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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

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whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter five)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Sorry this took so long! Online teaching is...well...

Huge thanks to my wonderful friends/betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who are so endlessly supportive and wonderful.

Please reblog! Please leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Caleb watches his prince flounder through this war he didn't start and, as things go from bad to worse, he realises the only way he can truly help him.

TW: I feel like the mentions of violence increase in this chapter. I mean, Lorenzo's here now. so. you know.

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The forests were as silent as they had been the last time Caleb went through them. A fierce wind was whistling out on the moors and there was even some snow on the air just beyond their close knit embrace but, under the thick canopy, it was as if it didn’t exist. It was as if the world didn’t exist. The bitter air and slate grey clouds, it had all been swallowed by the leaves and the bark.

Caleb remembered how they’d swallowed his sobs the same way, the last time he had passed through here.

He stroked his horse’s neck as he rose further up in the saddle to look ahead through the trees. Though he hated leading Mollymauk’s side, his prince had insisted he be part of the scouts, saying he had the best eyes in the company. And anything Caleb could do to help right now, he would not leave it undone. They couldn’t afford to.

It was peaceful, at least. He had lost the hour in the silence, it was all just darkness and quiet and the beat of his own heart in his lungs. Even his horse’s hooves made no noise in the soft forest floor, carpeted in moss and pine needles. He would never have even known an entire company of armed warriors shared these trees with him. He could have been the only person on the planet.

Which meant no threats in sight as well, nothing his eyes or ears could pick up even in the stillness. Caleb cast a searching spell forward just to be sure but the only sparks of life were the nests in the boughs up above and a family of foxes curled up in their den. No hidden enemies to speak of. Not a hidden archer in the leaves or a sword wielding scout behind a trunk.

Which, inexplicably, didn’t sit well with Caleb.

He frowned and passed a hand over his horse’s neck again, to comfort the animal and, partly, to comfort himself. Unease had settled heavily in the bottom of his stomach on the very first day they’d ridden out from Asarius, a weight that had only grown as this campaign went on.

They’d all flashed so prettily in the sun that day, as the light had caught and turned to red silk pennants on the tips of their spears, Mollymauk in a suit of plate enamelled in purple and looking more a god than a prince, though a god that stopped to wink at maidens and accept flowers from their hands, who ruffled the hair of children who ran alongside their column, who passed jokes back and forth with common tradesmen. It had been more like a fair than a force riding out to war, Molly had known his role and he’d played it well. Caleb must have looked like a sour spirit, haunting his left shoulder all in black, but something had just felt so wrong that day and it felt no better now, a week on.

He sighed, his breath misting in the damp air. No one but a Volstruker would be morose at not meeting a single enemy yet.

Maybe it was just being here that put the tension in his stomach. This was the path they’d taken back into the empire ten years ago, after his...his disgrace. The word didn’t come to him as easily as it one had, the shame wasn’t so quick to rise. It was an old misery he felt, the memory of the loss and despair, how it had opened a pit inside his younger self to think he’d never see Mollymauk ever again. He ached for that young wizard, in pain and confused and so scared, chained in the back of a cart and bouncing painfully along to a fate he didn’t want to imagine waiting for him in Rexxantrum, crying to a love that couldn’t hear him and trees that paid no mind.

He deserved it, a voice that sounded like a whip crack hissed in the back of his mind, curling Caleb’s lip, he deserved that awful fate.

But the voice was distant, like it wasn’t coming from inside him but behind him. Caleb swallowed down a faint taste of bile and answered it vaguely it certainly was an awful fate. That would satisfy it for now.

He was getting better at it. Feeding the thoughts that had been placed inside him to fester and grow, giving them just enough and no more, aware of the distance between them and his own. It was a difficult game, one that could hurt him very easily, one he had to play with steady hands and cautious nature. Two things that Volstruker training had, fortunately, gifted him with.

Caleb took a deep lungful of the air and thought of that boy again, weeping softly and steadily in the back of that cart, unable to stop no matter how many blows his tears earned him. Unwilling to stop.

I’m getting better at it, he promised the boy.

Caleb patted his horse’s neck and turned back towards the column. He’d seen enough.

The tents had sprouted up like strange canvas mushrooms under the shelter of the trees. Good, flat ground was scarce so they were more scattered than Caleb would have liked, clusters of them growing together rather than as one cohesive unit. Too much space for any intruder to thread through and reach the heart of the camp.

But the tents were already coming down as he rode hard back through the outer ring of defences, the company waking up to begin another day of marching. Perhaps there would be better ground up ahead. Perhaps they would finally break through the trees.

And what would be waiting for them when they did?

