#especially given the whole cobalt situation

[thefailureartist]

I HATE this tech rat race we're all stuck in. Want to access your bank account? You need an app for that. You need a PHONE for that. And fuck your perfectly functioning phone, only new tech allowed. Access to all your apps will be straight up denied if you don't participate in the ever increasing unethical consumption.

[tigers-eyes-26]

Bowser's Rise to Power Chapter 2

Magic was outlawed under the oligarchy; it threatened the noble’s power. There were witch hunts. Most of the magikoopas had gone extinct. Bowser was fortunate that his caretaker assigned to him at birth was a magikoopa. Kamek kept his magic a secret for years. He offered his servitude to the High Koopa clan in the hopes that they wouldn’t think a magikoopa would voluntarily work for them. They saw him as only a sniveling servant.

He would slip up here and there and use his magic to keep up with Bowser’s energy as a child. When Bowser found out about the magic, he threatened to out Kamek to his parents. Kamek had to do everything that young Bowser asked him to do, or he would be headed to the gallows.

As Bowser got older, he would ask why Kamek was so afraid of the nobles. “They don’t know magic! You could easily crush them!” Bowser was the first to ever appreciate Kamek’s magic. Bowser wanted Kamek to learn more spells to aid him in his plans.

Bowser also reminded Kamek that if his staff was ever raised against him Kamek would be begging for death. It was a strange relationship. Because Kamek had been around from the beginning, Bowser could share all of his thoughts with the magician. With the caveat if he ever spilt his inner thoughts to the world Kamek would be crushed. Even though he was threated with torture or death often, Kamek enjoyed being in Bowsers presents. He could see the ambition and could tell Bowser would come out on top. Being privy to the inter thoughts of Bowser gave him joy to know that he was the only one to know. He, Kamek, was special. Kamek would listen to Bowsers music and his plans like a proud parent. One day Bowser described Kamek like is own personal hype-man. Being a hype-man to the most powerful koopa in the world was a nice role. It was way better than being hunted and killed for wielding magic and begging for scraps.

********

Bowser was declared king after he had killed all the nobles. He did it with the army he had grown out of the desperate situation that the prideful oligarchs had created themselves.

The land of the Koopa Kingdom wasn’t good for making food. It was warm and kept the koopas healthy and active. But growing crops was hard when all you had to work with was hard lava rock. They had survived on trade for centuries.

The growing and flourishing Mushroom Kingdom wanted to raise prices on their food trade to support all its growing population. The Aristocrats hated paying more for anything, especially if it was from a kingdom of people they saw as lower than themselves. Tensions between the two kingdoms caused trade to stop completely between the two. The Jungle Kingdom never heavily relied on trade from either kingdom, and never wanted to deal with their squabble so they kept out of it.

The only food that was around the volcanic land was the fish in the ocean around them. Overfishing became a problem. They needed to fish outside of their own waters. Bowser again organized fishing ventures. He didn’t care if the other kingdoms didn’t like his people in their waters, they needed food!

Even before the trade debacle shy guy tribes would occasionally raid trade routes. Instead of jumping on their turf Bowser would offer to combine their efforts. They were powerful in large numbers. The Jungle Kingdom started to use its army to protect their trade, but the Mushroom Kingdom didn’t have the strength to fend off the koopas and the shy guys.

Bowser was getting the common people food. The koopa aristocrats had enough stored up. But eventually, they would use their gold to buy from sellers that didn’t care about the quarrel. Funnily enough they were paying more for the food from the sketchy sellers than if they had given in to the Mushroom Kingdom’s demands. It was all to keep up their pride.

********

That is why a certain blue shelled winged koopa was so dedicated to Bowser. His whole family was going to starve to death before Bowser came. Cobalt was a serious koopa. He was a butler for the Van Koopas. But was fired for a small offence. After that the Van Koopas restricted him from getting any kind of job, slandering his name and reputation. He was also very proud and wouldn’t stoop to beg he would rather die. On the brink of death Cobalt found a way to volunteer to join a raid. In return for his efforts, he got food and pride in himself for providing for his family. After that he would volunteer at every opportunity. It didn’t matter if it was a raid or to help guard fishing trips in enemy waters. He wanted to prove himself more and more. He worked his way up to general very quickly. His butler skills came in handy to keep the rowdy troops inline.

One day he posed a very serious question to Bowser and Kamek.

“Seeing as I am in a higher rank than I was before. I feel I maybe a target to get to you, my lord.” Bowser regarded his general. “I have been entrusted with great knowledge that I fear could be used against you. I am a terrible liar.”

“GET ON WITH IT!” Bowser impatiently bellowed.

“I feel I need a security fail safe, just in case. I could be captured by the aristocrat loyalist or the Kongs. I request something strong to mess them up, have them regret they ever capturing one of Bowsers generals!” He shook his fist in the air to add effect.

Kamek pushed up his glasses. “Just to clarify. You want a way to end it all destructively just in case you get captured?”

“Yes!”

Kamek and Bowser exchanged a look. ‘Where did we find this guy?’

“I would hate to be responsible for your downfall, my lord.” The blue shelled koopa bowed low.

Bowser waved his hand dismissively. “You may have what you wish. Just don’t blow yourself up right away or destroy any of my things on accident.”

“Yes, my lord.” He stayed down in his bow.

“We need a set of words to activate this spell.” Kamek explained.

“How about blue shell?”

--------

Author's notes: This is kind of a headcanon lore dump with little scenes sprinkled in. I was impressed how loyal Bowser's troops were in the Mario movie. So I came up with this idea.

Chapter 1:

Chapter 3:

[tarotnoob]

PAC: What's blocking your manifestation?

What are you manifesting?

What's blocking your manifestation?

How to unblock.

Pile 1: Dam

Pile 2: Eclipse

Pile 3: Cobalt blue door

Pile 1

Manifestation: Justice/Play "Have fun. Celebrate. Don't be so serious."

I'm not deeply analyzing today. So, for this, it feels as if you're manifesting an easier time with something. It's something fair, maybe even karmic, maybe even some type of justice, but you're very attached to the outcome. Trust in the process of this manifestation. There should be balance in life between what's to be taken seriously, hard work, and then being able to relax, have fun, be able to live life without any restraints or expectations. It feels like you're asking: When will I get what I deserve? When will I be rewarded for the work I've put in or what I went through? When will it get easier? When will I have the things I want the way I want them? When will things feel "normal" or good again?

Block: Knight of Wands, Eros, The Queen

I deleted this part because I wondered if you were rushing given that all of these cards are fire energy personified. And that could be true. There could be impatience blocking this manifestation, but I actually believe that the universe doesn't punish or slow down what we are owed - I feel more we get in our own way so if you haven't received it yet, it's due to something that needs to be changed on our end. In this case, there are two ways to read the block: too much hot-headedness, impatience, personal greed or a lack of those things, such as confidence, drive, ambition, creativity. After looking at advice, I lean more toward the latter as if the cards expect you to embody this energy to... after you've weighed your mind about the situation... once you've made the choice about what will make you happy or if you want to go after your desire - you need to have the confidence to move forward as if there haven't been any disappointments along the way. Even if you've been at it for 33 years, the block is still whatever mental blocks have grown because it hasn't happened fast enough... then we start to feel defeated and less willing to try again, so rather than give up or be meek about what you want, embody energy that would fit the queen of wands, but still keep a level head about it. I agree that there is a whole thought process you may have to go through or an emotional one or even a literal process that has to take place before you can have what you are manifesting - but that justice plus play reads more like someone taking something quite seriously and going by the book, when there might be something more to it and the one thing the block points to in lacking is fire energy - specifically sacral chakra stuff. Knowing who you are and your identity, creativity, sexual blocks, confidence blocks, desires... these are your blocks right now.

Advice for unblocking: 5 of cups, Queen of Swords, New Chapter. Speaking of process, let me read/type you this about New Chapter: This part of the journey can be quite difficult, not only for you but for those around you. Go through the process, honour your feelings and the feelings of those involved but don't stay in this discontent. Honour this period, but move through it with courage, strength, and determination. It seems that a lot of your focus has been on things that didn't work out or "failures," and you're entitled to go through those emotions, but how long will you be stuck in that self-pitying or do nothing or "rest" phase because it's great to process things, but you can't do it forever. Eventually you have to get back up on your feet, start over with a clear head, and make the decision that you're ready to try this with a new approach or new mindset. It wouldn't surprise me, too, if some of this is for people with a particularly creative career who are trying to manifest... something substantial careerwise, especially if you're a writer - but it's never quite worked out. I won't discredit your effort, but it reads like: But have you tried as hard as you can? Have you really attempted this with the mindset it will succeed or have you been half-hearted and waiting for it to fall into your lap? Don't care what other people think, just do what you want to do but take off the limits from your brain and pretend you absolutely don't give a fuck and just do it.

---

Pile 2

Manifestation: Six of cups, Share Your Voice, Inner Temple

Rather than try to guess your manifestation, let me explain what it feels like. There's a sense of yearning here, there's also a sense of something deeply emotional, something that you want to share or if you want to be heard. There is something very sacred about this manifestation, personal, sentimental, soulful. There seems to have been a lot of inward reflection about this desire and may even be an unconscious manifestation, but you want to be heard. There seems to be some hesitation or naivete surrounding it as if there's fear of "coming out" about something you're feeling. It feels rather abstract, but we'll just say it's something you long deeply for. It may be something you've wanted for a long time, even since childhood. It's something that would bring you great peace and inner harmony to have. It also may be something fairly simple. I don't think you're asking for much, but there is something you're hoping to receive or even to give in some way. Maybe something like a personal fulfillment. Not necessarily a material manifestation. It could also involve a place, situation, or relationship in which you feel safe. There is a lot of introverted or internal energy with these cards, reflection, going inward, but thoughts about external connections or the outside world - just... not wanting to dive into it.

Block: Six of Wands, The Bardo - oh, okay, this message is pretty straightforward after going through the block and unblocking. So, you have a personal gift or skill. It has to do with the way you think or feel about things in life. After doing a lot of internal reflection, you have attained a lot of knowledge about life. So, what's blocking you from sharing your voice or insight with the world, is simply being able to acknowledge that you're worthy of sharing it. Maybe you think that something you want to say or share (in any form that may be), isn't... original... or creative enough... or helpful... something that makes you feel like "oh no one wants to hear what I have to say", and this bardo and six of wands are both about recognizing that your truth is worthy and needs to be heard.

How to Unblock: Ace of Wands, Celestial Teacher - this cosmic oracle deck is always amazing to me, but this celestial teacher card is also about sharing your knowledge with people and how spirit believes in you and wants you to know that what you have to say can help and is important. You being here is important. So, this is about having the passion, confidence, inspiration (or providing that to the world), and then sharing what you know with others in whatever form that may be, whether a literal teacher or guide or through some type of work that you do or who you are to your friends and how you help them, but there's something very special about what you know or your perspective on things. There's a sense of needing to light a spark for others, but it also feels like simply... needing a push so that you enter into this role. If it's to be framed in a way of what is this manifestation - it's... a purpose... it's probably an unconscious desire to be heard or to help others or to heal or to share something you've experienced or felt and then that accumulation of knowledge... have it mean something. So, how can you be heard by the world or whomever? How can you share your voice? It's pretty much just about recognizing that you're needed and worthy of being heard and that the world needs to hear whatever it is you have to say or even if it's living by being a good example, people can follow in your footsteps based on whatever role you have.

---

Pile 3

Manifestation: Emperor, Answer the Call - this gives me pile 1 vibes a bit because we have one card that's about due process, rigidity, taking action, logic... and then we have answer the call, which is more about following your intuition. So, in particular, this could be about a career path for some, or a path of any kind that leads to more stability and/or also requires taking some type of action toward that goal. It's pretty general for now, so I'll keep it at that because all the cards are saying is "take action toward a goal you feel pulled intuitively toward."

The block: 3 of swords, The Venom

Let's have a talk. So, manifestation cards seem vague and general and that could be because this is a manifestation that could apply to multiple facets of your life. Like say if one simply or unconsciously wanted to manifest stability. That could apply to work, relationships, emotional or mental states. The block here would be obvious to anyone. Both cards are about disappointment, bitterness, harsh words, something that stings, something that poisons our mental or spiritual self, harsh truths, toxicity, tough emotional situations. So - no matter what the manifestation is even if it seems to relate to intuition, stability, taking action, etc... what's... blocking that is a current toxic situation or relationship or feelings or thoughts (like 8 of swords). Either this feeling or situation or person... is in the way of what you really want and there's no rushing a process for getting rid of that feeling except to... wade through it. Or, it can even be that such a bad situation has "slowed down" your manifestation (in your eyes). Like, say you had big plans for something, and a toxic relationship got in the way and then you had to take out years to heal yourself instead of spending that time on a particular goal (yes, I'm projecting), but that also means it happens. But, really what we know for sure is some very strong negativity is blocking this. Either your energy or another person's or a whole bunch of folks.

Advice for unblocking: Two of Cups, Mirrored Souls. Well, that's certainly interesting, right? And seems to speak specifically about relationships with others, perhaps a specific individual or it could be multiple people or the inner balance inside ourselves. Harmony. Balance.

This pile is a bit more complicated than the others because, imo, there are layers here. What you are wanting to manifest is... how should I put this... what you are trying to manifest may be abstract and general in some way BUT the abstract part may also come with a soulmate, relationship, or eventual feeling of inner harmony. It's like, the call is anything that your intuition is calling you toward - it could be a job, goal, location, but you are being pushed to make some movement or take action in this direction. There's also a sense of stability or home involved in this calling. So it's almost like say you left your home with the intention of going on a trip to find some type of knowledge, or a pilgrimage. You go on the pilgrimage because you have had some really big disappointments in life that aren't necessarily related to the trip, but there's that energy there, lingering. And on this trip when you're just trying to find something or relax or see some sights, you unexpectedly meet a person - who may mirror you, things you've gone through or may even be on the trip for the same reason. They don't have to be romantic, but it does seem like the advice for unblocking is being confronted with the block in another person or seeing it for the first time within yourself. So, the advice/block could simply be some reaaaaaaaally heavy shadow work. It could also be that what you're manifesting... will come in the form of a person even if you weren't looking for a relationship or expecting a relationship to be the thing that heals (your block). The relationship and seeing it reflected in another person (you both have similar wounds), is what's going to come in to heal your block and manifest that abstract thing in the beginning, which has to do with following a call, feeling safe, feeling a steady foundation. That's why it's complicated, because the block/advice/manifestation are interwoven and not even... chronological. So, things you may have been waiting for for a very long time... to come together in some way, and it may be multiple things... may not fully arrive for you until there is some deep inner revelation or... you meet a specific person who helps you heal your wounds. I also think as a sideplot to this situation... this person who helps heal you will allow you to help others on a greater scale. You may even work together after meeting on some type of humanitarian or social justice or creative thing that can help others which is why everything is so... layered.

Another situation that's not as BIG is... manifesting some type of communication from someone, wanting to hear from someone - especially after a fight or separation. The advice isn't... super specific... other than maybe time will resolve the situation when it's meant to... or communication is necessary for things to heal between the two of you as 3 of swords (for me) is also often about no contact or no communication and this lack of communication or lack of understanding can be poisoning a relationship - and "answer the call" is literal as in - take the call, communicate, make the call, etc... I'll throw that out for some folks.

In particular, this could involve someone who happens to be Aries.... but it also may be relevant to Aries season or a big Aries planetary movement like a moon in Aries, etc...

Also with that manifestation, this feels like stepping into a very big role with a lot of responsibility. It can be one specific role like a job with a lot of power or a big job... or it's a job so big you are responsible for a lot of healing within the collective - and your one purpose is to answer this greater call, but in the process of... becoming the emperor (essentially the level you'll need to be at to take on this larger role in the end), you'll have to... endure a lot of pain and suffering, heartache, disappointment... because going through all of that will... murrr... make you more sympathetic or empathetic toward people and, in the end, you'll be able to connect more with people on a grander spiritual level, heal them, help them, learn from them, etc... I wish there was a better way to put it for some but... sometimes when we... want to be a part of something great, create something great, be great... you have to experience suffering and still... rise above it and use that to help others instead of pass that "venom" along... and maybe far down the line you'll understand it was all necessary... when something happens... and you do have to answer that call. Either of the other piles could resonate here for you as there are messages there that could help with pile 3 folks, too. Pile 1 because there's also a message about long due process and justice and then taking action... and pile 2 because that pile had things they'd learned they needed to share with the world... either message could be of worth to Pile 3. Good luck.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.” 

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

[blorbologist]

For the Weirdly specific and overly long Critical Role Ask Meme (Please pick and choose if you would prefer): 1, 5, 6, 7, 15, 16, 30, 33

Sorry this took so long anon! I had to pace myself kerngknrt

1.Answered!

5. Meta you would write if you did not fear people would be SUPER weird about it. This is also an invitation to write that meta and block the haters.

How sometimes the fandom just needs to... fucking shut up and roll with it. These aren't our characters - they're probably some of the most complex many of us have ever interacted with, by virtue of hundreds of hours of time spent with each. Sure, you might think there's one way a character should respond to a situation - but in their player (or Matt's) head there's likely a good handful of other factors going into the character's reaction to any given event. Emotional state, stress level, who is around, where they are, etc. Yes this about Percy shut up.

If a character surprises you? Great! Think about why that is - what disconnect you have between what you expected and what happened and what could have prompted that.

What they're presenting is canon - they love these characters more than you or I possibly could, even writing hundreds of thousands of words of fanfic for them. We aren't in their heads. We didn't make them. Instead of trying to reshape canon to fit your idea of what they should be, instead take a chill pill and roll with the punches. And keep in mind that you likely don't have all the information. Going back to Percy - look at that! He and Vex had a whole fucking plan ready we and the Hells didn't know about! Be open to alternative interpretations - sometimes a look is in character, sometimes it isn't, and it's hard to draw that line.

It's a game. Canon is being shifted and rewritten constantly. Stop being dicks to other fans, the cast, and especially Matt when shit doesn't align with your imperfect understanding of the setting or characters. (Or, even if it WAS perfect in the past - the setting and characters are always evolving! A perfectly in character moment for episode 1 Caleb is not necessarily true for episode 140 Caleb. Matt changed the ages of the de Rolo kids and we don't know why. It's canon now unless he decides to retcon it. Form your headcanon around canon.)

6.NPC you would most like to see as the subject of a Tales of Exandria series.

Cerrit's daughter, Maya. She has that orb! What she gonna do with it? I still love the idea she founded the Cobalt Soul, and a POV from during/immediately after the Calamity would be... insane.

7. Alternate outcome in a main campaign that you don't necessarily wish happened, but that you wish you could see played out in an alternate universe before returning to ours.

... Jazzhands @ my 'Vex is the Raven Queen's Champion' AU.

TBH? I think at the table it would have been terrible for Liam to see his PC's twin succumb to that fate and be denied the chance to stop it. But in the campaign man it'd be juicyyyyy

15. Favorite one-on-one conversation (can be between two PCs, or a PC and NPC).

Vax and Percy's conversation in the Raven Queen's shrine. I just - FUCK! So many banger lines. The undercurrent of conflict between them. The framing, with the shrine, what it Means. The subtle shovel talk. damn!!!

16. Favorite group (all/most of the party) conversation.

I... think it might be when Vax emerges, naked, in the Feywild. All the worry, the heartbreak, the slow unravelling of what it means, their initial planning on what to do next. It’s got both solid emotional beats and some good plotting - which? Call be controversial, but my autistic ass loves it when they plan! Yes, narrow things down, discuss your options! Throw out shit ones, at least you’ve addressed why they’re shit! Also - eyeball.

30. What is your favorite theory or headcanon that has absolutely no bearing on the plot and isn't important at all, but which is completely compliant with canon?

Vesper is an aasimar. fuck you. she is and forever will be in my heart. it’s the angel/devil duality, it’s her hair turning white despite absolutely not going through dad’s stressful hell, it’s the fact Vex was pregnant when Pelor blessed her, it’s so many little things that Matter to me!

33. You may ask any member of the cast one, and only one lore clarification question. What do you ask?

I think I’d ask Taliesin “What are, or were, the personalities of the non-PC de Rolos?”. Maybe he’d focus on Percy’s parents and siblings, or maybe on the kids - but given how he elaborated on why Gwen is totally not Percy’s favorite I’d like to think he’d have very complex and rounded thoughts on each. Asking him also opens up the possibility of the past and present family being addressed, vs asking Laura would 100% result in quarter-elf info, and I feel she’d likely focus more on vibes/a few interesting big traits vs how they work as characters? 

[kirinda-ondo]

You know him, you either love or hate him (or are moderately confused by my sudden dive into this hyperfixation); we're talking about Orko because I have a lot of feelings.

