. And sweet baked products. I usually just eat a lot of samefoods but my sister is an incredible cook so I eat whatever she makes when she cooks! Otherwise I just kinda graze on snacks.

Also I listened to the music and it's super interesting /positive, I like finding smaller vocal synth artists! Also yes yes I've heard Tanjiro before and he's GREAT at utauloid tuning. I feel like utauloids are often tuned better than vocaloids nowadays because you have to put in more effort to get them to sound good and it's easier to just put less work in for vocaloid.

Airfryers are just super intimidating IG I think we got ours for free from someone who didn't need it??

Also to make it clear I don't like...dislike v3? It's a cool game, it just doesn't satisfy the itch the first two games give me, which honestly makes sense. The original Danganronpa series ended on purpose--they reached a good end for it. V3 is kinda like a new beginning so you can't go into it wanting what the original series had. I feel like the graphics/art style for Danganronpa didn't age well with time. For the original games, it made a lot more sense considering when they came out and the consoles they were released on, but that kinda sloppy, eccentric style doesn't transfer well when there's a higher production value like v3 has I think.

I think the WEIRDEST thing is how...much worse the games got in terms of jokes/content. Like, the things about incest and any homophobia got way worse. Kaito says slurs against gay men/trans women in the Japanese version more than once, I think.

In SDR2, most characters are implied to be bi and wlw or mlm. There's less in DRTHH, but they're still there. The original games write queer characters subtly but in a very good way. You still have this subtle writing for v3 but they completely upped the explicit jokes to the point it isn't silly or funny...just uncomfortable. (Mikan, Teruteru, Kazuichi, Nagito, Hajime, Imposter, and Nekomaru are all implied to be queer off the top of my head. Makoto, Mondo, Taka, Chihiro, Hifumi, Mukuro, Junko, and Leon are all implied to be queer iirc as well.) Like with Leon in DRTHH, his cousin has romantic feelings for him, but he makes it SUPER clear he hates it and it makes him super uncomfortable. But then I think v3 just has straight up incest with the monokubs? I'm not sure if the other characters reacted uncomfortably to it or not, though. But just...the way the characters talk/the jokes they make totally changed. It's super odd to me. It really takes me out of it and it

I guess my main issue is the shift in how the characters act, less context for the behavior of the characters (like, DRTHH extends into SDR2, and vice versa. Each game lends into each other), transferal/execution of the Danganronpa style, as well as the user interface. The user interface is super busy and confusing for me.

Also, the characters are intense like usual but in a super weird way. Like...negatively? In DRTHH, they were all extreme in a way normal teens could be. Instead, they feel like...superheroes. Like, their whole talents are pushed too hard. In SDR2, they were still extreme but in an, again, rather normal way.

I just seriously love the characters though. I think it's a good game, but you can't play it and expect an experience like the original series. You can only really play it and do your best to not compare it at all.