No one called out to Caleb as he dismounted by the hastily strung up horse paddock, no one offered a greeting or asked about his ranging. Soldiers merely talked around him, laughing and joking and grumbling to each other as they woke up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes, acting if he wasn’t there. Caleb didn’t mind, he was used to it and there was no real malice in their disengagement. Something about his black uniform of office and the rumours that clung to it turned idle conversation away, it was the whole point of wearing it. That was the whole point of being Volstruker.

“Rest now, Frumpkin,” he murmured softly to his horse, patting their neck, “I need to go make my report but I’ll come back and see you get a good rub down before we have to set off.”

“Gods, you’re not still calling the poor animal that name, are you?”

Caleb turned to see Beau leaning against one of the posts hastily driven into the forest floor, smirking at him. She was dressed in a cold weather version of her usual monk robes, more parts reinforced with leather for better protection. No one was taking any risks on this campaign but it was still strange to see the old friends he’d last known as children dressed for war.

He was glad they hadn’t had to grow up as quickly as he did, that they could still be considered too young for this.

“Why would I call him anything else?” Caleb answered smoothly, “It’s his name.”

“One of the finest horses I’ve seen come out of the palace’s stables and you saddle him with a name like Frumpkin. It’s an insult.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched into a smile that he dampened. He didn’t need to smile around Beau, he never had. She’d always taken him as he was and was the first of them all to slip back into doing so after he’d come back. While the others were still unsure how to fit him back into the place the old Caleb had occupied in their lives, Beau was cursing him and scowling at him and punishing him in the training yard like she always had done. Perhaps it was easier when what you had wasn’t the conventional idea of being friendly.

Whatever the reason, Caleb was grateful for it.

“Thank you for keeping him for me all these years,” he said quietly, putting a gentle hand on the horse’s flank.

“Stubborn beast wouldn’t take anyone but you,” Beau shrugged, “Like rider, like horse, it’s the same as ever.”

Caleb grunted, “Where’s the prince?”

“In the command tent,” Beau rolled her eyes as she said it and for good reason. The idea of the Mollymauk they all knew in charge of armed soldiers was absurd, however good the act he’d been putting on for everyone else was, “Anything to see out there?”

“Nothing,” Caleb said, “Nothing but the wildlife whose homes we’re trampling through.”

“I’m starting to think the Jagenoths keep their brains in their damn swords,” Beau frowned, “Did they seriously send out an invading army but didn’t think to put at least some force on the borders?”

“The Jagenoths don’t,” Caleb said, voice flat and serious, “And they wouldn’t.”

“So we’re missing something,” Beau followed the thread of his thoughts easily and liked it no more than he had.

“We are. And we will not be ready for it when it comes.”

With that grim assessment, he began walking through the croppings of tents, making for the one at the centre with the royal standard looking rather forlorn outside it’s entrance, no wind to lift it. Caleb did not want to scare his friends and doubt his prince but his strategic mind was in despair at everything he saw around him. They were nearly as short on weaponry as they were the hands to wield them, food as the mouths to eat it, the bulk of the royal army’s resources having gone with the king to meet the main Jagenoth force.

Or, as it appeared at the moment, the only Jagenoth force. Caleb would have loved to believe that.

He’d wanted to be back before his prince woke up but he’d not been sleeping well and was already up and at his desk when Caleb ducked under the flap. When Molly saw him standing there framed in predawn light, the frustration and helplessness in his red rimmed eyes eased into relief. He knew he didn’t need to pretend in front of Caleb.

“It’s good to see you back,” he exhaled, “Any news?”

“Nothing,” Caleb put his hands behind his back, standing tall and drawn, “The forest ahead is clear, no sign of any enemy out postings or even anything to suggest a large group of armed soldiers are approaching from the border. No smoke, no hoofprints, not so much as a flattened fern.”

Molly frowned, setting down his quill, “The border? How far did you ride out, Caleb?”

“Three hours out, your majesty.”

Molly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Gods, Caleb, that's so far. If you’d gotten into trouble, no one would have seen your signal, you’d have been on your own!”

“If I had the enemy would be down as many as they’d seen fit to set against me,” Caleb said evenly, “And we would know more about what they are planning than we do know.”

Molly didn’t seem to think that justified the risk, still frowning down at the map in front of him, eyes tracing the path Caleb must have taken on his scouting run.

“Just...don’t do it again. Please. I know we’ve not run into any trouble yet but if the first time we did was you getting hurt or...just don’t, please.”

Caleb felt a stab of guilt, not the sort that came from disappointing a liege he was sworn to or disobeying an order, the deeper sort that came from causing a friend to worry.

“I’m sorry. It just frustrates me, still knowing so little about what they’re planning. We should have at least met border patrols by now, if the Jagenoths are half of what they’re rumoured to be. If Lorenzo truly is at their head.”