As a disclaimer, I am not gonna claim to be some kind of superfan. I am not aware of every single iteration of the lore and all of its secrets. I don't know anything about the DC comics. I'm only halfway through the 2002 series as of me writing this. I am not someone you want to have discussions on the wider Masters of the Universe.... universe with. However, after watching Revelation, the entire Filmation He-Man (and some of She-Ra, cause he was there too), and going on a deep dive of storybooks, annuals, and minicomics courtesy of He-Man.org and the lovely people who submitted their scans there, I do feel pretty qualified to at least talk about Orko.

So, with all that being said, I'd like to get into a little bit of backstory, if only for my followers who came to this blog for completely different things and are wondering where the hell my love for this funky little wizard dude came from all of a sudden. Truth is, Orko is actually one of my earliest faves! Mind you, I only had limited access to Masters of the Universe as a kid, only seeing a couple of rented VHS tapes and later getting my hands on a small pile of the Golden Books from Goodwill, but apparently it was enough for Orko to  imprint himself into my brain. However, also due to my limited exposure, he kind of got shifted to the back of my head as I got deeper into other things. I still knew for a fact I liked Orko a lot though, even if I couldn't quite remember why anymore.

And then Masters of the Universe: Revelation dropped on Netflix. I'm not gonna get into my opinions of that show lest I open a flood of irrelevant discourse (for those uninitiated, it is a bit... divisive, to say the least). However my feelings on the matter did encourage me to go and watch the original and well, holy shit I love Orko more now than I could have ever comprehended as a kid. He is THE quintessential underappreciated comic relief character I tend to gravitate towards, and then some.

But before I get into that, let me back up a bit and explain. Orko is a Trollan, a race of magical little dudes that are basically floating sweaters with hats and covered up faces. Out of these Trollans, Orko is an incredibly fucking OP archmage. Like, they straight up call him Orko the Great, he's so powerful. But then, he gets caught in a freak storm that whisks him away from his home dimension and into Eternia. Immediately, he runs into a young Prince Adam, who is trapped in a swamp/tar pit and needs rescuing. Orko, being the upstanding lad that he is, uses his magic to save him but in the process loses the item that allows him to focus his magic to the swamp (in the 80s version, it's a medallion, but in the 2002 series, it's a wand). Worse yet, the magic (and dare I say the very laws of physics) in Eternia works pretty much the opposite as it does in Trolla, so he's been incredibly nerfed.

So basically, Orko is trapped in a topsy-turvy world away from friends and family, a world with magic he is fundamentally incompatible with. Ouch. He's not completely screwed, however, as he is rewarded by the king and queen for his heroism and appointed... the court jester. Double ouch. He surprisingly doesn't seem to mind though. He genuinely does enjoy entertaining people, even when his tricks only ever work like half the time because he's basically a Mac program trying to run on a Windows computer.

It's not all horrible though, as he does quite literally get adopted by the royal family  and thus sort of become the entire palace's weird son/little brother (despite being older than many of them. He's very, very child-coded largely for the purposes of being a stand-in and example lesson to the actual children watching). But also, more importantly, he becomes one of the very select few to know that Adam and He-Man are one and the same.

But outside of secret-keeping, he is actually a pretty valuable ally to have against Skeletor and his dudes because even though his magic is kind of screwed up, when it does work, he's still one of the most powerful mages on Eternia. In various materials, he's created floods, a second winter, and hell, he can literally explode himself and still be perfectly fine. He's also really clever and can weasel his way out of a number of situations. In one episode, for instance, he manages to convince someone that he's He-Man and Adam is his "assistant" in order to free him from captivity so the day has a better chance of actually being saved.  He's also got the ability to just be really frustrating and incomprehensible to the point that villains who capture him sometimes either don't want him or don't know what to do with him anymore, which is honestly really funny. In an episode of She-Ra, the villains tried to scan his brain but because the inner machinations of his mind are that much of an enigma, he got diagnosed a weirdo and broke the entire machine. Absolutely delightful.

However, there's a lot more to Orko than just comedy and bungled magic. He's actually surprisingly complex!

See, going into this, I expected Orko's whole situation be played entirely for laughs while the sadder implications of his existence go entirely unaddressed. Coming off the heels of characters like Cobalt and others I enjoy, I'm used to this sort of treatment by writers. But they actually don't do that. The depressing subtext is for once, actually TEXT, which was INCREDIBLY surprising to me. We actually get to see another side of him, a side that hates that he can't be taken seriously no matter what he does, a side that is well aware of all the trouble he causes and feels like a burden to those around him. He actually runs away on multiple occasions, fully believing that he's unloved and everyone would be better off without him, even if that couldn't be further from the truth (a point which the Sorceress hammers home with multiple straight up magical video presentations, and in the 2002 series, a literary adaptation, of why he is loved and important).

Underneath all the hyping himself up that he does, there's a lot of insecurity. He's someone who desperately wants to be loved and respected and feels that without funny magic tricks to entertain people, he has no inherent value (which is incredibly relatable if you are also known by people as The Funny One). At one point he agrees with the notion that he doesn't feel like much more than a pet, which is absolutely heartbreaking. Even when he gets the ability to go back and forth between Eternia and Trolla, his feelings of inadequacy now extend toward his family, worrying that his own uncle, the one who taught him everything he knows and greatly contributed to him being Orko the Great back home in the first place, wouldn't be proud of him. Being on Eternia highkey wrecked his shit, man.

However, even when given the opportunity to go back home for good, he always chooses to stay because he's loyal as hell. Even if he needs some reminders, he does know he's needed not just in the fight against evil, but just because his friends and newfound family genuinely love him. It's heartbreaking, but also incredibly wholesome. I did not even remotely expect a comic relief character like this to get this much depth and respect from the writers, especially not from the incredibly campy and cheaply animated 80s series. I am genuinely so unused to this.

But I think that's also what separates him a bit from his fellow Silly Kid Appeal Characters That Kids Fucking Hate ala Snarf Thundercats or Scrappy Doo. He not only makes a concerted effort to be an actually useful ally, but he's also in fact very self-aware of his status as one of these characters. He knows he screws up a lot but he actually tries to accept responsibility and fix it. It makes me wanna root for the lil dude. Now I understand if someone isn't a fan of the brand of humor he brings to the table, or feel like he's simply a distraction from the Cool Buff Dudes Fighting Each Other, but I hope you can see why he might also be a really appealing character to other people, both kids and adults alike. I mean, he was popular enough to be embedded into the canon despite originating from the cartoon and not the toyline for a reason, after all.

Orko is a fun, entertaining, but also complex, heartwarming, and relatable character. I know there is a faction of people that would disagree with me, but I don't think you need to change him all that much or make him a super serious character to be more appealing. He's already got a lot going on that a writer could easily work with. It all just depends on where you decide to focus. Take a lesson from the show and accept that he's fine just the way he is.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 5/?: Housewarming

Sasuke spars with Naruto for the better portion of the afternoon into evening, until they are both sufficiently exhausted and slightly sunburned, on the condition that he will eat anywhere but Ichiraku’s and anything but ramen for the dinner his friend is trying to goad him into after. Naruto agrees all too quickly, grinning too much for his liking, and saying a little duplicitously, “That so? Happens that I know a place!”

The blond refuses to tell him where he’s leading him after their fight finally concludes in a draw, weaving tiredly through village streets around six at night with bruised ribs. Sasuke begins to suspect it’s an elaborate ruse to lure him to his house to eat. Sure enough, eventually they turn a corner and marigold, cobalt, and fuchsia invade his line of vision.

“You’re so stupid. I’m not eating anything you’ve put your hands on.”

Naruto laughs, evidently not the slightest bit offended. “Don’t worry, Hinata-chan made me a bunch of food for the next few days! There’s more than enough to share, and I haven’t touched any of it.”

Sasuke grumbles, but his friend assures him that at least some of it’s not ramen, so he acquiesces cautiously and follows him through the threshold of his home.

It is pretty nice, as Sakura said, though he’s sure that’s because of the dobe’s wife and not him, and what he’s comparing it to - Naruto’s old apartment, littered with trash and expired food items in the fridge - doesn’t set a very high bar in the first place. The house has wood floors, and a spacious kitchen with plenty of storage, at least from what he discerns when he first walks in. He assumes he’s going to be forced on the tour shortly to view the rest of it.

There is an absolute mountain of pre-prepared food in clear containers when his friend opens the fridge. Sasuke will admit pretty much everything looks good, though he’s not sure what specifically the dobe plans on them eating. He’s not sure Naruto knows, either; he stares at the contents of the fridge for a long minute, squinting as if making a life-changing decision.

“...Does she think you can’t feed yourself or something?” Sasuke deadpans.

Naruto laughs nervously, in a way that gives Sasuke the impression that Hinata Uzumaki might not be as quiet and reserved as most people assume, at least behind closed doors. His friend almost sounds fearful, as if there may be consequences for him if he doesn’t eat what his wife has prepared for him in her absence in its entirety.

“...Or she just knows you’d eat instant ramen the whole time she was gone, otherwise.” This time it’s not a question.

Naruto has the grace to at least feign embarrassment. “Well, uh, you know what they say… Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his food, or whatever!” Sasuke wonders for a short few seconds what kind of repercussion Hinata could possibly be holding over him, but then remembers Kakashi’s warning earlier in the day, and decides abruptly that he doesn’t care to further pursue that train of thought.

Eventually they decide on vegetable and shrimp tempura with plain onigiri, all premade. Sasuke is hungry, and tempura has a high caloric intake. Naruto dumps the tempura in a mysterious device called an air fryer to warm, and while they wait, the blond shows him around.

It’s commodious, with extra bedrooms as Sakura said. Most of the furniture is rich dark wood, accented with slightly vibrant colors, inclusive of the walls, that are perhaps a little intense for his own preferences. It is obvious that Naruto helped pick the paint colors, but he assumes Hinata must like them, too. The Hyuga are an old clan, deeply rooted in tradition as the Uchiha had been; Sasuke imagines that many of the interiors at the Hyuga residences are varying shades of white, gray, or brown, also with darker wood, as many of the Uchiha households had been; a more colorful interior would have been a change for her. He supposes a proclivity for brightness makes sense, given that she’d married Naruto. Their house overall smells vaguely like jasmine blossom and nectarine, though not overbearingly so. Naruto’s apartment had never smelled like that, so it must be Hinata’s doing. Sasuke spies a candle the color of honey that might be the source, perched on a corner table.

It sits next to a framed copy of their original Team Seven group portrait. Sasuke eyes it as they pass through the living room again to the back door.

It opens up to a sizable backyard situated on the north side of the house, framed with a fence for privacy and a number of lush trees, dangling greenery swaying in the breeze. A small garden sits in the far back left corner, the area with the least tree cover; it’s been recently tilled and sowed, small sprouts beginning to poke through the soil.

“We get lots of fireflies back here in the summer. Hinata-chan loves them, so we sit back here all the time! She’s thinking of getting a birdbath, too,” Naruto mentions fondly, a bit more hushed than his usual timbre; he must have some good memories back here already.

“It’s nice.” Sasuke remarks at the end when they go back inside, because it is, and his friend grins from ear to ear, stupidly proud. Then the timer dings from the other room, and they eat.

Hinata’s cooking is good. Sasuke sorts out all of the sweet potato chunks to shove onto Naruto’s plate, but eats the rest: squash, bell peppers, eggplant, broccoli, and shrimp, coated in spiced breading that tastes slightly of rosemary, along with the onigiri, more simple but also filling.

Naruto prattles throughout as always, but chews his food before launching into each new topic; it really must be a habit by now. Sasuke doesn’t hold the scroll over his head just yet; he figures Saturday night will be enough opportunity for that. Instead, he solidifies plans for another spar, this time late Saturday morning, because through the nearly endless chatter he has learned that Naruto’s schedule includes normal weekend days off, unless assigned a mission.

The dobe asks him to go drinking with him afterwards; he declines, but thanks him for dinner. Eventually, he departs, after his best friend reminds him for the fourth time today to meet up at Ichiraku’s on Saturday night at six.

As he walks home, lone hand in his pocket, Sasuke finds himself pondering once again what Sakura’s living space will be like. She doesn’t strike him as someone who would like darker wood, for some reason. It’s an apartment, so it will be smaller than Naruto’s house for sure. He assumes it’s probably one bedroom, like his own.

The cadence of crickets creeps in again as he leaves the more lively area of town, buoyed into something quieter by the swishing of leaves through the trees. It’s a sound he craved on his travels often. There are similar sounds elsewhere - insects and trees are not uncommon - but something about Konoha’s particular lilt sticks out in his memories. A clement wind from the north carries an aroma tinged with flowers and loam. When he turns the corner, the breeze blows just right to shift his hair away from his left eye, and his neck heats as he thinks of Sakura’s words from this morning, not for the first time today.

Once he gets back to his apartment, he strips, then tosses his clothing directly into the washing machine, before enjoying a long, near-boiling shower; after the workout he’s had, he needs it. He thinks as he scrubs that this way he won’t need another one until after he gets back from seeing Sakura tomorrow. He contemplates whether they will eat somewhere, since he’s meeting her at the hospital at four. He’d liked the tea shop; she probably knows of other places worth trying.

He is so exhausted that he saves washing his dishes for tomorrow and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. His last thoughts are of gentle jade eyes and kind words murmured in an exam room.

Sasuke is thankful that he doesn’t have another nightmare, but his brain decides to fill the time in other demiurgic ways involving soft fingertips, and when morning comes, he does need another shower, after all; this time, a cold one.

He pinches his nose guiltily as frigid water engulfs him, until his teeth are near chattering. Once that’s done, he throws on a black shirt and pants before grabbing a book. He huddles up under his comforter to chase away the chill, drowning his thoughts in icy history ripe with distraction rather than lasciviousness.

He finishes it eventually, convinced towards the end that he needs to acquire a small lamp; he doesn't like overhead lighting in general, but he especially doesn’t like it for reading. His teeth have stopped clacking together, so he gets out of bed and spends the first portion of the day washing dishes, sharpening his chokuto, and then making lunch, seared beef with green tea noodles and miso dressing. It’s simple, but good, and filling. His throat hurts less than yesterday, but he has another cough drop after, because it helps.

He washes and dries the dishes from today, putting them away before he leaves his apartment to pick up a few more groceries to fill the time. The market he visits is sold out of loose leaf sencha tea; the one he’d visited the first day in his apartment hadn’t had any, either. He settles for a small box of single-serve packets for the time being, and has a cup upon his return to his apartment. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste quite as fresh. He reads more of his other book for a bit, until it’s time to leave to meet Sakura at the hospital.

He leaves a little early again, because he’s eager to see her.

Sakura greets him cheerily, lovely with a tote bag on her shoulder that is starting to become familiar. She tells him that she dropped off his paperwork earlier today, and that his bloodwork has all come back normal. He thanks her, and they spend a nice late afternoon together, roaming around while she points out areas of interest, most of it new development on the more southern part of the village. Wandering with her is much preferable to solivagant ambling on his own, he is coming to find.

He learns that Sunday and Monday are indeed her days off, unless there is an emergency; she mentions that she has a standing date with Ino every Monday morning for training and lunch, but other than that, she keeps her free time pretty open.

“Would you… like to do something on Sunday, then?” He asks carefully, hand twitching a little in his pocket and stomach churning a little in nervousness, though she has given him no reason to be. He hopes he’s not being avaricious by asking for too much of her time. She might prefer to spend some time alone on her days off.

Glittering green eyes beam up at him in response. “Of course,” she answers, and the storm brewing in his belly settles while the vines reach upwards into his chest cavity, because she says it with an inflection that implies there’s nothing she would rather do.

“I think it’s supposed to rain,” Sakura tells him as they walk further southwest; they’re nearing the edge of the village now. “So we probably don’t want to walk around too much. I usually…” Her eyes flick to him, and then away, as if self-conscious. “I usually curl up inside with a book on rainy days. Or... watch documentaries. Sometimes I play go or chess.”

A ghost of a smile overtakes him, because reading on a rainy day is very characteristic of her, but so are the other two things, which he hadn’t known.

Then she’s asking, somewhat shyly, “What do you like to do, on a rainy day?”

It’s a good question; he hasn’t been home for a rainy day in a long time. When he was traveling, he would find shelter - an inn, or the inside of a tree or a cave - and do various tasks that needed doing, like sharpening weapons or writing a letter to her. On those days, he would also often read her old correspondence to him, too, but he’d be embarrassed to admit that to her.

When he was younger, though, he would complete any neglected chores in the morning, and then spend the rest of the day reading, though he did it mainly for productivity to the point of distraction. Sasuke did not like being cooped up in his house for long periods of time, for obvious reasons. Occasionally he would venture to a training ground anyway, if the rain was more light drizzle than downpour, but most of the time he opted not to, because getting sick would delay his progress more than sitting out a day; he could advance in other ways, look into new techniques and practice taijutsu forms inside, if he really focused.

If it rained heavily for more than a day or two consecutively, though, trapping him in the house, he tended to struggle more with it. Sometimes he would stare at a kunai or shuriken left behind in Itachi’s room for too long, and end up sticking his wrist out a back window to watch the water cleanse the wound he’d carved into his skin until it coagulated. It wasn't something he did often, because he knew it was stupid and weak despite the small semblance of control it afforded. It also wasn’t something he only did when it was raining, but being entombed in that house due to inclement weather poured salt into his baser self-destructive tendencies, irritation burning until it was too much and it had to escape his skin to go somewhere. When it rained, it felt like it was an opportunity to rinse it out of him, a tiny increment of relief, rivulets reaching down to turn him over in the grave of dark wood and dull paint colors it felt like he was suffocating in.

Sasuke would go get groceries most of the time, before it got to that point, even if he didn't need them, just to get out of the house for a bit and away from the temptation. He’d come back soaked, tracking water everywhere before curling up in his bed to try to chase away the chill with more distraction, books or scrolls or trying to watch something. Eventually he’d warm up on the outside, but his insides still felt icy for a long time, most days.

He's in an apartment now, though, a long way from what used to be the Uchiha District. He takes a grounding breath that he hopes is subtle, trying to emerge from the glaucous recollection and subsequent smothering feeling lining his lungs. “...I do any chores that need doing, and then I like to read, too,” he finally answers. It's the truth, now. Keen but soft eyes hold his for a moment, and he worries maybe he didn’t fully succeed at the subtlety, but she doesn’t press. He’s thankful for it; he doesn’t want to think about that when he’s with her.

They make plans to have lunch and spend the afternoon reading their respective books at her apartment. He might finish his other book by Sunday’s end; maybe she would go to the library with him again Monday afternoon, if she’s not too busy. He wouldn’t mind playing go or chess, either, if she asks him. It would be a challenge; he hasn’t played either in years. He’ll save it for Sunday, though.

“I can cook,” she offers, looking very pleased, which makes his heart flutter in his chest. “Maybe soup and something to go with it, if it’s chillier? I have a slow cooker I can start it in, the morning of.”

He agrees immediately; he likes soup, and it’s been a while since he’s had a good bowl. Most of the soup he made on the road was limited to whatever ingredients were readily available, with simple water as stock. The result was usually something bland, warming but not hearty by even the barest standards; soup made in a kitchen is much better. He’ll eat any kind, really, especially if it’s cold out. He wonders what Sakura’s cooking is like; she excels at most everything she does, so he imagines it must be good.

By just after five, they’ve ended up at a fairly new and distinctive quadrant of training grounds a little beyond the southwest edge of the village, sharp quartz rock jutting up from uneven ground in several spots and a small creek running down its center. Parts of it sit at a raised elevation, offering a unique vantage point of Konoha. Sasuke realizes as he eyes the surroundings that he would like to train here sometime; the craggy terrain could prove an interesting element to contend with, an exercise of both the mind and body. He’s glad she showed him; he wouldn’t have ventured to this side of town for a long time, on his own.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, thinking he could buy her dinner if she knows any places nearby. It’ll be busier now that it’s dinner time, once they get back into the village, but he doesn’t mind.

Sakura doesn’t answer at first, and instead starts to fiddle inside her bag. His brows knit in confusion, but then she pulls out two bottles of water, two bento boxes, and two pairs of chopsticks.

They’re in reusable containers, not takeout ones, which means she must have made them herself. Sasuke stares at the one she gives him, dumbfounded; it’s filled to the brim with cooked rice topped with black sesame seeds, tonkatsu with sauce, shredded cabbage, green beans goma-ae, and a large number of tomato wedges. Her own has less tomato; a few grapes round it out instead. He also notices the tonkatsu sauce is already poured over hers, but his is in a small sealed container, so he can eat the pork plain if he decides he doesn’t care for the tangy but also slightly sweet dressing.

“I thought we could eat these here... if you want. We could avoid the dinner rush that way. I made the sauce a little less sweet than usual, but I still wasn’t sure, so I thought I’d let you decide,” Sakura offers, soft and kind. He’s too stunned to say anything right away, so she adds somewhat sheepishly, “If... you’d rather get something else, though, that’d be fine, too.”

He thanks her very quietly, then, a little dazed and throat closing up, because he would not rather get something else; he hasn’t had a bento in a long time, let alone one that was prepared specifically for him. The training ground is empty, so they hop up one of the small cliffs and eat it there as she suggests, in view of Hokage Rock framed by trees. It is very good, clearly made with fresh ingredients; the pork is juicy on the inside and texturally crunchy on the outside. The sauce is good, too; not too sweet. He makes sure to eat all of it, as well as to tell her he enjoyed it at the end. She flushes at the compliment; she is very pretty, pink hair and pink cheeks to match.

"How long do you think it'll be before Naruto's up there?" She asks him after they’ve been sitting there for the better part of an hour, food long finished and eerily echoing his thoughts from a few nights ago.

Sasuke regards the mountain, empty space next to Kakashi's likeness. He recalls dinner yesterday at his friend’s home, Naruto sharing food with him made by his wife, and Ichiraku’s the day before that, how he no longer talks with his mouth full, and how he has not pressured him to share about Sakura. Sasuke is sure his rare tact won't last forever, and that he'll be hounded about his relationship with her eventually, but he has appreciated the space gifted to him. For all of their teammate’s fatuousness, he really has grown. If he can get an increment better at deciphering scrolls...

"Not long," he responds eventually. "Five years. Maybe six, with the sculpting."

Sakura nods in agreement, an evocative smile playing at her lips; she must suppose the same.

He speculates, then, tearing his gaze away from her mouth, who else they will see on the mountain in their lifetimes, in the empty space extending to the right. He thinks Naruto is the type to live to be pretty old, especially if Hinata is coercing him into eating balanced nutritional meals now; he might make it to a point where he actually retires from being Hokage, like Tsunade, or Kakashi, eventually.

The next Hokage could be in the village already, maybe in the Academy still, or a Genin. Sasuke remembers a scrawny kid with atrocious camouflage techniques who used to follow Naruto around and challenge him to battles over the position; it may have been the Third's grandson. He hadn’t seemed particularly talented at the time, but then again, neither was Naruto at that age. It’s possible that the kid has progressed since then. It’s also possible, though, that the next Hokage has not even been born yet.

Sasuke walks Sakura home a couple of hours later, dark violet light of dusk cast on her through diamonds on her doorstep. Her expression is the same as the other night, eyes sparking with gold affection, so he kisses her again, hesitantly hoping it’s okay, because he really wants to. Apparently it is, because she rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him back without an ounce of uncertainty. His hand is free this time, so he rests it on her waist carefully, and enjoys a sweet breath of spring.

XXX

Sasuke arrives at Ichiraku’s at six on the dot to find both of his teammates already there, with an empty seat left between them and three glasses of water on familiar currant red counters. He is unsurprised to see that Kakashi’s not here yet. There’s an empty seat to Naruto’s left that is clearly being saved for their old sensei using one of Naruto’s sandals, off his foot; it’s pretty busy, being a Saturday night. He also notes Sakura’s tote bag situated beneath the counter, underneath the stool she’s sitting on; perhaps her afternoon with Ino went longer than anticipated, and she hasn’t had time to go home yet.

Both of them turn their heads as he approaches, brightening and greeting him in unison beneath fluorescent lighting.

“Teme!”

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.”

It is terribly nostalgic. He takes the place between them, responding, “Sakura. Dobe.” The streets themselves are busy, but within the actual enclosure of Ichiraku’s, it’s not as loud.

“We haven’t ordered yet,” Sakura tells him good-naturedly, smiling and pushing him a menu. His gaze lingers on her for a second before looking down at it. She’s pretty beneath fluorescent lighting, too.

“We’re not fucking waiting for Kakashi-sensei, though. I’m hungry , and who knows when he’ll turn up? He’s probably reading one of his stupid books and lost track of time again,” Naruto grumbles, peckish, from his other side. His friend’s stomach growls, as if on cue.

Sakura laughs, then sighs from his right. “He’s probably lost in a pile of paperwork. At least this time it might be true.”

“...He might be trying to finish breaking the cipher on that scroll you can’t seem to solve,” Sasuke quips smugly towards his left, eyeing the menu, though he doesn’t really need to; he knows his order already.

He is way too satisfied by Naruto’s huff. “Ugh, I’m fucking sick of staring at that thing. It makes me feel like my brain is melting. I wish he’d just give me a mission. I want to fight something.”

“I’m sure you’ll both get one eventually,” Sakura remarks with confidence. “Try to enjoy the peacetime a little. It’s a good thing. Besides, if you really want to, you can just go battle it out at the training grounds...” She eyes them both with a critical and calculating scrutiny now, a single pink brow arched and something in her tone shifting. “...Though by the bruising, I’m sure that’s already happened.”

There is a fist shaped smear of violet he knows is on his forearm, clearly visible from her vantage point. At least his ribs are hidden; there are nasty bruises on three of them from the first spar, and another two developing from this morning. Naruto looks a little scared, when he glances over at him; despite the fact that the blond is laughing nervously, his hand is held awkwardly, obviously trying to shield the bruise he has on his chin, turning purplish-blue by now.

It was another draw. Sasuke expects he’ll be able to beat him, next time. He’s found he’s a bit rusty, not having too many excuses to use his more advanced techniques in a long while.

Sakura rolls her eyes after a tense moment, and the spell is broken. “If either of you break anything, just don’t be stupid; come to the hospital or my place so I can fix it.”

“Sure, sure, anything you say, Sakura-chan!” The dobe responds next to him, hesitant laughter still tinged a little with fear. Sasuke nods, then thinks for about the fifth time today that he’s going to see her apartment tonight.

Once Sasuke slides the menu back, Naruto catches Teuchi’s attention; the blond orders garlic tonkotsu, Sasuke orders hakata tonkotsu, and Sakura orders shoyu ramen. It’s the same as what they used to get when they were kids.

It’s a nice evening for this, he thinks.

“So what’s new at the hospital, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks conversationally. “Anything exciting?”

Sasuke shifts his gaze to his right, where Sakura looks as if she’s giving it a lot of thought, lips shifted to the side; he forces his eyes upward. “Eh, nothing too exciting, yet. Just appointments and research, for the most part. I’ve got some long-term projects I’m working on, but I’m just kind of waiting to see how the data pans out at this point while I monitor. It’ll be another month or so yet for anything concrete there, I think.” She cocks her head to the side a little. “I’ve got a transplant patient we’re waiting on an organ for, so we’ve been trying to prep her so she’s ready; different medicinal cocktails, testing, and such.” She pauses. “Tsunade-shishou sent over some things that arrived this morning, though, and one of them was a sample of a new poison found in a few Shinobi in Wind. I guess that’s… interesting. She’s going to work on it, too, so hopefully we get an antidote quickly, but I started some tests on it today.”

Sasuke’s lips turn downwards. That doesn’t sound good.

“Ehhh, between you and Granny Tsunade, I’m sure you’ll find an antidote soon!” Naruto chirps positively from his left. Then he quiets, in a manner that suggests he’s cogitative. “How bad?”

“Well, it’s slow enough progression-wise that they’ll live if we find an antidote in time; they’ve got at least a month, we think. Maybe more, if Tsunade-shishou keeps siphoning it out via the Delicate Illness Extraction Technique. It’s not... pleasant for the patient, obviously, but it works. She’s already run most of the preliminary tests; calcium chloride, pyridoxine, sodium bicarbonate, so we at least have some stuff ruled out.,, There might be others eventually, though, so it would be best to nip it in the bud and have an antidote readily available, really.”

“...What do you know about it so far?” Sasuke asks. “In terms of the type of toxin.” Having been dosed numerous times with poisons to build up resistance, he knows he is essentially immune to many of them, but a new one popping up is never something one should disregard in their line of work.

Jade shifts to him. “We suspect it might be a mixture of several venoms, plus a heavy neurotoxin. Epinephrine doesn’t work at all, though; that’s why we’re leaning towards it being a combo. Something has to be continuing the effects while that cycles through the system.”

Neurotoxins are troublesome; a mixture with it is nothing to scoff at. “It causes paralysis?” He questions.

Sakura inclines her head in a nod. “Immediately after Tsunade-shishou uses the Extraction Technique, though, they gain some movement back, so if we can find an antidote, it won’t be permanent.”

There is a contemplative silence.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re gonna kill a lot of rats,” Naruto finally jokes from his left, gauche as ever and clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“They’re mice, not rats,” Sakura responds, rolling her eyes. “But yes. We probably will. Necessary sacrifice, I suppose.”

There is a substantial length of time that feels heavy, even with the distant background noise of people going about their evening.

Sakura is the one to break it. “What about you, Naruto? Anything new? Hinata’s on a mission, I heard. What have you been doing to fill the time?”

Sasuke glances back to his left, where Naruto is grinning suspiciously.

“You mean other than kicking the shit out of teme?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. “As I recall, both spars were draws, dead last .”

Naruto laughs, unbothered and waving his hand jokingly. “Eh, really I dunno. Mostly just helping Kakashi-sensei at the office. He’s torturing me with homework , since Hinata-chan’s gone.”

Suddenly their food is being placed in front of them. His smells good, charred pork belly swimming in spring onion, nori, mushrooms, noodles, and ginger. Sakura says thank you to Teuchi, and then he hears her break her chopsticks. She doesn’t miss a beat. “Hypothetical mission assemblages again?”

Naruto groans as he snaps his own chopsticks. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare. I know most of the people our age fine enough, but you basically have to memorize everyone’s abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, or you spend hours doing it because you have to refer to The Binder.” The way the dobe articulates The Binder makes it sound ominous.

“Huh. Now that I know it’s a nightmare, I’ll make sure to give you even more of it,” a familiar voice lilts behind them.

The three of them turn, and Kakashi is behind them, clad in simple Jonin dress instead of Hokage robes, for all appearances completely unbothered by the fact that he’s nearly twenty minutes late.

All three of them give him a withering look, slightly tinged with nostalgia, and say nothing.

“Sorry. Got lost in a pile of paperwork.”

Their old sensei removes Naruto’s shoe from his saved seat, and places it directly on the blond’s head. It promptly falls off and nearly lands in the idiot’s bowl of ramen as he splutters to catch it. Kakashi orders hakata tonkotsu without even glancing at the menu, same as Sasuke.

“So. Isn’t this nice,” The Hokage drawls. “How are we all? Enjoying the springtime?”

“It’s good! Hinata-chan planted a garden! We’re gonna have broccoli, and sweet potatoes, and maybe even pumpkin!” Naruto responds as he shoves his shoe unceremoniously back onto his foot before reaching for his chopsticks again.

“The weather has been nice," Sakura pipes up from behind him, though her tone of voice makes it sound as though more than that has been nice. Something in him twists pleasantly.

“...It’s good,” Sasuke comments last, before taking another bite of his food. It’s an understatement.

Kakashi looks content, head nodding in agreement. “Everything’s really greening up. I think it’s going to be a good year. No wars on the horizon, either, at least that I know of; that’s always preferable. Gets one into a reflective headspace.”

“About what, having time to read porn in your office?” Naruto quips sarcastically in between inhaling bites of bean sprouts and noodles, though Kakashi doesn’t seem at all fazed. Sasuke hasn’t seen any orange books in the times he’s visited the Hokage’s office so far, but he’d been sure they were stowed somewhere within easy access.

“Can’t a Hokage take a break to enjoy fine literature once in a while?” Their old sensei asks good-naturedly, but Naruto rolls his eyes as Sasuke, and he assumes Sakura, continue to eat their food at a normal pace.

“Fine literature? As if ! You forget I’ve read all those books. They’re full of good ideas, sure, but they’re still fucking porn ! And anyways, no, you can’t take a break. Not when you’re piling homework on me like I’m in the Academy still. I know , by the way.”

Now Kakashi’s smile turns a little nervous. To most people, the change would be imperceptible, but it’s there for those that know him well. “Know what, exactly?”

The blond’s eyes narrow accusingly. “That you’re actually using my homework to put together squads for real fucking missions! I shouldn’t have to find out from Shikamaru. In the Academy, they expel kids for that shit.”

Judging by the caught expression on Kakashi’s face, there is at least some element of truth to this, which means Naruto must be doing an okay job, at the very least. Interesting .

“So a sensei isn’t allowed to appreciate and value the advice of a cherished student?”

“Whatever. Just keep giving me days off when Hinata-chan’s home and maybe I won’t tattle to the other kages.”

Kakashi smiles. “I can do that.”

There is a beat where everyone besides their sensei is quiet, taking a few bites of their food. Sasuke’s is good; he’s hungry. Going near all out against Naruto has given him a little more of an appetite, the past few days. He’s been trying to eat more, as Sakura suggested.

“Sakura, I received an interesting letter from Tsunade today.” their old sensei drawls after a bit. Sasuke shifts slightly. She’s swallowing a bite, and looking curious.

“About the poison?”

Sasuke glances back to his left in time to see Kakashi nod. “The poison, and also other worthwhile projects. Let me know if you need any funding for such things, and I’ll find a way to take care of it.”

Sasuke wonders what kinds of projects, but assumes it might be rather confidential when Sakura blinks, then nods, answering simply, “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei; it’s greatly appreciated.” Perhaps it has to do with her research.

Naruto finishes off his first bowl, and orders another. Now that he’s not inhaling food, he begins chattering again.

“So anyways, when are you gonna send us all on a mission together again?! I feel like I’ve been trapped in that office with you like an old croney for eighty-four years.”

Suddenly Kakashi appears very tired, eyes narrowing in exhaustion. “If you feel trapped now, I’d hate to see how you feel in five years or so.” He pauses, as Naruto narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms. “I have a lost cat mission you could complete, I suppose. Or would you rather clean up the river? It’s good weather for it. Water’s warming up.”

Naruto looks at him indignantly. “As if. I want a real mission!! One that suits our strengths.”

The way Kakashi considers Naruto then is fond. Sasuke vaguely recollects a time where Naruto begged the Third for a ‘real’ mission a long time ago; that must be what he’s remembering.

“Well, the problem with that is that Sakura formally outranks you,” he finally retorts. His food shows up a second after he finishes talking.

Naruto groans. “This shit again?” Sasuke assumes this must be a running thing Kakashi likes to hold over his friend’s head. Technically it’s correct; Sakura had told him she’d made Jonin at the exams in Earth Country a while back, in one of her earlier letters. He’s sure she could have made Jonin sooner, but she’d been occupied with things at the hospital, he thinks. Naruto and himself, meanwhile, had never taken the exams, though it hadn’t affected their ability to take A and S-rank missions, given their role in ending the war; they held honorary Jonin positioning in all but the actual title itself, and weren’t held back from missions because of it in any way, but still, Sakura is the only one of their team that has taken them officially and passed. Naruto had told him that Tsunade didn’t want to promote Sakura like that, despite her contribution in ending the war, too; he’d assumed it was because the Fifth didn’t care for Sakura’s promotion to be in any way weighed down by assumptions of nepotism, especially with her taking over the hospital. Kakashi hadn't, either; he'd assumed for the same reason. Naruto and Sasuke getting special treatment regarding what missions they can accept is fine, because currently they hold no official titles, but with Sakura heading the hospital, it’s a different matter.

“How many times are you gonna hold that over my head?! Quit fucking around already. It’s not my fault Granny Tsunade wanted to show Sakura-chan off to all five nations, and besides, I was literally there, so it’s not like I don’t know.”

Sasuke blinks in sudden interest, as Kakashi quips, “If you were there, why didn’t you take the exams yourself? I seem to remember someone getting banned from the Kage’s seating area. That looks great for a future Hokage candidate, by the way, and was fun to try to de-escalate with the elders of Earth Country. Maybe you could have set a better example if you had also been taking the exams… Though I suppose it would have been embarrassing for you when Sakura beat you in three seconds flat.”

Sakura laughs a little to his right as if she is amused as Naruto complains some more, while Sasuke considers that he has never been given a detailed account of her performance at those exams, though he’s sure it was excellent. He’ll have to ask her or Naruto about it.

Naruto’s still whining. “Come ooooon. Just ONE teensy little mission. No bullshit. We’re all back; you basically have to, it’d be illegal NOT to. It can even be a B-rank.”

Kakashi doesn’t miss a beat. “I have a nice C-rank you two could probably handle.” Sasuke twitches a little, because he knows that’s directed at him, too, now. “Simple escort to Sand. Don’t want to take a prestigious Jonin away from her important work at the hospital, though, for such a measly thing.”

Sakura’s laugh twinkles. “Send Shikamaru. I’m sure he’d love to go.”

Kakashi grins, as if he is in on a joke. “Yes, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru. That would be an interesting team, to say the least, though perhaps a little overpowered. I’ll think it over… If nothing comes up that we desperately need Shikamaru for, that is.”

Naruto grumbles and turns to finish emptying his second bowl of ramen as Sasuke surmises inwardly, finishing off his own, that it would be an interesting team, even if it was just an escort. From what he knows, Nara is a capable leader and excellent strategist. He’s sure Shikamaru doesn’t like him very much, which is more than fair, but watching Naruto annoy someone else for a change would make the heated trek to Sand bearable. He wonders what Sakura’s comment was about, though. Maybe it was sarcasm, regarding most peoples’ general disdain for the sweltering weather there.

Sasuke notices, as he pushes his bowl forward, now empty, that Kakashi still hasn’t touched his food. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on that. When he glances to his right, he sees that Sakura has finished hers, too.

The restaurant is starting to clear out a little, it being closer to seven now. Naruto finally stops mumbling insults towards Kakashi, and instead peers at him as if he’s waiting for something. Maybe he wants to go home; his friend might have plans after this, though he’s not sure what they would be, given his wife is away.

“...Sorry to disappoint you, Sasuke, but we’ve been less than honest about dinner tonight,” Kakashi begins after meeting Naruto’s gaze. Sasuke’s brow furrows in puzzlement, and the dobe starts grinning smugly. When he glances the other way towards Sakura, she smiles, too, and looks a little guilty.

“It is also… a housewarming party.” The Hokage grins. “Though we thought we’d just have it here, and you could take your gifts home with you tonight.”

Sasuke frowns. “You didn’t need to-”

Naruto butts in, indignant and cutting him off accusingly with a pointed finger, “And don’t even TRY to say no, because I got you the best gift.” Sasuke has a brief premonition of his sparse kitchen cabinets suddenly filled with a month’s supply of instant ramen, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. The dobe motions to Teuchi, gesturing towards the inner portion of the ramen stand, just below the counter. Sasuke then recalls the bag beneath Sakura’s chair, and frowns deeper, turning to her; though he’s sure the shoe box was free, she’s already given him the drying rack, which he’s sure was not. She didn’t need to get him anything else.

She just grins at him, eyes flashing with mirth as if she finds this amusing. He’s about to say something - he’s not sure what - when Naruto taps him on the shoulder. He turns, and the most poorly wrapped gift he has ever seen in his life comes into focus, a long thin mess of too much tape and intensely colorful paper, scrunched together haphazardly as if put together by a child with little motor control, and shoved directly into his face.

“...Why did you wrap it?”

His best friend rolls his eyes. “Because it’s a PRESENT, jackass. Besides, you guys wrapped yours too, right?!”

When Naruto looks from their old sensei to their teammate, Kakashi wears a jovial smile that tells him he didn’t, and Sakura doesn’t say anything behind him, but Naruto narrows his eyes, and that’s enough to tell him that she didn’t, either. “What the fuck, you guys are the worst! This is supposed to be a party!!”

Naruto sets the gift down on the counter in front of him, and Sasuke frowns at it stubbornly for a short while. The three of them are staring at him expectantly, though, so he sighs and reluctantly starts to peel the shoddy wrapping job away, curious as to where the idiot got instant ramen that comes in a long skinny box. He’s careful as he peels, so the paper doesn’t fly away in little chunks and litter the restaurant or the ground around them.

His brow creases as he peels away the final bit of paper and tape, because it’s not ramen, after all. Naruto’s gift is a paring board of a unique design, new from the store in an unopened box. The picture shows a maple wood finish, but with small skewers jutting vertically from it on the bottom center, on which one can spear vegetables or fruit to help hold it in place while slicing. It also has a corner guard on the upper left with an edge sealer to help keep other things one wants to slice, like bread or sushi, secure. In addition, it says it has silicone feet, so it doesn’t move around when you use it.

He didn’t know anything like this even existed. It is a surprisingly thoughtful and helpful gift, one that he’s sure comes from a deep understanding of the challenges that come with living with one arm, though Naruto has had the prosthetic, now, for a while.

Sasuke studies it for a long moment, genuinely touched. “...It’s nice. Thank you.” Truth be told, it’s more than nice, and will be incredibly useful. He won’t have to summon a clone anymore to cut things.