Molly grimaced, standing and moving to where his armour waited on the stand by the cot he slept on. He always waited until the very last moment to put it on while simultaneously knowing he couldn’t let any of their soldiers see him without it. Before long the captains of the night guard would be coming to give him reports and he’d run out of time to move freely and breathe comfortably.

If they saw him without the gilded plate and the glittering swords, they might remember that they were being led by their scandal sodden rake of a prince. That act had kept Mollymauk going after Caleb had been taken from him, it had been all he’d had through his darkest moments. And now it had to be packed away like a winter coat in spring, now its absence was all that kept this company together.

He was doing his best to hide it from their friends but the nakedness Molly felt without it, the vulnerability, was painted across his face when it was just the two of them.

“Perhaps their bloodlust has made them stupid. Perhaps this isn’t an invasion at all, just a tithe taking. Perhaps all Lorenzo wants to see is my father’s head on a bloody pike.”

Caleb winced internally at the defeat in his voice, “Your highness…”

“Caleb, I just…” Molly shook his head, the frantic, panicked edge fading from his voice, “I’m under no illusions about what will happen when we finally do encounter enemy forces. Let me have every moment until then. And...gods, please don’t let it be you in their way.”

Caleb exhaled, finally bowing his head, “As you wish.”

There was a long moment as Molly held his lobstered gauntlets in his hands, staring down at them like he was holding hands with a stranger. He was clearly rolling something around in his mouth, words he wanted to say but couldn’t. Caleb merely waited, patient.

“Has it been getting better?” his prince eventually murmured, pitching his voice lower as if Caleb’s intrusive thoughts were a physical presence with malicious ears, “The avoidance strategies, have they been helpful? I did worry coming through here again might be difficult for you.”

Caleb softened, managing a smile even as he still had to answer carefully, “I have found the last few days more comfortable than I expected.”

And he wasn’t lying. Feeling pity for the boy he’d been, as painful as it was to remember that hurt, it was so much better than hating him. It was such a delicate business but having Mollymauk quietly cheering for him, listening to him as he tried to work out what sentences were acceptable and what would make his old wounds throb with remembered pain, holding him when he slipped and stepping back when the intrusive thoughts roared too loud to allow Caleb any comfort.

In some ways, the close proximity of the camp, so much more intimate than that castle with its stone memories, was a blessing. Not many ways, but some.

“I’m pleased, Caleb,” Molly turned away from the armour and smiled back at him, expecting nothing, just genuine in his relief, “Help me into this damnable oven of an outfit?”

“Of course,” Caleb stepped forward gladly. If any part of him were to wonder why he took so much comfort and delight in being close to Mollymauk, he would answer it smoothly and confidently. He was Volstuker, why would he not hasten to armour his prince and be certain that he was as closely protected as possible?

Why would his heart not quicken as he slide a shirt of fine mail over Molly’s head, so carefully and deftly making sure it didn’t catch on his horns, as he sank down on one knee to carefully lace each fitted plate into place, working from the ground up until they were nose to nose?

Molly cleared his throat as they realised neither had spoken for some time, that silence had settled in now the sounds of metal scraping on metal had silenced. He fixed a playful smile onto his face, “Now, go tend that horse of yours. If you went that far before the sun’s even in the sky, you must have ridden poor Frumpkin hard. After everything that poor boy does for you, keeping his head high with a name like that.”

Caleb chuckled, a brighter sound than any he’d made all morning, “The name suits him, as I’ve told you all plenty of times…”

Molly nudged him gently towards the tent door, grinning, “It’s very you, I’ll give you that. I’ll see you when we ride out.”

Caleb gave him a quick bow in answer, striding back out into the gathering dawn. His stomach felt lighter than it had since he woke.

The days crept by with a maddening slowness as they skirted along the border of the kingdom. It was the same flat, barren landscape with it’s cropped dark grass and those black mountains in the distance cutting a ragged edge on the grey sky. It was impossible to tell what thin, pebbled soil was theirs and what was the Empire’s, the bleak sameness of the landscape doing little to honour the people who’d shed blood to forge it centuries ago.

Caleb wondered why all his training had neglected to mention that war was an awful lot of tedious plodding forward.

They poured over maps, they talked in the command tent long into the small hours of what would have been the morning if any of them had any concept of time anymore, debating in endless circles what the Jagenoths were planning, how the king was faring, what to do next. Molly would listen, unafraid to look exhausted and worn down in front of his friends, and eventually bring his hand down on the table for silence and give them the same, flat answer. They would do exactly as they were instructed. They would push on until they either met his father’s forces flush with victory or discovered their corpses mouldering in the dirt.

Birds would take wing, messages would be ferried along by magic, the same report would fly every day. And every day there would be no answer.