Naruto laughs and slaps him on the back, prompting Sasuke to glare at him. “Beat that, losers!” Kakashi smiles and casts his eye towards Sakura behind him, so Sasuke turns, brows furrowed again. She’s pulling a white container out of her bag, now in her lap, and then sliding it on the countertop next to Naruto’s gift.

He can see now that it’s a first aid kit. He looks back to her, meeting green eyes and slightly tinged cheeks. “I thought there might be some things you didn’t have, after traveling for so long.”

This is odd, because all ninja travel with a rudimentary first aid kit at the bare minimum, and Sakura of all people knows this; it’s an occupational hazard and frankly foolish not to. He stares at it as if it is a riddle, trying to figure out what could possibly be inside. Perhaps medicine or painkillers? Even those come in standard first aid kits for ninja, though. A hefty stock of food pills? He supposes he could take those on missions with him, if needed.

He’s sure both Kakashi and Naruto are thinking the same thing, but they don’t comment on it.

Finally, he responds, meeting her eyes, “Thank you.” He’ll open it later, when he’s alone, to see what’s actually in it. She really didn’t need to get him anything.

Her smile grows wider, and her eyes catch the light, gilded fervor that he thinks he could drown in. “You’re welcome.” After a beat, she glances at Kakashi, so Sasuke tears his irises away from flashing jade iridescent with metallic lambency and turns, too. When he does, he sees that Kakashi’s bowl is now empty. He tries to resist an annoyed twitch; he doesn’t know how he keeps pulling this off, after so many years.

Then his old sensei reaches into his vest and pulls out what appears to be a frame; it must have been tucked there this whole time, for safekeeping, out of sight.

When he reaches past Naruto to gift it to him, Sasuke realizes it’s their original Team Seven picture, in the frame he saw sitting on Kakashi’s desk the other day.

His eyes sting as it’s pressed into his hand, thoughts of mask hypervigilance forgotten in an instant in favor of an overwhelming sense of plenary peace and belonging. There is a small inner voice emanating from a house lined with dark wood and darker penchants, gnawing and protesting that he is deeply undeserving, but he extinguishes it for now, just for tonight; the world is not going to end because Kakashi gave him a picture rife with memories. Fighting to remain detached is what got him into trouble in the first place.

Sasuke blinks a few times, and a paper-thin layer of sediment peels away, messy and getting everywhere, like the wrapping paper he tried to collect earlier to avoid a similar problem. Then he utters, “Thank you,” quietly, but loud enough for all three of them to hear.

“No problem. I can get another copy developed from the village archives for my desk,” Kakashi replies, smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”

Time passes somehow both quickly and slowly. The four of them sit there for well over another hour, visiting casually about topics that aren’t as heavy as perplexing poisons. Sasuke moreso listens than genuinely communicates, but he comments every now and then.

Naruto chatters about an elaborate date he’s going to take Hinata on when she gets back to the village, involving feeding ducks at her favorite pond. Sakura mentions that he should bring cinnamon rolls, because that is Hinata’s favorite treat, and Naruto exclaims that he knows, but he also asks Teuchi for a pen to write a reminder on his hand, so he doesn’t forget to pick them up the day after tomorrow when she’s supposed to get back.

Kakashi mentions how he’s supposed to be getting some new mission requests in on Monday morning, so he might have something for Sasuke by then; the dobe is indignant when it doesn’t also include him, and launches into another five minute whining session.

Sakura tells a story about Sai and a misunderstanding involving an order of art supplies that she heard from Ino that morning; apparently, Ino works at the hospital on occasion, both to do some part-time medic duties and to help Sakura, which Sasuke was unaware of. Naruto shudders when Sakura brings up Sai, Ino, and art supplies; Sasuke gets the distinct impression that there is a story there, but doesn’t ask.

It is a little after eight when Kakashi mentions quite astutely that everyone is probably tired and should get going. Naruto laughs mischievously, then, meeting Sasuke’s eyes.

“Teme, what do ya say to all of us going out for a drink or two after this? There’s a fun place just down the road from here.”

Sasuke blinks, because that sounds objectively terrible on any night, let alone a Saturday, and it is not the first time since his return to the village that Naruto has mentioned going to drink; he really wants to get him drunk for some reason. Even though Kakashi has just said they should wrap it up, he looks at Sasuke as if waiting for a response anyways, as though he would actually go with them if they all chose to.

“Can’t. I have plans.”

Naruto huffs and grumbles under his breath about the plans probably involving training or reading or watching his laundry air dry. “Alright, alright. But you can’t escape it forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to accept.”

Sasuke smirks, then. “If you can beat me in a spar, I’ll go. Dobe.”

A fire has been lit in blue eyes. “You’re ON.”

Kakashi then sets enough money on the counter for all four of them, at which point they all begin to stand. Sasuke and Sakura both say thank you, but Naruto begins protesting that if he knew he was buying, he would have eaten more. Kakashi smiles cryptically. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. The Hokage position pays lucratively, but I know from experience you’ll eat me out of house and home.”

Naruto and Kakashi wave goodbye and set out to the west, in the general direction of their respective residences. Sasuke and Sakura both watch them go with something like amusement; he can hear Naruto complaining until he’s halfway down the street, which is a feat, because this area of town is still quite busy.

He turns to the gifts and stacks them carefully in preparation to leave, finally; they are all flat, so they’ll be easy enough to carry. They really didn’t need to get him anything... but he is appreciative, gaze lingering on them for a little longer than an instant.

Sakura is smiling at him when he turns to her, weight shifted to the side casually. “Do you want to drop those off first, or bring them with you?”

Sasuke thinks of the time; he still doesn’t know when she usually goes to sleep. “...I can bring them with.”

Her lips quirk upwards more, and she nods. They start walking east, him gripping the gifts carefully.

The moon has risen a bit higher in the sky by now; the streets appear much like a desaturated dreamscape, cloaking everything in a layer of alleviation. They pass under street lights casting flaxen ambiance, as well as other smaller hints of glow from various lit-up signage, tinctorial flashes washing over them both occasionally, only to be rinsed clean as they pass into astronomical dusk again. Sakura’s hair is surprisingly reflectant, brief notes of neons catching atop pale pink: electric blue, candy red, apple green.

“Naruto’s going to hold you to that bet, you know,” Sakura pipes up to his right once they’ve made it a block away, tilting her head upwards, expression soaked with mirth.

“Tch. Don’t remind me.” She laughs a little in response. It’s a lovely sound, dulcet in his ears.

They’re coming up on a bar that appears to be pretty crowded, people spilling out onto the street outside. Wordlessly, they both change course to cross to the other side of the street, avoiding the gathering of people, for which he is appreciative; he’s still not much one for crowds. They’re almost to the main stretch of road where they’ll turn south to go to Sakura’s; just two more blocks and the people should disperse a bit.

As they cross, Sakura informs him, “I’m pretty sure that’s the one he was talking about, by the way.”

“...Great,” He murmurs, frowning. He really doesn’t drink often. A place like that wouldn’t do much to encourage him to.

“It’s not so bad, if you go on a weeknight. Less people.”

He considers, then questions, “...Have you gone drinking with him?”

She averts her eyes, as if she’s a little embarrassed. “A few times... Usually it’s for celebrations, though, not just us. Birthdays, that sort of thing. I’ve gone with Ino more.” She ponders for a bit longer, as if shuffling through memories. “I guess I’ve gone with him and Kakashi-sensei a couple of times, though we don’t always go to that one. Once we went with Tsunade-shishou to that casino.”

Sasuke is pretty sure he knows the answer to his next question, but he asks it anyway. “...Is he any good at gambling?”

A short but rich giggle blooms from her throat that makes his lip twitch upwards. “No. His betting history is just as bad as shishou. He’s worse at baccarat than she is, actually, which is quite an accomplishment. She hadn’t won in a long time, before she beat him.”

It stands to reason that Naruto would be bad at table games, but the fact that he’s bad at arguably one of the easiest ones to learn amuses him more than it should. “...Will probably be awhile before I get dragged with him, then.”

“Probably,” Sakura agrees.

They turn south towards her apartment, and sure enough, the people milling about in the streets begin to thin. Being a Saturday night, there are more lights on than usual around this time, but they’ve arrived into an area of town that doesn’t really cater to a night crowd like bars do; the lit windows here are mostly residential.

Plants are continuing to unfurl everywhere in Konoha, though the rain tomorrow will probably be good for them. It stands to reason that it will get even more lush, after; perennials are starting to bud back to life, soon to join the annuals already adorning most buildings’ exteriors and windowsills. There’s a breeze picking up tonight, too, slightly shuffling leaves and the fabric of awnings attached to the buildings they walk past, a quiescent whispering that seemingly drowns out the usual sound of crickets. It might be cold enough for soup tomorrow; he’s looking forward to it.

Sakura notices, too. “Kakashi was right; everything is greening up. The rain will do some good tomorrow; we haven’t had some in a bit.”

“...Probably,” he echoes her words from earlier. Her hair is fluttering a little in the wind, too, eye-catching and gossamery. Sasuke wonders if it’s still soft like silk. He had accidentally felt it several times, on various missions when they were younger.

They reach her building, and she noiselessly opens the glass door for him. Sasuke steps aside so she can pass after she shuts it behind them. Then he’s following her up the stairway, something like anticipation unfurling in him, much like the greenery he noticed on the way here.

Sakura unlocks her door, glancing back at him for a moment with her hand lingering on the doorknob. Then she turns to push it open, and he trails behind her carefully.

He follows her into a small enclosed area - a dedicated entryway - with a threshold straight ahead leading into the rest of the space. It is dim until Sakura flips on the light of a compact but surprisingly luminous lamp to their right, and he sees that the entryway area itself is painted the color of pale cream. The floor beneath them is aged wood, light in color, that appears to extend into the rest of the dwelling. A single wall-mounted shelf floats to the left that holds several multifarious storage containers: one woven, one white, one that looks like an antiquated rice basket. Out of the top of the last one peeks the well-worn handle of a spade; it must be gardening supplies. Beneath the shelf are hooks studded to the wall; Sakura is stepping towards them to shrug off her bag and hang it from one of them, next to a green jacket and a red and pink coat with fur trim.

There is a console table made of aged wood that near matches the shelf - white oak, he thinks, because it’s not as richly colored as normal oak - to the right. It might be an antique; it is close in color and stain to the flooring, though not an exact match. Her fiction book from the other day sits atop it, a bookmark protruding from around halfway through its pages; he assumes she must keep any non-work-related library books there, when she’s not reading them. Beneath the table is a patterned rug in neutral tones, on which rest a small collection of sandals that are not entirely lined up straight, as well as a pair of green rainboots. It is the only part of the entryway that does not appear overly organized.

Sasuke begins to toe off his sandals as Sakura does, too. She crosses over to the table and opens up one of the drawers, placing her lanyard of keys inside. “You can set your gifts here, if you’d like,” she offers helpfully, gesturing to the table and sounding almost shy, so he does. He turns to grab his sandals and sets them neatly on the rug beneath the table.

She reaches beyond the enclosing wall to the other side, flipping what must be a lightswitch; the rest of the overhead lights in the next area of space flood on. She angles her head back towards him, shifting her weight to the side a little. “I’m afraid it won’t be as long of a tour as Naruto’s.”

It’s small, but cozy. They step into an open space with a wall trailing to the right and openness extending to the left, which houses her living room. The ceilings are high for an apartment this size; it makes it feel bigger. Two towering bookshelves line the west and south walls, and a small dining table sits in front of the window on the north end, over which hangs a simple but worn pendant light, sap green in color; it is reminiscent of the kinds one usually sees at indoor markets. Between the two spaces lies a comfortable-looking sage green couch, classic but also well-worn, placed in front of a small entertainment center. He notices that the furniture pieces are all of slightly different construction, not a matching set, though the colors of everything are very similar to the flooring. On top of the surfaces are various decorative knick knacks: little glass jars in varied colors with dried flowers, another lamp, a candle. The entire open area is painted a pale, pale desaturated viridian; Sasuke likes the color. From what he can see of the room past the expanse of wall to their right, it is painted a different color - linen white.

“Sai and Ino helped me with the paint colors when I moved in.” She pauses. “Well, Sai helped. Ino mostly just helped narrow down color selection. It needed painting anyways; my landlady said I could do pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t black or something.” She walks over to the lamp on the end table by the sofa, and switches it on. Then she wanders over to switch the pendant light over the table on, too.

Sasuke nods, still absorbing. There is an expanse of framed photos to his right, on the space leading up to what must be the kitchen. There are many, leading all the way down the wall, arranged in more of a collage fashion than straight across. He scans them quickly, and is surprised to see that their original Team Seven photo isn't among them. He knows it must be elsewhere in her apartment; she is too sentimental to not have it displayed somewhere. It makes him consider where he’s going to put the one Kakashi has given him.

“The layout is kind of unique,” Sakura continues, walking back towards him through the living room area. “There’s not really room for a dining table in the kitchen, so that table over there-” She motions towards where she just was, in front of the north window, “-is used for that. It’s kind of nice, that way; you can look out the window when you eat.” Sasuke notes upon further inspection that there are a few small plants sitting in the window there, similar coloring to the ones on her doorstep. A thriving jasmine plant is hung higher up, against the glass, fronds twisting downwards. He finds he can picture Sakura eating there easily.

Sakura crosses over into what he assumes is the kitchen; he follows, and notes as he does so that there is a faint aroma of tea, though it is a challenge to place the flavor. It’s simple, but with nice floor to ceiling white cabinetry, aside from a single area in the corner where there is open shelving of the same wood finish, as well as a window on the east wall, over the sink. This one appears to be lined with a small herb garden, more mismatched terracotta pots perched in the windowsill. The countertops here are also wood, in a similar colorway as the rest of the wood he’s seen so far. Most of what’s stored on the open shelving appears to be general dry goods, flour and sugar and oatmeal in clear containers. There is also a fern-colored teapot, decorated with a white floral design, sitting on the end of the shelf for easiest access; she must make tea often. There is a knife set on the counter, as well as a few ceramic containers holding various utensils such as whisks and wooden spoons. Nothing appears out of place, and there are no dishes in the sink; she must keep it pretty tidy. In the only empty corner, there is what he assumes is a pantry door, as well as a small wooden stool. He realizes then that she must not be tall enough to reach the top of the cupboards.

“Sai said keeping it a lighter color would make it look bigger. I think it helps. It’s pretty nice, otherwise.” She glances at him, then away, slightly flushed as if she’s nervous. He realizes, reciprocally, that he is kind of nervous, too, being in her space with her alone.

“Not much left but the hallway,” she adds after a moment, leading him out of the kitchen and further, to a hallway leading east. There are three doors towards the end of it; one to the left, one in the middle, and one to the right. Two of the three are sitting open; the small room straight ahead holds a stacked washer and dryer, as well as cabinets that match the ones in the kitchen. Once he follows her a few more steps, he sees a hamper, as well. The walls appear to be painted a lilac color in the laundry room, slightly darker in hue than the rest of her space thus far. The flooring is different, too, in the laundry room; a white tile, inlaid with a touch of black sparingly in a symmetrical pattern. The style of it is very in tune with the age of the building, reminiscent of an older time.

“Left door is the bedroom.” She gestures towards the closed door, then points to the next one. “Middle is the laundry room; that’s also where I keep any cleaning stuff, like the broom or mop.” She nods then towards the bathroom, so he steps closer to peer inside; it is painted a light sand color, with the same white tile accented with black, only here it also goes halfway up the wall. “And that’s the bathroom.” The same white cabinets appear here, too. It has a tub/shower combination, and a plain white shower curtain. It appears spotlessly clean. A window lies above the sink on the east wall, with another hanging plant dangling in front of it, towards the corner so it’s not in full light all of the time; it looks like a satin pothos. There is also a small wicker stool, on which are folded powder-white towels, and a small glass tabletop lamp, an interesting statement in a bathroom.

He remembers that there are three lamps she’s turned on already. She must not like hard lighting. He tries to resist the urge to smile, because neither does he.

“It’s nice,” he compliments as they make their way back to the living room area. It’s more than nice; he really likes it. Everything about it is as her as he expected it to be, more of a home than an apartment, eclectic combinations painting a picture very indicative of the life she lives here. Sasuke muses that it is especially characteristic of her that she would like different colors throughout the rooms, and that the colors fit their respective spaces well. He finds himself wondering what color she selected for her room, what color she deemed the most calming, though obviously he would never ask.

A deep blush inks it way onto her skin, and she smiles, seeming very pleased. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” Her gaze flits away, then back again. “Would you want to maybe watch something? I could make some tea, decaf, if you’d like.”

He nods.

“Okay; I can show you what I have.”

They go back into the kitchen. She opens one of the cabinets, the one nearest the teapot; the entire bottom shelf is filled with packaged tea, labeled jars of loose leaf, sugar, and a container of honey. The shelf above it contains teacups that match the teapot, and more jars of loose leaf, though these ones are labeled caffeine free. There are a few small boxes of packaged tea there, too; she must sort them separately based on caffeine content. The third shelf contains a few miscellaneous mugs and glasses. It’s quite a collection; he understands the mixed aromatics of different tea flavors he noticed earlier. It’s unique, enjoyable without being overwhelming, small hints of sweet spice and citrus drifting into the kitchen space more now that the cabinet door is ajar.

“Most of my packaged teas have more specific flavors, desserts and things like that,” Sakura mentions. “For loose leaf, I’ve got quite a few; caffeine-free ones are oolong, chamomile, lemon ginger, jasmine…” She shifts some of the jars to the side of the middle cabinet to reveal the ones behind it. “Silver needle, white coconut creme, Earl Grey, caramelized pear…”

“...Earl Grey sounds good,” Sasuke murmurs, moving slightly out of the way. She tips her head in acknowledgment before pulling that jar down, then reaching for the teapot.

“I’ll make some; I like Earl Grey at night. Do you want any cream or lemon or anything like that in yours? I have some in the fridge.” She moves to start the water boiling, removing the strainer from the teapot before she fills it. After it’s on the stove, she begins sifting loose leaf from the jar into the strainer so it’s ready.

“...Lemon would be good.” He likes adding lemon to Earl Grey; it makes it more tart. He feels like he should help, so he adds, “I’ll get it. Do you want cream in yours?”

Jade eyes flick to his, and her cheeks color a little. “...Yes. It’s on the top shelf of the door. There’s…” She pauses, as if embarrassed. “There’s normal creamer there too, but I have a coconut milk sweet cream that I like with mine. Just a little bit. It’s… meant for coffee, but…” When he smiles knowingly back, she looks away, back towards the teapot.

He opens the fridge; it’s extremely well-stocked. He doesn’t hover too long before he reaches to grab a lemon and the creamer she mentioned from the door’s upper shelf, but he notes there is a large container of strawberry topping on the top shelf towards the front, as well as a clear container with what may be banana nut muffins. She really does have a sweet tooth, he thinks, amused.

He shuts the door, and she procures a small cutting board from another cupboard and a knife to slice the lemon into wedges. She’s also grabbed two teacups, the ones that match the teapot.

“Thank you.” She’s smiling as he sets down the lemon and the creamer. “I can finish making this, if you want to maybe pick what we watch?”

“...What would you like to watch?”

Sakura blinks. “I’m honestly fine with anything. I’ve got some movies in the cabinet of the entertainment center… Otherwise I have cable to flip through, too.”

She must not go to bed too early, since she mentioned movies. He decides to ask. “...When do you usually go to bed?”

Something in her eyes softens. “Usually ten or eleven. It’s my weekend now, though, so I can stay up late, if you pick something longer.”

He nods, and she turns to slice the lemon halves into quarters, so he pads back to her living room. When he opens the cabinet below the television, he finds it nearly filled to the brim with movies. He settles down to siphon through them, skimming through various synopses. He comes across five or six shoved to the corner of one side haphazardly; those must be the ‘bad’ movies she watches with Ino. The rest of them that he finds sound fairly interesting. He ultimately picks one called A Tale of Archery; the summary makes it sound like a period drama with a twist. As he sits there, he tries to remember the last time he watched a movie; it was probably after he returned to Konoha but before he left for his journey, a rather stupid one with Naruto in his old apartment.

This one should be better. He hopes, brows furrowed, that it’s one she likes; he assumes she must like most of them, given that she owns them.

Sasuke stands with it as Sakura comes out with the tea, cups placed on small plates with dainty teaspoons. “Oh, that’s a good one,” she mentions. His heart flutters, and he feels a little less nervous. He puts it into the player on the next shelf before standing as she sets her plate and cup on her coffee table.

“Thank you,” he says softly when she hands him his, two slices of lemon perched on the side.

She smiles at him, dimple appearing, before grabbing the remote and flicking on the television so it starts setting up. “Do you mind if I shut off the overhead lights? I’m... not much one for hard lighting.”

“Not at all.” The space will be well-lit without it, with the lamps.

He takes a seat on the sofa while she walks over near the entryway. Sasuke realizes now that the couch isn’t terribly big; probably just enough for one person to lie down on, if they wanted to. It’s comfortable, as he’d anticipated. He sets his plate and cup on her coffee table so he can squeeze the lemon wedge into it, grabbing the spoon to stir as the overhead lights go out.

With the lights off, it is very cozy.

Sakura takes a seat next to him, not too close, but not the furthest away she could be, either. She fast forwards through the opening portion of advertisements as he stirs.

By the time he brings the cup to his lips to take a sip, the opening credits are playing. She sets down the remote and stirs her own cup once more, before also taking a sip.

It’s good; flavorful but not too intense, with a hint of bergamot orange rind and maltiness. The lemon gives it a slightly more acidic twist. He’s not much one for creamer, unless he’s in a rare mood on a cold fall or winter day, but he can see how the coconut milk sweet cream would compliment the taste, if one liked sweet things.

“It’s good,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes for a moment.

She glows at the compliment; he can make out a blush in the dim lighting. He feels his own neck heat up.

The movie is pretty good. It tells the story of a bygone feudal era a long time ago, peasants and samurai and daimyos with estates sprawling across countrysides lined with rice paddies. An archer passes away, and his son follows in his footsteps and becomes respected competitively. The twist is that the father actually went into hiding, and returns at the end of the movie.

It’s close to eleven when it’s over. Their teacups sit on her coffee table, long emptied.

Sasuke feels very content, and a little loath to leave, if he’s being honest. She seems slightly tired when she meets his eyes, though, so he slowly stands and reaches for his plate and cup. She does the same, and he trails after her to the kitchen, following her lead; she empties the lemon rinds into the garbage, so he does too. She then rinses her cup clean in the sink, extending her hand for his after.

“...What time should I come over tomorrow?” He asks in a hushed tone, when she turns to him. He’s not sure if the walls are thin or not, and they’re in the kitchen, so it’s not against her neighbors’ unit or anything, but he still somehow feels he should speak quietly; it’s somewhat dark, dimly lit only by cast light from the lamp in the other room.

Her countenance changes to one of consideration. “I was thinking maybe around eleven? I should have lunch ready around then.” Her eyes flicker to his, and her lips curve upwards; he tries not to look at them too long. “If that’s okay.”

He nods. “I’ll be here, then.”

Her lips curve upwards more. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she offers softly. He turns, and she follows.

“Do you like avocado?” She asks him as they shuffle into her entryway, where he stoops to retrieve his shoes. “I was… thinking about making avocado grilled cheese, to go with the soup.”

He glances upwards. “...I do.” He’s never had a grilled cheese sandwich with avocado before, but it sounds like it would taste good. He wonders again what kind of soup she’ll make; she knows his food preferences well, and she hasn’t asked, so it must be something she knows he’ll like. It makes his heart flip behind his ribcage a little.

“Oh, good. I’ll make that, then.” Her eyes drop down to her feet for a second as he rises back to his full height, sandals situated; it’s hard to tell in the lack of light, just the one lamp turned on in here, but he’s pretty sure she’s blushing again.

Her next words are near a whisper. “Thank you for… hanging out.” Multi-faceted jade seeps into him again, seafoam ebbing around dark pupils. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, after yearning for it for so long. “I had a nice time.”

He takes a quiet step closer to her, heart suddenly twisting in his chest as he tries to swallow his nerves, because she looks so happy, and it’s making his breath get stuck inside his lungs.

“...Me, too,” he whispers, barely audible before his lips brush hers gently.

It feels different, kissing her in the privacy of her apartment rather than on her doorstep. It’s like they can finally take their time, no real chance of interruption. His mind comes up with the word intimate, and his neck warms. Her mouth is all plush affection, bergamot and lemon and a subtle sweetness, stirred, that isn’t too much, accented by berry. It makes him want to try all of the varieties she has in her cabinet, even the sweet ones, just to see what they taste like on her lips in the hours that follow.

Delicate hands brush his shoulders, fingertips skimming the lower part of his neck, subtle beckoning but also gentle, respectful of boundaries, so he decides to corrode, give in and do something that he has wanted to do for a very long time. He cups her cheek with his hand, careful and barely there, gingerly sweeping a thumb over flushed skin, gliding atop a freckle that rests further back on her cheekbone. He’s had it memorized since they were kids.

The strands of pink he inadvertently touches are as soft as he remembers.

Her face is ablaze when they draw back from each other, tender smile and viridescent eyes laced with ardency just for him. Warmth pools in his belly as he studies her, decay long soothed and forgotten as he carefully strokes her cheek once more before he pulls away.

“...Good night, Sakura.”

The dimple makes one last appearance for the evening. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

XXX

Sasuke opens the first aid kit upon his return to his apartment, having been curious about what was in it all evening. Vines grasp his heartstrings as he discovers what’s inside.

There are two jars of loose leaf sencha tea that he’s sure came from the tea place they’d visited together a few days ago; one is labeled caffeinated, the other decaffeinated. Along with it is a basic tea infuser, new in its package. There are also three blue packages of cough drops, mentho-lyptus flavor, so they won’t be sweet.

Jade irises, he thinks, are also mollifying, for when the corrosion is done, an aether easily risen into, floating to the top.

Sasuke brews a mug of the jar labeled decaffeinated to enjoy before he goes to bed, a helpful succedaneum with which to conclude an evening well spent. It's not exactly the same shade of green, he thinks, before taking it to his living room so he can look out his window as he savors it, but it's close.

[megabees]

On Pike, Yasha, and Ashley Johnson

so i don’t see a lot of meta surrounding yasha or pike, and while i understand a lot of it does stem from Ashley’s absences on the show, I think there are a lot of similarities between Pike and Yasha and I want to talk about them, as a noted Pike and Yasha stan. this is inspired by meta posts by @c-is-for-circinate​ and @your-turn-to-role​, and i want to just mention that all their metas are great. 

(if you aren’t here for my long meta (and it is long), the TLDR is that Ashley explores interesting things in both her characters, such as how leaving/being left behind affects you, the idea that you can be both soft and hard at the same time, and unknown faith in a higher power, and how we don’t give her enough credit on that)

One of my biggest regrets about Pike is that with Ashley at Blindspot, we didn’t get to see her have the character arc that I feel like she deserved. Playlists for Pike include exploration of her anxiety, the feelings that she is always the one being left behind and that she is too busy tending the hearth to be able to be there for her family, being torn between doing battle and healing (much harder when you’re the only cleric, rather than Jester’s Battle Mercy vibe), and her feelings towards both Scanlan and Percy. 

Those are a lot of nuanced feelings, and I think while Ashley wanted to explore them, she was robbed of some of the ability to do so by Blindspot. Due to this, I think occasionally she falls victim to the fandom trope of forgetting that a character can be complex, and that happens even in the show. Characters like Vax, Keyleth and Percy all come to her with their problems, and she takes their problems, hints at her own, but they are never unpacked. I think a prime example of this comes in Episode 54 of campaign 1, in the conversation following Vax’s trip to the Raven Queen Temple. Keyleth comes to Pike, as she’s confused by Vax and the Raven Queen, and the following conversation ensues. 

Keyleth: I guess I just - I've always respected you and looked up to you, and... you're a cleric of Sarenrae, but you still seem to be very much in control of your life and your destiny, and you seem to know where you're going. 

Pike: It's okay. I feel like maybe I just look that way, because I don't feel like I have much of anything together, or know where I'm going. 

-brief break to talk about Vax and the Raven Queen and how much we hate the Raven Queen-

Keyleth: Would you say you haven't fully given yourself to Sarenrae? 

Pike:(hesitantly) I think I try to, but there's always that little part of me that thinks... or has doubt? So I don't know. 

Pike is in doubt! About her gods, about her destiny, (about the fact that she’s developing feelings for Scanlan and losing them for Percy), but we never explore that! And then Ashley has to go back and we have to fight some dragons and then Scanlan LEAVES, and she’s mad about that, and heartbroken. Remember those issues about being left while everyone else goes off? That factors into why she was so mad at Scanlan. He may have idolized her and hit on her relentlessly, but he made sure to check in on her and her well being, and he grew up once he had a daughter.  

Above all, Pike is a healer, and a devoted one at that. She’s loyal, and she’s kind and she puts others in front of her at all times. But it’s hard to do that all of the time, and it makes her get walked on sometimes. I love VM, but Pike is swayed easily by them, and they don’t talk to her about it as much as they should. (there’s some interesting meta to be done here about the way clerics are treated as not having their own problems and how they tend to repress rather than address, in both the MN and VM, but that’s for another time). She’s painfully aware of each time VM leaves her behind, and how her service stops her from helping her friends. 

On the other hand, Yasha’s exploration looks at how leaving can hurt your friends. She’s off to wherever the Stormlord calls her, but she doesn’t always provide that closure to her friends of where she’s going or how long she will be gone. In a way, the inverse of Pike. It’s explained as “oh that’s just what she does” by Molly in the very beginning, but when Yasha is taken by Obann, it is taken to a whole new level. 

Yasha joins Obann, and she does hurt her friends. She’s forced to kill the Cobalt Soul. She almost kills Beau in the cathedral. She hurts Fjord below the earth. For a while, she is gone and she is hurting innocent people, and that affects her emotional state. How is she supposed to gain these people’s trust back, especially after they are used to her not sticking around? I think this is one of the main reasons (other than Blindspot ending) that Yasha sticks around after the Cathedral. Ashley says in her first playlist that “She realizes it’s better to keep a safe distance from those you care about. It’s better not to care. Leave in the night. Search for more answers. Leave, because where she’s going, she can’t be saved anyway.” This is Yasha’s attitude up until she is let back into the MN after almost killing Beau. They are still kind to her. They pull her up from the depths. In the second playlist, Ashley writes “The Mighty Nein had compassion for her and took her back in, even after almost killing Beau. They showed her love. But forgiving yourself takes a lot more time…In life, it’s so much easier to punish yourself for mistakes than it is to forgive. But sometimes, SOMETIMES, love makes it through the cracks. The greatest balm for certain wounds, for healing, is love and acceptance.” 

Yasha is learning how to let people in, to let herself be taken care of and to take care of others. She is learning how to reconcile the soft parts of her with the hard. That’s the other thing so compelling about Ashley’s characters. Both Yasha and Pike play with the juxtaposition between hard and soft, between strong, loud, angry with timid, quiet, kind. Pike is “a MONSTAH.” She’s small, but she’s tough. A healer, but one who would rather be hitting. Yasha is big, but she’s so tender. A tank, but one who heals immediately. There are no shortage of incredible female characters in CR, but the way that Ashley creates characters who don’t play to type shows me that she knows how to mix up her characters for conflict. A tenderhearted, mild barbarian and a tough, bold cleric provide an inherent contrast within their characters which allows for a more tangible personage. 

In addition, Pike and Yasha both find themselves perplexed by the gods, but leading with unwavering faith. The Stormlord saved Yasha. He plucked her from a rage and reminded her of who she was. Sarenrae saved Pike. She was in a family who had an unfavorable reputation, and she was reunited with Wilhand, who gave her a relationship with Sarenrae and Grog. These interceedings from the gods produce an unrelenting faith, even when it’s hard, and move both Pike and Yasha to a higher mission of growth. 

In summary, Pike and Yasha are incredibly complex characters, and with a brief peek behind the curtain, we can see the ways that they’re similar. Ashley plays quiet sometimes, but her scenes in which she’s in control are spectacular, and her characters are as well. She bides her time, and she knows her characters well, what makes them tick and how they would react to certain situations. It’s a pity we didn’t get more time with Pike, but I’m looking forward to seeing where she takes Yasha. 

[rohad93]

Green Thumbs

It started with a few tiny, golden, colored flowers that Blue had given her on a return trip from one of her former colonies that had needed her intervention in dismantling some of the more complicated systems. 

It had long petals that tapered into near razor-sharp points and nearly matched the hue of the glimmering gem in her chest. 

She’d accepted the gift with thanks and a look that no doubt spelled out her confusion to her partner. At least she assumed by the way Blue laughed quietly at her under her breath with that fond look that seemed to be reserved only for her, different from the look she would gaze at Steven or Spinel with. 

“They reminded me of you.” was the simple explanation for the plant. If nothing else, that made her hold the tiny organic fauna all the tighter.  

Later she had placed the flowers in her personal rooms and would look at them often, but within a few rotations, they had started to sag down, their brilliantly colored leaves beginning to wrinkle and coil at the edges. 

She reached out and ran her fingers gently over the petals that had begun to pucker and shrivel and frowned.

Her knowledge of regular organic life was limited, except for ways to destroy it. In terms of fauna, she knew even less, but she did know someone who was more than knowledgeable on the subject. 

The diamond line didn’t ring long before the youngest diamond appeared on screen, surprised by her call no doubt. 

She held the plant up for him to inspect and explained the situation.

“A gift from Blue, huh?” He smiled knowingly and Yellow only huffed but didn’t argue.

Steven was happy to explain how to keep the plant alive, even sending her several digital copies about how to care for all manner of plants. He wasn’t confident it would survive though since his area of expertise was earth plant life and this had come from a faraway star system he had never even heard of, but hopefully, the same principles would apply.

She watered it and it did perk back up after a few cycles, color, and plumpness returning to its soft petals and stems.

Yellow smiled to herself as she ran a gentle hand over the reinvigorated petals and then couldn’t help but notice how empty the large shelf looked with the single plant sitting on it.

Which was really how it started.

That one plant eventually became two and three and before she knew it Yellow’s rooms had become a veritable garden of plants and flowers that ranged from every size shape and color imaginable, even having stepped shelving build into the room to hold the plethora of fauna that now took up so much of the once cavernous space. 

Since most of the plants had come from far off places in the galaxy Steven’s advice on caring for them could only take her so far, instead, she dove into her extensive library of notes about every planet that she took a plant from, careful to only take plants that lived on worlds that had similar atmospheric conditions to Homeworld after the first plant that all but exploded after only a few cycles on the planet’s surface.

Apparently, unlike the gems that were created out of these plants’ mineral resources, the organic life was a bit more… sensitive. Something she kept in mind, carefully monitoring each new addition to her growing greenhouse for a while after its introduction, though she found the word to be lacking as there was a plethora of colors now splattered through the room, though if she were honest with herself, there was more than a handful of blue and pink toned plants and flowers dotting the room. 

She didn’t need to look too deeply into what that meant. She was nothing if not self-aware.

Even with Steven and Spinel to help fill the void, there were times when her gem ached fiercely at the sight of anything with those bright magenta hues, but as sharp as that pain sometimes was, it was more often than not a dull warmness. A fleeting thought, and sometimes not so fleeting, at how pleased Pink would be with everything as it was now.

Yellow snorted to herself as she gazed down at a plump, blush-colored flower with an uncountable amount of tiny layered petals making it up, even as that pain tried to ignite itself in her core.

The once smallest diamond would have been absolutely beside herself to see the three of them now, perhaps herself especially. 

Tearing her gaze away from the plants in question, her eyes immediately found what she might say was her personal favorite. 

A flower from a faraway world on the edges of the once empire

It’s six nearly symmetrical petals were a pale almost violet color at the center, darkening toward the tips into rich cobalt, where they the curled ever so gently under.

They were small, considering all the plants around her that dwarfed them in size and grandeur, but it fit in the palm of her hand and the deep, complex colors and simple beauty reminded her so much of Blue that she’d planted a number of them to make up for their lack of size and presence. 

While she could visit her counterpart anytime she wished Yellow still had many things to make up for and an immeasurable amount of damage to fix as far as shattered gems and her experiments were concerned, such as the cluster, luckily she had an eternity to correct it, in fact she often lost track of the time and Spinel was forced to come and fetch her when she had worked past an appointment time.

She could spend long amounts of time at her desk, carefully piecing together even the smallest nearly microscopic shards until she had a whole gem. Sometimes though, she just didn’t have all the pieces. Those were not good days. Those were days she would have to walk away, with the air crackling with the unspoken threat of an electrical storm. 

Today was just such a day. 

She had gone through every bubble in her possession and couldn’t find the last pieces she needed to fix the gem she was currently working on. These bubbles had been early, smaller prototypes of the cluster, so none the gems here were part of the cluster, meaning that the pieces she needed were simply gone, lost.

A frustrated noise worked its way out of her throat as she carefully placed the incomplete gemstone, with its jagged, splintered edges back in her bubble and looked at it for a long moment before setting it specifically to the other side of the room, where several other similar gems sat, incomplete, for always. 

A grim reminder that while she could work nonstop till Homeworld ceased to exist, that she would never be able to completely erase all the mistakes she had made, nor fix all the pain she had caused. 

The longer she stared at her failures the more energy began to burn and sizzle across her skin in little sparks but then in jumping arcs or brilliant yellow light.

Her jaw set and electricity buzzed around her closed fists. She turned, ready to unleash the pent up energy when the sight of all the vibrant plants helped her reign it in, as one wrong placed firing of her powers could send the whole room up in a blaze and she had worked much too hard carefully cultivating all the fauna to let her temper send it all up in flames within mere moments. 

She lowered her raised hand and sighed, letting her powers fizzle out as quickly as they had reared their head.

She could still feel the pent up energy crackling beneath just beneath the surface and set about watering and pruning the plants, losing herself in the calming monotony of the tasks, much like when she put gems back together. The frustrated energy bleeding out with every snip of her tiny shears and pruning of a wilted leaf or flower as she knelt on the floor, the remains becoming ash nearly instantly in her hands.  

She became so engrossed in the task that she never heard the doors slide open with a quiet hiss, nor the quiet rustling of fabric.

"I very much like what you've done with your rooms." 

Yellow jerked, looking over her shoulder to find Blue, standing behind her, admiring all the plants that littered every available space that wasn’t needed for walking or working. 

“Blue! I didn’t hear you come in…” She stood, brushing any specs of soil, imaginary, or otherwise from her form. 

“So I noticed.” She smiled a hint of laughter in her voice. “It’s beautiful, Yellow. Whatever made you decide to take this up?”

“Thank you.” She set the shears down and clasped her hands behind her back. “It wasn’t something I planned…It just happened, I suppose.” Her eyes looked over the dozens of plants, easily finding the source of the indoor garden. Blue followed her gaze and saw what she was looking at. 

The golden flowered plant that she had given her nearly a month previously, a bright spot, nestled between two of Yellow’s favorite blue, flowering plants.

“Oh!” Blue walked quickly over to the plant and ran her fingers over the bright, healthy leaves. “You still have this?” She looked surprised and Yellow looked affronted.

“Of course,” she huffed. “I never dispose of a gift.”  

Blue leveled a long look at her and she scoffed.

“I never dispose of a gift from you,” she clarified, and Blue smiled.

“I know you don’t, but to be honest, I didn’t expect it to live this long,” 

She was doing her best not to laugh in the face of the scandalized look Yellow was now making. 

“I’m glad I was wrong though, and I very much like all the additions. It adds some much-needed cheer in here.” 

Yellow only grunted, turning to look at the flowers instead of Blue, who walked up beside the quiet gem, adamantly refusing to look at her and laid a gentle hand on her arm, stopping at her side.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, darling, only that caring and nurturing organic life is just so… different from what you did before it’s surprising is all. It is very beautiful,” she insisted.  

Yellow hummed in acknowledgment, diamond-shaped pupils finally sliding over to meet Blue’s, who smiled at her when she did, tightening her hold on the golden gems arm.

“Considering how adept she was at breathing life into all manner of things, I think Pink would be very proud of what you’ve done as well.” She hummed, laying her head on Yellow’s shoulder as she looked at all the brightly colored plants, eyes drawn to the brilliant fuchsia ones just behind the ones she had given Yellow.

A hand reached up to lay itself gently over the one she had curled around Yellow’s arm and she looked up to find golden eyes fixed on her. 

“I think she would be proud of all of us.” The tone left no room for argument and Blue only smiled, laying her head back on Yellow’s shoulder.

“Yes, I think you’re right.” 

[beauregardlionett]

don’t blame it on the kids

AO3 Link

Leaving felt like finally being able to take a clean breath after being stuck inside that house for the duration of that torturous reunion. Her parents were suffocating, the décor was suffocating, and their false kindness and hollow apologies were suffocating. Beau had come so, so close to losing her shit, to just snapping and tearing everything inside those rooms apart. Her friends at her back and her side had been helpful in presence, and while she wished just a little that they had spoken up on her behalf before she started crying, she didn’t fault them for being out of their depth. The majority of them came from broken families; they didn’t have experience with how to react when parents started humiliating their child in front of other people.

Releasing her friends from the hug she had pulled them into, Beau wiped at her eyes as subtly as possible and cracked a self-deprecating grin she hoped passed as cocky, gesturing for them to follow her.

“Let’s get out of this hell hole. We’ve got a witch to find.”

As they walked – not towards town but instead out towards the mountains – Beau let herself fall in at the back of the group, Jester and her spell leading the way. It wasn’t raining too hard anymore; instead it was more of a fine, never-ending mist. Beau tipped her face skyward and closed her eyes, let it wash over her and pretended it could hide her tears and wash away the evidence of how incapable she was of facing her parents.

They walked for a while longer before it got too dark and Fjord made the executive decision to set up camp for the night. Caleb set up the bubble at the base of a half dead tree, part of the trunk inside, meticulous as always. Beau flopped down at the outer edges with her back against the tree, waving off the others’ offers to take watch in her stead. She told them that she didn’t feel like sleeping yet, didn’t mind staying up for a little while.

She found herself unsurprised when twenty minutes later, everyone else was asleep and Caleb stood to pick his way over them and plop down at her side. He didn’t say anything, but Frumpkin the raven suddenly appeared on his arm in a strange blink of the eye kind of trick. He took a moment to scratch two fingers against the back of the bird’s neck before Frumpkin hopped his way over to perch on Beau’s shoulder and settle quite comfortably against the side of her head. His feathers were warm and soft and the raven let out a single, quiet crooning noise before going silent.

They sat like that for a while, Beau not watching their surroundings but instead switching between staring out to the middle distance and flitting her gaze over their sleeping companions. Caduceus’ rumbling snores were a little quieter than usual tonight, more like distant thunder than a storm directly overhead. Yasha seemed content sleeping beside him, and Beau’s lips quirked at the corner as she looked over them. Fjord had taken up position on the opposite side of the bubble, a barrier between anything outside and the rest of their friends. Nott was curled into the space near the curve of his stomach, not touching but clearly taking comfort in presence. Jester had somehow smushed her way rather creatively into the narrow space between Yasha and Nott, snoozing quite soundly as she splayed across the ground.

Everything about the atmosphere inside this little dome radiated with content, and Beau had never been so happy as to revel in it than she was right now.

This was home. This was her family.

“Beauregard,” Caleb’s voice was quiet at her shoulder, and it was only as she looked towards him (careful not to knock Frumpkin) that she realized her vision was blurred. “You are crying.”

She almost pulled out that former excuse, almost said “hayfever” or “allergies”, but something stopped her. Something in the lack of judgment in Caleb’s eyes, something in the set of his mouth, forced the honesty out of her in that moment.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” She let out a very soft breathy huff of a laugh, low and humorless. Reaching up to wipe her cheeks clean with a little more force than strictly necessary, Beau looked away from Caleb and tried to take a steady breath.

“I uhm…I cannot…say that-that I understand, because I do not,” Caleb fumbled heavily through his words, blatantly uncertain of where to place his feet so as not to step on a landmine. Beau stayed quiet and let him try to navigate whatever he was trying to say. She had learned through experience that it was better to let him parse his thoughts out, to slowly untangle what he wanted to say and usually find the correct phrase along the way.

“But I want you to know, we – all of us – are here for you. We obviously do not know…everything. That you have been through. But I for one…I do not wish to watch you suffer through this by yourself.”

Beau stayed quiet for a while longer, eventually reaching up to bury her fingers in the soft feathers at Frumpkin’s neck, earning a quiet noise from the raven at the gesture. Eventually though, she burrowed her way out from behind the walls she had built up and up and up and up and went to greet Caleb for his efforts.

“I never wanted to come back here,” Beau whispered, afraid to lift her voice above that volume for fear of being heard. “I wanted to put this place behind me, forget that I had family here that didn’t want me and move on. I wanted to erase the memory of my dad slapping me across the face the night the Cobalt Soul took me away, to burn the letter my mother sent me, to never have to see TJ’s face because I knew I’d look into those big, innocent eyes and want to keep him safe. But…here I am.”

Frumpkin pressed a little more into Beau’s absent scratching and she met the gesture with a little more attention to her ministrations. Caleb remained quiet and present, solid and reassuring, at her side.

“Do you think I should forgive them?” Beau eventually asked the silence around them, eyes on Jester’s splayed sleeping form. “My parents?”

“You are asking someone who…you know what I did to my parents. I would give…anything to have more time with them. But for you, as I said, I don’t know everything that has happened between you and them, so I don’t think I can necessarily tell you what the right answer is here.”

It was kind of the answer she was expecting, but it still didn’t help and Beau felt more lost and useless than ever.

“But…I can say,” Caleb continued suddenly, and Beau glanced sideways at the wizard, mildly surprised. “You do not seem…happy with them. And from what I gathered, they were justifying – poorly – mistakes they made and trying to blame you for reacting as you did. Which I can tell you is wrong on their end. You should not be blamed for doing what you did in a bad, complicated situation. Especially since you were a child at the time.”

She wasn’t sure how to reply to all of that. Somewhere, tangled messily with the younger version of herself that believed everything that had happened was her fault, the logical version of Beau was calling out that Caleb was right. The Beau she had cultivated on the road, the one she had wanted to become when she was years younger and full of hope for a life of adventure that would expand her family’s profit; that Beau was shouting at the top of her lungs that Caleb had hit the nail on the head.

“But,” and this was the weakest version of herself speaking, the child that had taken to heart the fact that her father and mother had paid to have her dragged out of their home while expecting her replacement. “Maybe if I had just listened…and done what they asked, things would have been better and I could have made them proud. Maybe they wouldn’t hate me.”

“Well,” Caleb’s thick accent drew her back, Beau blinking the family around her back into focus, banishing the imagined faces of loving parents from behind her eyelids. “I would hate to think where we would be…without you.”

Abruptly, Beau remembered the words she had spoken to Fjord back in the tavern a few days prior. She was scared of facing her past because it was a past that didn’t include the Mighty Nein…and that she was happy here, like this. That she was scared of losing that happiness.

This was why.

She had been back in that god damn house for less than two hours and she was already trying to place the blame on herself, to maybe reason a way into fixing what had never been whole. In the year she had spent alongside this band of misfits, they had given her more than her parents ever had.

“Jester said she thought…that my dad wasn’t lying about caring about me. But I don’t believe her, not really. I just think he’s convinced himself that everything that happened three years ago was in no way his fault. I think he believes that he’s blameless…and I’m not ready to forgive him.”

She looked over at Caleb, kept her fingers buried in the warm, soft feathers of Frumpkin’s neck and took a tremulous breath.

“I don’t know if I ever will.”

Caleb met her with a steady look, and a firm nod. It wasn’t agreement, and it wasn’t disagreement. It was approval for a choice that Beau had made on her own, it was a reassurance that he would support her no matter what choice she decided to make in the end. He would not tell her what to do – none of them would. But they would stand at her back and Caleb would return the favor she so often granted. Caleb would give his shoulder for her to grab onto if she needed a crutch to steady herself on, a reminder that she wasn’t by herself in any of this.

Beau was so tired of crying, so drained from digging up emotions that she rarely ever let see the light of day. Despite this, her eyes stung with tears that lingered there and didn’t fall. She was too exhausted to cry for real now.

Caleb, in a rare display of physical affection, reached out, gently shooed Frumpkin off Beau’s shoulder and into the monk’s lap. He placed his arm around her shoulders, occupying the space Frumpkin had just been in with a steady hand, drawing her into his side. Beau went willingly, leaning into reassurance offered so unconditionally from someone who believed so whole-heartedly in the goodness inside of her.

This was reminiscent of their post-battle ritual, commiserating their wounds and finding solidity in the fact that they had managed to survive once again. In a way, Beau supposed that this was technically post-battle – one she had had to fight on her own. Caleb was offering her a second layer of protection, tucked into his shoulder inside the bubble. He was letting her take her time to lick her wounds and feel a little miserable before they continued on towards their goal in the morning.

Sniffling against the pressure of a cry-induced stuffed nose, Beau’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion and she tucked herself a little more securely against Caleb’s side and wrapped a careful had around Frumpkin in her lap. Tension unwound so rapidly from her muscles at the foreign feeling of total safety that Beau felt a little off kilter. But she was too tired to dwell on it.

“I am…sorry. By the way,” Caleb murmured, his mouth near her hairline as he tipped his temple against the top of her head. His fingers tightened a little around her shoulder as he apologize, and Beau hummed with sleepy confusion, brow crinkling slightly as she fought to stay awake.

“What for?” she whispered in return, petting her fingers against Frumpkin’s wing.

“For asking you to come back here in the first place. I know I often tend to put Nott above everyone else, but I never should have asked this of you.”

Caleb’s voice was tight with guilt, and Beau found herself drifting back to a few days prior, when the wizard had asked if she would do this for their friend. Not his friend, their friend. Maybe he thought it was selfish (and maybe it was), but Beau knew that this had to happen eventually, and she would stand by Nott through anything. Even through facing her family.

She thought of Nott happily popping open an expensive bottle of her family’s wine to spite her parents, of a sharp grin full of teeth and a lie meant to terrify her father, of clattering cups and a jade rabbit statue sitting pretty in Nott’s little hands. She thought of that night at the tavern, their ridiculous conversation about crushes, and Nott proudly proclaiming everything her little Luc was good at, like any decent mother would.

“If I knew this all would have happened when you asked, I would still say yes,” Beau murmurs after the silence stretched between them. “Nott is my friend too, and this is an important lead for her. You didn’t do anything wrong, Caleb.”

Seemingly not knowing how to respond to her lack of anger towards him, something he had clearly expected, the wizard remains silent and just wraps his arm that much more firmly around her shoulders. Beau hums quietly again and finally lets her eyes flutter shut for the night. She’s never felt safer than this in her life.

“Thank you,” she muttered, hoping her words were still coherent enough for him to understand as she dropped off to dreamless sleep.

[pirate-melody]

Just One Kobold

A story I wrote from the point of view of my D&D character, Captain Elijah Graeme. He used to be an active pirate, but now he is working with this party, the Band, to get out of his death sentence. This is based on a real event from our campaign.

It took all of Elijah’s willpower to not slam the door of his cabin. He braced himself against the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t work. He took out his flute to use as a distraction and keep his mind of what was troubling him, but his playing was as bad as it had ever been.

Elijah couldn’t believe Veezara had had the gall to let Vonnum out of his cell without even consulting him. Just imagining what he had seen upon entering the brig made his flute unintentionally jump an octave. Before Veezara had acted, Elijah had had half a mind to go ahead and release Vonnum himself. The dwarf had only been following his own traditions, and it wasn’t his fault that Elijah didn’t understand them. Also, Vonnum had been the only person on the ship to answer honestly about where the crew had been—more honest than Elijah’s own brother.

Veezara had let Vonnum out of the cell because he was upset that Elijah had imprisoned his friend, and person on the ship he had known longest. Elijah didn’t care. He had just put his brother in the cell with Vonnum; Veezara’s relationship with the dwarf was not a valid reason to release him. Then Veezara claimed that the captain had no authority over Vonnum. Elijah agreed, but he would never have admitted that to Veezara with the stunt he had just pulled. Then Veezara questioned the authority Elijah had on his own ship, and the pirate snapped.

Didn’t Elijah already realize how precarious his situation was? Hadn’t he just found out how little his authority mattered to the crew? He didn’t need Veezara to tell him how little his authority mattered. Military captains were commissioned; pirate captains were elected—but Elijah? He had done nothing to earn his place as captain. He had taken the position for his own ego, and now he was paying the price.

Elijah had assumed he was the only person for the role since the criminal half of the crew already knew him and would listen to him. He hadn’t even thought of his own brother, who would have the same amount of influence with the Cobalt Watch. Elijah wasn’t even able to be on the ship for the whole journey, having to spend days on end killing squirrels and dealing with elven politics. Nathaniel had been an obvious choice, but the pirate had been so caught up in the promise of adventure on the high seas with another band of criminals that he hadn’t even noticed.

Elijah hated that Veezara had pointed out this insecurity, so he had threatened him with a blade. It was far from his proudest moment, physically threatening a fellow party member, especially when he knew that Veezara could easily beat him in a fight. The cleric had even said as much, only making Elijah angrier. He wore so much armor that Elijah would maybe be able to get in one good hit before Veezara’s magic beat him to a figurative pulp. Elijah wished he could be better with his words, just for once in his life, rather than continue to hopelessly throw violence at all his problems.

Outside his cabin he heard another flute, somehow successfully harmonizing with the garbage he had been producing. He stopped and let the flute play a bit longer by itself. In his anger, the flute was telling him that this was how he should sound—not like a toddler who had found a flute and was trying to eat it. He should be trying to repair his relationship with his brother, not imprisoning him. He should know how to deal with an insubordinate crew—he had done it before; why was this time so different? He should be trying to find Leonora, not fighting Sahuagin. He should—

Elijah opened his cabin door to find Selva on the flute, mid-note, but she stopped playing almost immediately.

“That’s great playing, Selva. So much better than mine.” If there were a spell that let someone see annoyance, Elijah would be overflowing with it. Selva caught on quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant! I was trying to. . .” She let out a huff. “Can I talk to you?” Elijah motioned her inside and returned to his seat at the desk. She sat in a chair across from him, her feet not touching the floor. “I know you’re mad at Veezara. It’s crazy that he just let that Vonnum guy out without even asking you. He said he was his friend and he’s known him for a long time, but I agree he should have talked to you first. But, Elijah, you’re his friend too, you know? And we shouldn’t be doing things for each other because someone’s in charge of us but because we’re friends, and we care for each other.” She stopped and looked up at him with hopeful eyes, but also with anger at how these people she had allied with apparently treated their friends.

“You’re right,” he responded. “I know you’re right. But I don’t like that you are. I can barely control the crew as it is, but he goes and does this, telling them that not even the party respects me. I’m allowed to feel angry.”

“You can be angry. I am too, at both of you. But remember all the things you’ve done together. Don’t stay angry forever.”

After Elijah’s acknowledging nod, she quietly left the captain’s quarters. Elijah assumed she would be talking to Veezara soon if she hadn’t already. He was glad Selva had intervened earlier in the brig. He didn’t know what kind of state Veezara would have left him in otherwise, though Elijah was sure he would have struck first and made it his own fault.

The Band wouldn’t get anything done without Selva. Today was an extreme example, but she always kept them from fighting. Selva was their peacemaker, though she was certainly a strange person to hold the title. Somehow the pink kobold had managed to keep two people that were both more than twice her size from getting into an altercation.

When Veezara later appeared at the captain’s quarters not looking incensed at Elijah, he knew Selva had again been successful. Apologies were grudgingly given and grudgingly accepted. Selva’s abilities didn’t reach so far as to have them leaving together arm in arm, but with where Elijah and Veezara had just been, she was still very impressive.

The Sahuagins would be a welcome distraction. Even though Elijah had reconciled with Veezara, he had still been reminded of the poor claim he had on the captaincy. Maybe fighting the Sahuagins together with his crew would help to cement his position. He half-wished he had been with them in Vestervatn. But if Selva could persuade Elijah and Veezara to make peace, then surely he could be the captain his crew needed him to be. With the help of just one kobold, Elijah and his stolen sword were ready to take on whatever came at them, whether that be Sahuagin, the Arctic Devil, or a disobedient crew.

[disasterhumans]

This post originally started out as a reply, of sorts, to tags made by @theregoesmylurkerstatus on this post

#its very interesting to me honestly #he's still so closed off after all this time #its almost like one if the Nein betrayed him he wouldn't be that hurt? #no 'why's or 'how could you's #just immediate survival kicking in #hardening himself towards it #i think the only betrayal that would cut through that and into shock would be jester 

But, as is often the case with things like this, I got carried away, and it just seemed to make more sense to make this a standalone post.

-

Fjord is, in some ways, a contradiction in terms. While all of the Nein love and value each other to varying degrees, I think it’s fair to say that Fjord is the person who values loyalty and community as ideals the most. He has a history of systemic abuse and bullying, but also a history of working as a part of a crew. I think Fjord had a lot of complicated—and perhaps contradictory—feelings about his life as a sailor, but by and large he seems to remember it more fondly than, say, Beau does her time at the Cobalt Soul. All of the Mighty Nein have had pasts marked by loneliness, but Fjord is the only person who found a community (of sorts) in the aftermath of that loneliness that wasn’t the Mighty Nein. So he knows what it is and he holds it dear.

We don’t know what Fjord was like as a sailor. From what Fjord’s said of that portion of his life, it seems like he didn’t have any particularly close bonds aside from Vandran. But that doesn’t really mean he wasn’t slightly more open then than he is with the Mighty Nein now. It feels like we might still be missing some specifics about his relationship with Sabien—maybe in spite of their early childhood antagonistic relationship, Fjord actually tried to open up and become friends with Sabien. Maybe he truly grew to trust him. Maybe he truly cared for him. And then Sabien went and destroyed the stability that Fjord had come to rely on (that stability seems to be the thing Fjord liked most about being a sailor), and also literally killed him.

And then Fjord washes up on shore with a falchion, new powers, and weird dreams.

And the next person he meets is Jester. Who is the only person of the entire group who is—and who has always been—an entirely open book. It’s been heavily implied that Jester and Fjord both know most—if not all of—each other’s backstories. And I think half the reason Fjord was able to open up to Jester (aside from her being generally pleasant and supportive), is because she probably opened up to him first. And because she so clearly has nothing to hide except her sadness. Fjord’s not good at reading people, so someone who is so open and genuine feels safe. And there’s also the fact that she’s the first person he met after his entire life changed. As Liam’s talked about re: Caleb sharing his background: it’s likely that at least part of the reason that Fjord shared his past with Jester is because he needed the catharsis.

There’s also Beau, who tends to answer people’s questions about her fairly straightforwardly, especially one-on-one (it’s just people often don’t ask her...) She’s not an “open book” in the same way Jester is. And she definitely has a certain amount of skill in deception. But she’s frank and honest in a way that I think Fjord probably found refreshing. Not “safe” in the same way he found Jester safe, but comfortable enough that he still feels like he can share the person he is now with her. Outside of Jester, Beau is the person who will consistently check on Fjord, and Beau is the person Fjord will consistently go to. I think there might be some contexts where a Beau betrayal may not “shock” Fjord in the same way a Jester betrayal would, but in a situation like the one down in the tomb, I think he would have been.

But every single other member of the Nein is closed off and twitchy and secretive. And Fjord isn’t the best at reading people—and I think he knows he’s not the best at it. He can tell when people are generally shifty and hiding something, but he can’t pick apart whether what they’re hiding are their motivations, or something else. Fjord has the same problem reading other people that certain parts of the fandom have reading Fjord—he keeps a lot close to the chest, and hides seemingly meaningless (to an outside observer) details, but is ultimately doing so out of shame and self-loathing. Given that uncertainty in being able to read others effectively, and also given that Fjord’s been burned by the betrayal of an ally before, it makes sense that he is generally reticent to grow close to people. Tens of episodes and several in-game months in and Fjord still doubts Caleb’s dedication to the group (granted, so does Caleb). It’s telling that the thing that’s gotten him closest to opening up to someone other than Jester, is Caleb offering to open up about himself in turn.

But, Fjord is a person who wants to be a part of a community. He wants the group to work (he’s like Molly in that respect). It’s what he and Caleb initially bonded over (and have circled back around to bonding over)—it’s also what he and Caleb had their biggest falling out over. It’s just that, for Fjord, The Group as an entity is sometimes more important than the group as a collection of individuals. He cares about all of them, he really truly does. But it’s a care that he’s carefully crafted a firewall for. If something goes wrong he can slam that wall up and safely keep separated his feelings for The Group, and his feelings for a member of The Group. I agree, that if any M9 member aside from Jester (and possibly Beau) did something to betray the group, that Fjord would have a similar response. He’s scared of being vulnerable in the same way he was after Sabien—or even after learning about Vandran.

But I think that connection is something Fjord wants. Fjord and Caduceus are similar in that they both seem to care for The Group as an entity, but also seem to be more emotionally detached. But where Caduceus’ detachment (as other meta-writers with a better grasp on Cad than I do have pointed out) comes from the fact that he already has a family, Fjord’s detachment is primarily a coping mechanism. A survival instinct. And it’s one that I don’t think he particularly wants most of the time. He doesn’t want to share his past, because he wants the Fjord he is right now to be the version of himself that the Nein love, and respect. I don’t know if Fjord fully realized how much other party members feel like they don’t really know him until Caleb brought it up (this in contrast to both Beau and Yasha, whom Caleb has few factual life details about, but with whom he’s had genuine and open conversations, and formed specific rapports).

All of this to say that I think it’s both true that Fjord is constantly prepared for people to betray and/or abandon him (see: his doubt the other’s would save them from the Iron Shepherds’; his doubt Caleb would want him as part of the team if he didn’t have powers), and also that Fjord would likely take that betrayal more personally than a lot of other members, regardless of who was doing the betraying. He might not be as emotionally devastated as Jester was/would be. He might not even be as angry as Beau would be (though if the succubus fight was an indication, Beau might just be sadly resigned if it was Caleb doing the betraying). But I do think he is internalizing Yasha’s apparent betrayal in a way the rest of them are not. Fjord immediately and specifically turns his castigation inwards for not being able to see and know that this betrayal was coming. He should know better by now after all, shouldn’t he? At a certain point, in Fjord’s view, if you keep getting betrayed it’s your own fault for being too stupid to see it coming (”fool me twice, shame on me”). And the more it happens, the more Fjord keeps wanting to throw up walls to protect himself from the hurt and self-hatred he feels, while at the same time one of the things he still wants most is to be accepted as part of a group. It’s a vicious cycle that keeps Fjord maintaining an arms’ length distance from the party, even while he is one of the first to take on responsibility for keeping the group as a whole safe, and “righting the ship.” It’s a constant push-pull of—I want to be accepted and cared for, but I can’t risk the danger of getting too close. Which makes Fjord’s reaction to leaving Yasha behind one of the most tragic, in my view. He’s lost a friend, but he’s also lost just that much more hope, or faith in the idea that one day someone might love and accept him without eventually turning on him

(Also as far as “whys” and “how could yous” go—I personally missed it during the stream, but I’ve seen at least a couple people point out that Fjord did ask Yasha “Why” when she attacked him. But by the time the group was talking about it as a whole, he had definitively settled on “she betrayed us, how could I have missed this. His emotional breakdown over her betrayal was small, and silent.)

[luckyjak]

fic: Lover (1/3)

Sixteen years he’s gone without a lover, and it hasn’t really bothered him all that much. Now that he and Essek have started fooling around, however, he finds it difficult to go on for too long without touching him. A story about intimacy, trust, and the process it takes to care about someone again. Shadowgast. AO3 Link

A/N: This story was brought to you by Taylor Swift’s Lover on repeat for three days straight. It was also inspired by the fact that a lot of Shadowgast fic is mostly about them boning, and while their sexual tension is in fact breath-taking, some folks need time before taking that step, and I wanted to see what that looked like in fiction with these two idiots.

But then, of course, the plot fucking grew, as plots are likely to do, and so we have this rather large fic of mine. There are three chapters (maybe four--chapter three is *long*) but it’s all already complete: it just needs editing. My goal is to have all of it up by Thursday so it can be immediately jossed, but I make no promises.

Comments are incredibly encouraging.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years, seven months, twenty-three days, to be more exact. Sometimes his eidetic memory was more of a curse than a gift. That’s how long it had been since he last saw Astrid, had last kissed her, had last been with another person, physically.

And he had been fine. Really. Sure, there had been lonely nights here and there, days when he longed to have companionship of a different sort, not better or worse, more physical than Nott’s constant friendship, Caduecus’s quiet company, Fjord’s charm, Jester’s warmth and laughter, and Beau’s cunning wit.

He had a right hand and a perfect memory: he could make due alone, to take care of any physical need he might have. He might’ve missed the afterglow, the intimacy of having someone close by afterwards to hold on to, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t live without. He was adaptable. Besides, he highly doubted he would ever have another lover again, anyway, given everything that had happened in his life.

Who could ever want someone like him?

Except he was wrong, of course, because the past three times he’d seen Essek Thelyss in the past two weeks, they’d ended up exactly like this: pressed up against one another, trading hot kisses, exploratory hands caressing against cloth and skin.

He wasn’t even sure how it had even started: they had been studying together, talking quietly about-- something. It had been important, he was sure, but then they were kissing , like kissing-kissing, like Caleb-on-the-floor-with-Essek-on-top-of-him kissing. Caleb hadn’t wanted to stop, but eventually Essek pulled off of him with a sheepish smile and a dark purple flush on his face, and said he’d have to see him again soon, and left.

And Caleb could have came right then, harder than he’d been in years and left wanting on the library floor in the Xhorhaus, but he pulled himself up and managed to make it to his bedroom, where he spent the evening thinking of little else besides the dark purple color of Essek’s face and the way his body had felt pressed against his own.

He slept well that night. Better than he had in a long time, deeply and fully, to the point that Nott had to wake him the next morning when his internal clock failed him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted so much. Being with Essek was like turning his brain off in the best way possible--better than polymorph, even, because all he could think about was tongue and mouth and lips and skin.

The next time they met had been at an official affair, a meeting with the Bright Queen with Essek in attendance, cool and formal and every bit the perfectly poised professional. He would have thought he might’ve just imagined their earlier entanglement entirely, if Essek hadn’t grabbed him after the meeting and shoved him into a nearby coat closet.

He then proceeded to have a rather excellent ten minutes, and would have gladly spent even more time with him, trading lips and tongue and touch, if Beau hadn’t come looking for him, forcing him to quickly try and detangle Essek’s mantle from where it had gotten hooked into Caleb’s mythril shirt.

He had insisted on a private bath in the hot tub that night, away from the others, with the door locked tight.

Their latest encounter was a more formal occasion. An invitation, sent via a rather beautiful raven, inviting him to an unknown location that must have been Essek’s home, in order to “continue the discussion they had before.”

He didn’t quite know what that meant; they hadn’t discussed anything the last few times they’d been together, unless you counted the way they immediately gravitated towards one another, their magnetism more powerful than any spell Caleb knew.

They hadn’t had sex yet. They had, however, made out furiously, every time they’d been alone in a room together.

Which meant that when Essek invited him over, Caleb showered, shaved, bought another new coat, and very seriously considered asking his companions for advice before deciding against it.

Gods, but he wanted him badly. He’d masturbated more this past week than he had in the past decade, or so it felt like.

He had barely made it into Essek’s house before he found himself draped across Essek’s lap, the drow either unaware of or uncaring about the weight of Caleb’s bony ass pressed against his thighs. Essek had one hand snaked around Caleb’s waist while the other had a deathgrip on his thigh, squeezing and massaging and trending ever higher up Caleb’s body. Caleb, for his part, was busy concerning himself with Essek’s neck, and how sensitive his ears were, and what lovely little noises he was making, and wondering just how dark a color he could make his skin go if he kept biting his neck, and--

He felt the cold of the alarm spell wave over him before he heard it. He groaned, loudly, and his only consolation was the fact that Essek groaned, too, before pulling away from him.

“No,” he moaned, trying to pull Essek closer to him, even as the drow protested despite Caleb’s mouth on his chin. It had only been--

An hour? Really? It hadn’t felt like it.

“Sorry,” Essek apologized, pressing several fast kisses against Caleb’s face. “I thought we’d have more time before I was summoned to the Council.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’ll come by this evening, if I can get away.”

He hadn’t come back that evening. Or the evening after that. The day after that, Caleb was the busy one, stuck out in the Xhorassian wilderness trying to find some Cobalt Soul artifact for Dairon and Beau that had been abandoned centuries ago.

Which was fine, really. He didn’t mind helping Beau--gods know she had done enough for him and the rest of the group so far.

What he did mind was the cold, and the lack of privacy in the dome, and the Storm Giants, and the fact that he could not get Essek out of his mind, and he was pretty sure if he didn’t have sex with that man soon he might actually physically die.

Which was stupid. He’d gone sixteen years without sex before. He could do it again. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t a hormone-induced teenager. He could, in fact, wait. Patience was a virtue, or so they said.

...The fact that he convinced the group to return to Rosohna for a few days of rest before heading to Traveler-Con was something of a victory, however. Convincing Jester to cast Sending on Essek to find out if he was available that evening was even moreso. And by the blessing of some god Caleb didn’t really believe in, Essek was both available and had extended an invitation for Caleb to come over as soon as he got back.

Jester teased him horribly about it the whole evening, but it was fine. He’d endure whatever sort of teasing he’d get from Jester if it meant he got to see Essek again.

A quick shave and a change of clothes later, he made his way to Essek’s home, where he was invited in, led to the study, and then promptly had the door shut in his face.

“Wha--Essek?” He tried the door handle, but it was locked. A sense of panic began swelling in his stomach. Was this a trap? A trick of some sort? What if this was all a plot by Ikithon to get him to lower his guard and--

“I’m sorry!” The drow’s voice was muffled through the door, but it was still Essek’s voice. There was no mistaking his accent. “I just--I keep meaning to talk to you, but every time we’re in the same room together we end up kissing instead of talking, and it’s important that I talk to you. So...A door between us. So that we might converse.”

Caleb couldn’t help but laugh, the anxiety in his stomach lifting as he leaned against the door frame. “A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think? We’re both adults. We can--we can handle a conversation without kissing.”

“Oh, really?” Essek’s voice was smug to the point of pretentiousness. “So if I were to open this door right now, you wouldn’t kiss me senseless, despite not seeing each other for a week? How disappointing.”

There was a small click, and Caleb knew Essek had unlocked the door, but hadn’t opened it, instead leaving the hypothetical ball in Caleb’s hypothetical court.

A delicate situation: if he opened the door, he would inevitably want to kiss Essek senseless, thus proving him right for locking the door in the first place. On the other hand, not opening the door also proved him right, about neither of them having the strength to resist one another physically.

Clever man.

With a defeated sigh, Caleb turned around so that his back was leaning against the doorframe before he slid down it, so that he sat leaned against the door on the carpeted ground. “You may have a point,” he confessed, his head leaned against the door, his knees tucked under his arms. “You might’ve written a letter.” He offered, wishing that they had talked about whatever Essek wanted to speak about earlier, and not wasted the little time they had together by talking. Especially since talking verbally meant Caleb would have ample opportunities to put his foot in his mouth and ruin everything.

“I considered it,” Essek said. “But I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

That was intriguing. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

He could hear the hesitation in Essek’s voice as he took the time to carefully consider his words. “What--what are we, Caleb Widogast? Are we dating? Are we--are we just kissing for fun? Are you interested in me? Are you--Luxon above, are you courting me? I tried to do some research on Imperial courting practices but I didn’t get very far. Information about the Empire is...scarce, even for me.”

A fair question. One that Caleb might’ve thought to ask himself, if he had managed to think about anything beyond his libido for the past week.  “I--I don’t know what we are,” Caleb confessed, running a hand through his auburn hair, a few loose curls coming out of his hair tie. “We never talked about it. What--what do you want to be?”

A small chuckle. “I believe I asked you first, Widogast.”

He considered being pedantic and pointing out that Essek merely asked for clarification, not a specific desire, but after thinking about it, he realized he did eventually want to kiss him again, and arguing about something ridiculous like this wasn’t likely to lead to that situation. “I suppose I want whatever you want,” Caleb confessed, feeling small pressed against the dark wood of Essek’s home. “I--I enjoy spending time with you, Essek. If you wish to have a--a relationship, I’m open to the idea. If you just want to kiss again without changing things between us, I’m okay with that. And if you want to stop--whatever this is, between us, I--would respect your decision.”

He would hate it, but he would accept it, if that’s what Essek wanted.

(Gods, he hoped that wasn’t what Essek wanted!)

“Hmph. A diplomatic answer.”

“What do you want, Essek?” Caleb turned the question back on him, a little frustrated that his own answer wasn’t apparently good enough. “Do you want a relationship? Do you just want a--a friend with benefits? What do you want?”

“I want,” the dark elf sighed dramatically. “I don’t want a--what did you call it? A friend with benefits? I can serve my own needs, thank you.  If--if that’s all you are interested in, then I don’t see this working out, I’m sorry. And I think I’m too young to be courted seriously, especially by someone so--so different from me. At least right now,” Essek breathed in deeply, and while Caleb couldn’t see him, he could imagine that Essek was just a bit flustered as he spoke. “And I don’t want to stop kissing you, because despite all common sense and evidence to the contrary, I do rather like you, Widogast.”

“I can’t imagine why.” He said, in a dry tone of voice that could be taken as either a joke or seriously, depending. He meant it as a joke, but now that he said it, he was curious what Essek had to say in response.

“Is it so ridiculous to think that someone might like you, Caleb?” Essek questioned; Caleb didn’t have a response, feeling small and ridiculous. It took Essek a moment to continue. “I--you make me laugh, Caleb. And you treat me like a person, not just someone in a position of authority. And you’re so smart. I could talk to you about magic all the time and never get bored,” There was a slight pause as it sounded like Essek was readjusting himself. “And I suppose I find you very handsome as well.”

Caleb smiled warmly, a rush of butterflies filling his chest in a way it hadn’t since he was a teenager. “I like you too, Essek,” he confessed, surprising himself with his own honesty. He did like Essek: it wasn’t a lie or a ploy or a manipulation: just a genuine fact. The fact that they had kissed the last few times they had been together was just a bonus that came on top of a general appreciation for Essek’s company. “You’re charming and smart,” he toyed with the amulet he always kept around his neck, the one that kept him safe from scrying. “You’re always kind, to--to me, and to the rest of the Nein. That means so much to me. Most people in my life and in my past haven’t been very kind. And you are,” he breathed in deeply. “Incredibly attractive. I can’t even believe you would like someone like me.”

“What’s not to like?”

“I’m human? From the Empire? And there are so many more attractive men out there. Like, look at Fjord, he’s--”

“Not you.” Essek assured him, his voice soft and kind but solid, impossible to argue with. “And I like you , Caleb Widogast.”

He felt himself blush in the empty room. “I--I like you too, Essek.”

“Sounds like we like each other,” Essek teased through the door, causing Caleb to let loose a chuckle, the nervous swell in his stomach releasing. “I suppose we should date one another, then.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb agreed, moving his head off of the door, turning instead so that he was facing the door handle. He wanted to kiss him again. “Can we open the door now?”

“Just--one more thing. Two more things, actually.” Essek breathed deeply. “I don’t think I’ll get in trouble with the Dynasty for dating you, but I also don’t want to risk endangering my job. Does--will it bother you if we keep things subtle, while we’re in public?”

Caleb shook his head, then remembered that Essek couldn’t see him. “That’s fine. I can keep a secret. Can we tell my companions, or would you prefer to keep them in the dark?”

“I don’t mind if they know. It might be fun to keep them guessing, though. I’ll leave that decision up to you to tell them if you’d like.” Essek breathed in deeply, and Caleb could tell that he was about to ask something he was nervous about. “The second thing: I don’t want to have sex.”

That caused Caleb to pause. “...Like, ever?”

“No. Well, um, not for a while, I guess,” Essek laughed hesitantly, a fake sort of laugh that came mostly from nervousness. “It’s just the last two relationships I had, they both went--went too fast, and I ended up getting really hurt, emotionally, and I just--I want to take it slower, with you. Because I really, really like you, and if I end up fucking things up with you I’ll probably still have to work with you, because I’m the Nein’s liaison, and I don’t want to ruin things like I have in the past. And if that’s a deal breaker for you--”

“It’s not,” Caleb assured him, surprising himself with his own honesty. For all that he had touched himself since he and Essek had started-- this --he found he didn’t mind the thought of waiting, if that’s what his partner wanted. “We can take things as slowly as we need to. It’s--” he paused, playing with his necklace again. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, romantically or sexually. Taking things slow is probably a smart idea for both of us.”

“It’s been a while for me, too,” Essek confessed. “And please, don’t think that it’s not that I don’t want you, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s just, I want to do things right , with you.”

“Me too,” Caleb confessed. “Can I kiss you now?”

“ Yes ,” Essek laughed, opening the door behind Caleb. He was hovering at full height while Caleb sat on the floor, but he wasted no time lowering himself into Caleb’s lap, kissing him deeply but quickly. “Then you can take me to dinner, khalir. ”

--

They did make it to dinner eventually, though a bit later that they meant to. Kissing had taken longer than they meant it to, and when they had pried themselves off of one another it had taken a bit to straighten themselves out. They decided to disguise themselves while going out, and that had been its own moment of silliness as they discussed the pros and cons of various disguises. Essek had turned himself into another drow, a less attractive version of himself with longer hair, while Caleb adopted his blue tiefling disguise, looking very much like himself, if he had been born Jester’s twin.

They talked freely when they were out, holding each other’s hands and talking, getting to know one another in ways they hadn’t previously. He learned that Essek was the youngest of four siblings, and the only one of them that wasn’t a consecrated soul at birth. He learned that Essek wasn’t born into Den Thelyss, but had been adopted into it after they realized he had a talent for magic. Essek, likewise, learned that the last time Caleb had dated someone had been sixteen years ago; that Caleb liked the rice they’d had with dinner but greatly preferred bread, and that he’d only traveled with the Mighty Nein for less than a year, now, but that he considered them his family.

When Essek walked him home after dinner, they kissed on the front porch for twenty minutes, until Darion came out and shooed Essek away, like a parent might to a teenager who had stayed out past curfew.

The two days they were in Rosohna before Traveler-con, Caleb spent as much time as possible with Essek, which wasn’t nearly as much time as Caleb would like, because Essek still unfortunately had to work. But they had dinner together each night, and kissed for several hours afterwards, and talked almost as much as they kissed, and Caleb found he enjoyed both activities equally well.

Before the Nein left for the island, Essek had given him a gift. A notebook, blue leather bound, but sparked with the scent of the arcane. “It’s a messenger book,” Essek explained over Caleb’s puzzled look. “You write something in your copy, and it’ll appear in my copy,” he lifted his own book, a twin to the journal Caleb had. “It’s a way for us to keep in contact without using spell-slots.”

Like Jester’s sending spell, but written down, and something he could keep private, without the rest of the group nosing their way into his business. “I love it,” Caleb said, and then kissed his boyfriend, because he could. “I’ll write in it every night.”

“I hope you do. I want to hear about all of your adventures,” Essek kissed him back swiftly, before pulling away. “Am I teleporting you guys to this...island, right?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I mind. But,” he squeezed Caleb’s hand, letting their hands swing together between them. “I suppose I mind less now than I did previously.”

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

Oof this new episode is blowing my mind. I'm just hoping that the M9 don't get framed for everything since they don't have authority. I'm so SO glad the headmaster knows about Vence, knows he just went to Rexxentrum which was then attacked? At least he'll be suspicious. The HFB really messed up the M9's sense of time tho. Not only would Marion and Yeza be freaking out but the Dynasty also prob thinks them dead/spies. Please send a message to Dairon too!

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT TO ME YOU KNOW I’M PARANOID. NO. Shoot now I’m gonna worry about this. Because yeah, from what I understand the Nein is now really starting to get involved in the grander, large scale events that Vox Machina was getting involved in around this time. But, uh, as others have pointed out, Vox Machina had a couple blue bloods with connections, and generally were of higher standing than the Nein are.

Because the Nein are poor orphan/poor self-made orphan/poor may-as-well-be-an-orphan/definitely not rich probable-orphan/rich parents with questionably helpful connections/rich parents who don’t care/missing family from the outskirts of society. And aside from the humble beginnings all but maybe two of them have, only Beau really has useful connections individually. Caleb’s connections… Well, we all know the problems with THAT.

Of course, the Nein as a whole have made two, maybe three solid connections at this point? Which is Essek, Yussah, and Dairon. Which are… Dynasty, unaligned, and Empire respectively. So from one perspective they have their bases covered, but none of those allies have a lot of sway over the Cerberus Assembly or have any direct line to the King, which is what they’d really need. Yussah could maybe bully Oremid Hass into helping them if they got framed or blamed, but that’s not all too solid, and the Cobalt Soul and the Assembly famously hate each other, so Dairon’s… also not going to be able to sway the Assembly much.

PLUS, if they got exposed as being the ones who both returned a Beacon and tipped off the Dynasty to the Empire’s invasion? Yikes. Yikes yikes yikes. They really wouldn’t be hard to blame, especially since they have three looked down upon races of their number, and the two humans are a famously temperamental Expositor who’s caused a decent amount of aggravation multiple times AND is a convicted criminal to boot, and the other murdered his parents and is an apparently somewhat famous almost-executioner. And they have two worshippers of illegal gods. AND ONE OF THEIR NUMBER IS ACTIVELY HELPING FREE THE CHAINED OBLIVION.

And that’s only getting into character defamation. Because the Nein have been the ones dogging at the heels of this Chained Oblivion plot from the very beginning. THEY’RE the ones who’ve found out just about everything. Almost anyone who knows anything about the rifts and the demons and so on have heard it second hand, taking the Nein’s word for it. It’s the Nein that have been running all over the place and getting into the thick of things every time.

All in all, it would NOT be hard to paint the Nein in a bad light and maybe, if the antagonistic parties in question were clever, even twist a good chunk of the Chained Oblivion mess back onto them. Of course, this wouldn’t necessarily be the route anyone would take (probably easier just to kill them on the battlefield, or have them executed as fast as possible without any sort of trial), but man. Framing. That always gets me. The Nein’s best hope in that case would be escape, hopefully aided by allies.

Also, YEAH, I don’t know if they comprehend that they have people who could worry about them? Like, Marion MIGHT be used to not hearing from Jester for weeks at a time occasionally, but it seems like Jester messages her offscreen a lot. Yeza and Luc might assume Nott is fine, since communication with them is more erratic, but like, still. Though, Matt could be willing to go with “yeah you checked in with them at some point” for those NPCs.

As for Essek… I don’t think Essek has ever gone this long without hearing from them. Because the Nein have known him 48 Days prior to the Happy Fun Ball (and if you include all the time in the Happy Fun Ball and after, 83 days), according to CritRoleStats. So he’s known them a while, and in the time he’s known them he’s had pretty regular contact with them. The Nein were always jumping back to Rosohna, and he almost always visited. Even when they went on weeks long treks, they’d message him for info, to ask a favour, or even just to check in.

And now they’ve been gone for almost the same amount of time he’s known them, 35 days, and he hasn’t heard from them once. To him, that’s uncharacteristic behaviour. Essek may be the one NPC who would think it’s weird the Nein have dropped off the face of the earth for so long. And on top of that, Essek has put a lot of trust in the Nein, as well as cautiously given them sensitive political info. The last they talked, there had been a break in, and he’d been under a lot of stress! And personally I subscribe to the theory that the Nein may be his own closest allies and peers, so I don’t think them disappearing on him helps his state of mind! I honestly think he may be freaking out slightly right now. CHECK IN WITH ESSEK!!!! HE NEEDS TO KNOW WHATS GOING ON AND THAT YOU’RE NOT DEAD!!!!!!

I mean, Matt may just let it slide and act like Essek hasn’t noticed anything is wrong if Jester messages him soon, but like. Logically, if the Nein have any kind of importance to Essek (and I think they do), he must be worried. Just a little, at least!

But uh… Yeah, those Empire people he decided to trust? They’ve vanished without a word, they haven’t been seen for about as long as they were there in the first place. You’re right, the logical options are either the Dynasty thinking them dead (not unreasonable) or spies. Who knows what Essek believes? This is the kind of NPC that I don’t think Matt will hand wave communication with so easily. And this might also be the kind of situation in which their unintentional actions have less obvious consequences.

I don’t THINK that the Nein’s relationship with the Dynasty will have dissolved because of a month long absence. But it could easily have been damaged.

In conclusion it’s possible that the Nein will get screwed over by the Empire AND be forsaken by the Dynasty! Unlikely, but there’s enough set up that it could be possible! Let’s hope not, though, lmao

[peterjakes]

Sam x Grizz Fanfic - ‘The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us’

second part of ‘the sun is but a morning star’ series and kinda prequel to my last fic ‘things do not change; we change’ but with a focus on Becca and Sam!

also posted of ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224972

Becca was cradling Eden, something she’d been doing and didn’t want to stop doing ever since she’d given birth to the most innocent and precious thing she’d ever seen. Eden was the cutest baby Becca was lucky enough to hold, even if she did say herself. She never knew something that had brought so much pain, a lot of pain, but could still make her so happy. Holding her, singing to her, talking to her, seemed to make all of her troubles disappear. They’d just moved back into the house; the bedroom she shared with Sam was now occupied by a variety of baby essentials, all crammed into the rather small room. It was a mess, but that didn’t seem to bother Becca. All she cared about was Eden; she couldn’t take her eyes off her, it was as if they were still attached, one body, one entity. She just didn’t want to let go.

Sam had left the two to collect some more supplies from the hospital. In all honesty, he just fancied the walk. The cold winter air was so refreshing on his crimson coloured cheeks. He needed some space; something he hadn’t had over the past week. Not that he was complaining, he loved Becca and loved Eden just as much. But he hadn’t had much time to himself recently. At first, he was extremely grateful for this. Having time meant thinking and thinking meant thinking about Grizz and thinking about Grizz made Sam far too emotional. Not that he didn’t want to think about him; if he couldn’t be with him, thinking about him would be the next best thing. But it was still too raw, too painful, even if it was all of Sam’s fault. Sam hated what he did to Grizz. That heartbroken look Grizz did so well, Sam had already seen too many times. He wished so many times he could have a do-over. If he’d just been more thoughtful, he could have salvaged it all. The way the two had left each other, it wasn’t the worst, but it certainly wasn’t the best.

Sam knew he had to tell Becca, one way or another. It wasn’t fair on anyone, including Sam. Like he’d said, he was so excited about Grizz, so happy, so content. Was he really going to just throw that away? Grizz already meant so much to Sam, just as Eden and Becca did, and he knew he could never truly forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to fix the mess.

Upon arriving back at the house, Sam geared himself up to admit all to Becca. He left the meaningless supplies by the front door and slowly walked up to his and Becca’s room. The girl across the room didn’t notice Sam at first, too entranced by the small baby in her arms. Sam tapped lightly at the door as if to ask for permission to come in.

“I have something to tell you.” Sam stepped forward, trying to mussel up the courage to tell Becca. Tell her exactly what had happened outside of the house. They’d been lucky enough that the day Kelly told Becca she could go home; it was the same day the expedition group had arrived back home. Sam didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened if they’d started for home and bumped into the near riot that was happening. Becca has been so busy with Eden that she hadn’t asked again what was going on with everyone else. He was unsure whether she’d even noticed Allie and Luke were missing. Sam knew he didn’t have long left until Becca would leave the Eden trance and realise something was up.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Becca briefly looked up from Eden, giving him a small smile, looking as if there nothing wrong in the world and there would never be again. Sam didn’t want to break this trance Becca was currently in, all he really wanted for her was to be happy. But he knew he could only keep this façade on for so long, and it wouldn’t do either of them any good to carry on lying.

Sam paused for a moment, pondering whether to tell her the truth or lie. Again. He decided with the latter. “Ah… just that the expedition group… they’re back. Isn’t that great?” It wasn’t a complete lie. The group had only come back last night, apparently looking so dishevelled and confused at the whole situation they had found the community it. Sam hadn’t seen them himself; he’d hidden away at the hospital since Eden was born, not wanting to get involved in anything. He knew that was cowardly, but he had a family to think about now. Gordie had kept him informed on everything; and as soon as Sam had realised what they’d done to his cousin, what his own brother had done, he knew something had to change. He just didn’t think he was the guy to do it.

Becca carefully placed Eden back in her crib, before looking back at Sam, not amused at all, she hadn’t fallen for it. “Sam. I’m not stupid. I had a baby. I haven’t lost brain cells.” She signed this in her usual fashion; fast and aggressive.

“What?” Sam was trying his best to look confused, but Becca knew her best friend too well. He was avoiding her eye, those, sparkling, cobalt eyes always gave everything away. He didn’t want to lie to her; that was the last thing he wanted to do. Having secrets; Sam wasn’t very good at that. One of the reasons he had come out so early was because he hated the feeling of dread. Dread that any day, someone could find out. Dread that he was keeping part of himself secret from his parents, his friends, even Campbell. The moment he told his parents, told Campbell, told Becca; he felt the most immense feeling of relief. He was finally himself and no one could take that away from him. Being the only gay deaf kid wasn’t the easiest thing; especially in West Ham, but Sam knew he had to try to live his life the way he wanted. But those moments seemed so far away now; it was like he was a completely different person.

Becca wasn’t buying this ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about act’. Constantly, pregnant women or mothers were told they were going crazy, they were imagining things - it’s just the hormones. She’d seen enough of that in her own life and wasn’t going to let Sam get away with it. “Sam, where’s Allie? Or Luke? Why does everyone look like it’s the end of the world?” Becca signed this quickly, maybe a little too quickly. She studied Sam’s face to make sure he understood, and when it became clear that he did, even if he didn’t want to, she waited for his reply.

It took Sam a moment before he could answer. Becca was right, of course she was. Originally, Sam didn’t tell Becca anything because he didn’t want to worry her. She was heavily pregnant and about to pop at any moment. Once Eden was born, Becca almost seemed to fade away. She only cared about Eden, which Sam didn’t mind. Eden distracted him, and he was grateful for that. He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, trying to think of a good enough lie but fortunately for Becca, could think of none. “Arrested. A coup. Shit, Becca. It’s all gone to pot. It was Campbell. It was all his fault. They let him go and-“

Becca’s confused expression quickly turned to anger with a small hint of sadness. “Why didn’t you tell me? I asked and you just-“

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, avoiding Becca’s piercing eyes and not wanting to cut her off, but it was necessary for him to say it. He was sorry. Sorry for everything he’d done in the past few weeks.

“What do the others say? Where’s Gordie?”

“I don’t know.” Sam didn’t know what to say; let alone what to do in this situation. He just felt so lost, like he’d become this complete stranger and he didn’t know how to get back. Get back to the version of himself that was good and real.

“Great, just great. My baby is going to live in a fucking remake of Lord of The Flies, isn’t she?” Becca exasperated; not actually believing this could be happening. It was like something out of a fucked-up dystopian novel they’d been made to read in junior year.  

“Becca calm down. Please.” Sam stepped forward again, placing his hands in an almost praying position; how ironic. He didn’t want to upset her any more than he already had, but making things better seemed so far away, something he couldn’t reach.

Becca closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment, took an elongated inhale and then exhale, and focused back on Sam. “Okay, okay. Fine.” She knew she couldn’t be angry at Sam for too long. Of course, he should have told her; she didn’t care about how it would have upset her right before giving birth, she didn’t want to be treated like a child who wasn’t allowed to know all the town’s secrets. But looking back at Sam’s almost heartbroken face, she knew she couldn’t be angry for too long; it wouldn’t be fair. “Have you seen Grizz?”

“No, why? They’ve only just got back.” The mention of Grizz from Becca’s lips surprised Sam, making his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t want to think about the dark-haired boy, let alone to talk to Becca about him. He longed to see him, even if it was just from afar. In one way; he wished he was there when the group came back. Even just seeing Grizz’s smile would have uplifted Sam; even if it was just for a minute. But on the flip side; Sam knew how difficult it would be for Grizz to see him. And he didn’t want to add to the pain he’d caused.

“Hm. What happened?” Becca snapped Sam out of his Grizz-filled trance, wanting some answers.

“Huh?”

“Between you and Grizz. Both disappeared at Thanksgiving, didn’t you?” Becca rolled her eyes, giving Sam one of her signature ‘you know’ looks. “I’m your best friend. I know when you’re angry, sad, smitten.” She signed the last word with special emphasis and nodded her head to Sam as if to say she understood.

“Becca,” Sam warned, not wanting her to say anymore.

“You haven’t been yourself since the group left; you were so excited about Eden and then… When Grizz came to the hospital, who did he really come to see? Who did he follow?” Sam knew Becca wasn’t stupid. Sure, when she was pregnant and when Eden was born Becca had been so occupied with her that of course she didn’t notice anything. Sam liked to think he was pretty good at hiding his emotions; but Becca knew it him too well and now, it seemed that nothing would get past her. “I saw his face, Sam.”

“Becca…” Sam couldn’t bring himself to truly explain to Becca exactly what had happened. The words wouldn’t form in his mind, let alone his mouth or hands.

Becca moved towards Sam this time, wanting to make it clear that she wasn’t angry, not really. All she wanted was for Sam to be truthful. They both should have been truthful with each other from the start. “I’m not going to say anything. I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair.” She knew too well what it was like to have a secret taken away and given out to everyone in the world. She wasn’t going to do that. To Sam or to Grizz.

“I really care about him. A lot.” This was true. But being apart from Grizz that week had made Sam realise it was far more than that. Yes, he cared about him, immensely. He liked the way words fell out of his mouth. How much he enjoyed reading and reciting fantastical quotes from various literature. How kind and vulnerable he was with Sam.

“Do you want to tell him?”

“That I like him? I told him, before-“

“No. Come on, Sam. About Eden. Did we ruin it?”

“You could never ruin anything.” Sam shook his head, whilst carefully signing. Becca meant so much to him, and now so did Eden. She’d been there alongside him, through everything. They’d already battled through enough together. Becca was his rock, and he was hers.

“Sam! Seriously. Look, I messed up. This was my fault. But looking at her, holding her for the first time… I’ve never felt anything like it. But it’s not fair for me to hold you to that.”

“I’m not going to abandon you.”

“No way! I’d never let you. But… I can’t stand in the way between you and your happiness.” Becca could see how difficult this was for Sam, and she didn’t want to prolong that. All she wanted was for Sam to be happy. It had been obvious something was wrong since Thanksgiving; he hadn’t been himself like there was something missing and Becca didn’t want that. “Hey, that can be my gift to you. You’ll be there for me and Eden, right?”

“Of course.”

Becca shrugged her shoulders as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Well, there you are. Sam, tell him.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t.”

“Sam.” Becca insisted; as if she was putting her foot down on the whole situation.

“Are you sure?”

Becca nods, “And anyway, if someone has to know, it should be Grizz, right?” She paused for a moment and focused right back on Sam, making sure she had his attention. “He’s adorable, Sam.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone else.” Sam hated the position he was putting Becca, he felt as if he was forcing her to give in to him. But he couldn’t think of any way he could make things better, at least try to move this whole mess forward.

“Hm, we’ll see. Let me know what he says. Okay?” The arrival of baby Eden had made Becca realise a few things. One being that even with half the town knowing that she had given birth; no one seemed to judge her, or at least not to her face. Everyone had been so kind and warm, especially Kelly. Becca, who at the beginning felt so alone and lost, realised she had the biggest family who were always going to be there and Eden. It wasn’t just Sam. It was everyone. Maybe she wasn’t quite ready to tell everyone the truth about Eden’s father, but she was becoming more accepting of it. But even if she did tell the truth; there was no way she was just giving Sam up. They’d made an agreement and Sam loved Eden the most. She would never take that away from him. Ever.

“Okay.” Sam nodded, unsure if Becca knew how important what she was doing was. He wasn’t sure whether she was completely happy with it, but she had agreed to it and Sam was eternally grateful for his best friend. And he was sure Becca knew that even if he didn’t say it enough. “And Becca?”

“Hm?” Becca had turned away for a moment, focusing back on Eden, stroking her warm cheeks, wondering if anything else could be this soft.

“I love you, both of you.” Sam moved towards Becca, to which she turned around, and raised his hands, to gently touch Becca’s arms. He was so thankful for her; he didn’t know how to tell her that. Anything he said or did would never make up for what she was doing. He reached out to join Becca’s hands on Eden’s cheek, not wanting to stir her. Becca looked up at Sam and placed a small kiss on his cheek, to which Sam started to blush.

“Sam, go!” Becca raised her voice, almost pushing Sam out of the door. Sam glanced back to the shorter girl, to see her giving him a small smile but not a sad one. This smile was filled with hope, which is all Sam needed. Just a little bit of hope.

[chalabrun]

chilling out (trephacard)

@kittiofdoom requested:

Okay but ' it's cold out so sharing a blanket, alucard get over here and stop brooding '

Warning(s): T, some insinuating content

One would think, after living their whole life in Wallachia, that you would become accustomed to her harsh winters that could freeze the balls off an ox. It was late when Sypha and Trevor had returned from their recent escapade in monster hunting, this time in Hermanstadt in Transylvania that had desperately needed the assistance. For their efforts, they had been rewarded a few thousand Ducats for the widespread relief and the growing reputation of a new Belmont name that was growing on him.

Snowfall was light and contrasted with a darkening sky with squalls of pale white that grew a cool, jewel cobalt as it lay upon the ground. Their steeds tromped through the snow, lifting their forelegs high and puffing motes of steam in their languid efforts. After all, what need was there to rush? The twilight gloam was beautiful and set softly against the jagged peaks of Castle Dracula, for once a familiar sight instead of one mired in so much loss and evil.

From afar, the ruins of the Belmont Estate had been largely cleared of underbrush and invasive forests, a patchwork of wooden struts and platforms ascending newly constructed and restored spires alike, a skeletal structure beginning to take shape. Though the Wallachians were wary working in the shadow of Dracula’s domicile, the vampire had since been rendered dead and now only his kind son remained. 

“Once we get inside, I have every intention of making a fortress of books and neither of you will stop me. I’ll read until my eyes dribble from my head and my fingers freeze that way!” Sypha joked cheerfully as she kept in stride with Trevor’s black charger, her pale white mare almost matching the snow.

“You mean after all that, you really plan on just spending it reading?” Trevor intoned drolly, but the note of teasing was obvious in his voice. He sounded exasperated, but there was clear affection for the blonde present.

“And what do you plan on doing? Spending every Ducat on drinks?” Sypha challenged, smirking triumphantly. Given that Alucard had been granted full supervision and control of the treasury, that likely wasn’t going to happen.

“Not even for one beer? God, Sypha, you’re a fucking buzzkill.”

“If you have complaints, you’re more than welcome to bring them to Alucard’s attention. He’ll be much less sympathetic than I am, that’s for certain.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Trevor groused under his breath, but the coin pouch tethered on the saddle horn clinked almost in cheeky reply, and he had to admit, a warm swell on pride at the sight of it defeated any disappointment at forced sobriety, real or imagined. Sypha did care, after all. “Anyway, let’s get inside. Any longer in this damn cold and I’ll turn into a bloody popsicle.”

The pair of them proceeded to untack their horses in the newly rebuilt stables and stow their saddles and brides and reins in the tack room, ensuring the horses were locked in and secure for the night from any ravenous wolves. Though it was unspoken, the last bit of their itinerary was clear: descend below to the Belmont Archives where they’d made a temporary home out of, concentrating their cleaning efforts there—especially after those battles from months ago.

Unsurprisingly, it was warmer below than it was above, the damage having largely been cleaned up. It became easier the days passed, and the trio of them worked well together. Alucard, especially, seemed to prefer rebuilding things instead of participating in the destruction of his father. The deep, abyssal sadness Sypha had noted months ago seemed to have lightened.

“Home sweet home!” Sypha crowed as they made it the subterranean levels, thirstily taking in the sight of all the books. “Hello, my darlings, did you miss me?” Trevor couldn’t help but laugh at her comedic attempts of personifying the books, but it was amusing. She retorted by sticking out her tongue. “Hm, I’m exhausted. Why don’t we start a fire and read a bit? I found some books on advanced hunting techniques I thought you’d like to see, Trevor.”

“To think, you greet your books with more aplomb than an old friend?”

Trevor turned in unison with Sypha to see Alucard rise from a set of study carrels that didn’t require an expert eye to see was overloaded with books. Though the dhampir appeared tired, it was a content sort from long study and a satisfying day doing it. Sypha knew the feeling quite well. “Alucard!” Sypha greeted enthusiastically as she threw her arms around Alucard’s neck and kissed his cheek, summoning a vibrant blush to his cheeks.

Of course, Trevor wanted nothing more to exacerbate it.

While Alucard was still in a state of happy shock over Sypha’s enthusiasm, an arm of Trevor’s joined in around the dhampir’s waist and planted a slow kiss to the other cheek, only deepening the blush. “Hello, Adrian,” he greeted suavely with a smirk, unaffected while Alucard looked mildly scandalized.

“Belmont—” he began to protest but was stopped short by Sypha dragging him towards an enormous couch situated before a hearth large enough to comfortably house an entire Yule log.

“Not another word from you, Adrian! You look exhausted, and we’re tired ourselves. We’re resting, no buts!” Sypha commanded cheerfully as they plopped in unison upon the couch, Trevor arranging a small configuration of logs that the blonde didn’t hesitate to ignite into a comfortable blaze.

“I take it your hunt fared well?” Alucard ventured after they were situated upon it, Trevor the last to join at Alucard’s side as he brought a large blanket over the three of them, Sypha like a ballast as she and Trevor wrapped it around them all.

“I’d say so. We made quite a good deal of money. Maybe it can go into repairing the south wing of the estate,” Sypha reasoned aloud as she wrapped an arm over Alucard’s middle and nestled into the junction of his neck and shoulder, feeling Alucard warm into the embrace, tepidly circling his own around her petite form.

“We’re making rather good progress. I agree, that wing could stand to face more improvement,” Alucard agreed, sighing in relaxation but tensing up reflexively when Trevor more or less emulated Sypha, the brunet grinning cheekily at him that caused the blond to huff and avert his eyes. “Belmont, if you say a thing about this—”

“What? Is the Lord of Castle Dracula so scandalized by the idea of cozying up to a vampire hunter? Afraid I’ll bite?” Trevor flirted rather blatantly, grazing his teeth on Alucard’s throat that caused the dhampir’s breath to hitch.

“You presume too much about me, Belmont,” Alucard huffed in a strained note, craning to Sypha as if she’d be the voice of reason here.

“Humans can bite quite a good deal, isn’t that right, Trevor?” Sypha chimed in, digits tracing along the line of exposed skin along Alucard’s exposed sternum and collarbone, the dhampir’s nails raking along their backs as he forced himself to relax despite their teasing.

“…You two will be the death of me, I’m sure of it.”

But that wasn’t really a complaint, was it?