Caleb could tell Mollymauk felt abandoned. But he also knew it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to his prince.

Not that it made watching him go through this any easier. In fact, it was more of a sting, as Caleb would sit by Molly’s cot and stroke his heaving shoulders as he twitched and moaned through more nightmares. That he was having to go through this at the king’s command, after everything he’d done to him. That there was so little Caleb could do.

That same sense of frustration and helplessness drove him on that night, scouting again. He moved quickly over the short bursts of open ground, keeping low to Frumpkin’s neck and trusting his magic, his horse’s dark coat and his uniform to keep him cloaked in the shadows. When in the smatterings of trees, he walked him slow and steady, knowing the damage a hoof or boot crunching down on a stick at just the wrong angle could do. Moving like that, he very quickly lost sight of the company behind him, lost their slow creeping mass and the lights of the outer torches over a rise in the landscape.

Before too long, it was him, the wind and what stars could be glimpsed through the clouds. The whole plain seemed to open out, something inside him itching at the thought of the answers that could lie out there beyond the next rise of shadow. All he would need was a glimpse, one raiding party, one enemy torch in the distance, one footprint in the grass to tell him who had passed this way and when.

Caleb felt a tug in his chest and remembered his promise to Mollymauk. He’d reached the outer limit of what could reasonably be expected of him as a scout, more than halfway through the time his ride was supposed to take. If he went any further, he would be coming back after dawn and it would be impossible to hide the fact that he’d disobeyed. If he really pushed it, he would have to camp out here or risk Frumpkin coming up lame.

But then he would think of the exhaustion in Mollymauk’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he turned to his armour and faced another day of wearing this personality that didn’t fit him. He would think of his prince, his friend, crying hoarsely into his pillow and not hearing Caleb as he tried to comfort him, sounding for all the world like a lost child unable to understand why his father had left him behind.

Caleb took a long slow breath of cold night air and pressed his heels into Frumpkin’s side, urging him forward. Just a little further, he would return just shy of dawn. After all, his only promise to Molly, technically, was that his blood wouldn’t be the first spilled. And if his training was worth anything, it wouldn’t be.

More bursts of frantic speed across the hills bracketed by near silent creeping through copses of trees. Caleb poured all of his energy into his senses, hearing everything from a mouse skittering down by Frumpkin’s hooves to an owl’s call from high above his head, seeing every shift in the texture of the darkness around him, even smelling deeply to try and pick out the sour scent of unwashed solider from the bite of night air. If he was going to disappoint Mollymauk, he would at least be as careful as possible.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, he lost himself in the glut of information flooding through him and the regular rhythm of his ride. It was tasks like this that brought him the most peace, when he could fully give himself over to his magic, float along through repetition and the hard drag of air in his lungs, when he could feel purposeful while disengaging entirely from the tangled magpie’s nest that was his brain. Times like this, Caleb could remember why he’d always had this ravenous hunger for magic, why he’d loved it so much.

He remembered why he’d fallen prey to Ikithon so easily.

But right now, it was his and no one else's. He was pushing forward to save his home, to help his prince.

The border with the Empire was the clean kind, the neatly cut kind formed by politics rather than geography. With the land changing so little, the only reason Caleb realised how far he’d actually gone was when the sky shifted from black to the hazy grey of dawn.

Guilt stabbed through him at the sight, the only thing in hours that had jolted him out of his razor sharp focus. He brought Frumpkin to a halt in the middle of a collection of trees that couldn’t even be called a wood, only now realising how his poor horse was breathing hard underneath him. He patted his neck, pulled an apple from one of his many pockets and murmured softly, knowing that Mollymauk and his friends wouldn’t be so easy to forgive him. They must be worried sick about him, he was meant to be back at camp hours ago and it would be half a day yet before they knew he was okay.

He couldn’t hear the whip crack, not quite, but his scars prickled with a heat the cold morning couldn’t possibly hold and there was a sharp echo reverberating between his ears.

Cursing himself for a fool, Caleb slid from the saddle, pulling the aches and strains he felt closer rather than pushing them away and knowing he deserved to feel every one. He pulled his water skin out from the saddle bags, letting it trickle out in a steady stream so Frumpkin could drink first, their breaths misting in the clammy dawn.

“I am a pig headed idiot, Frumpkin,” he sighed, pushing fingers through his horse’s mane, “All this effort and I don’t even have anything to show for it. I was just so certain…”

Just as he was about to rest his forehead against Frumpkin’s nose and let himself have a moment of self pity before getting back into the saddle, he felt something shift on the very edges of his magic. It was like seeing a shadow flicker in the corner of your eye, a second’s movement that threw everything off balance but was so hard to catch.

But there was very little faster than Caleb. He’d been through Volstruker training twice.

He left Frumpkin to crop at the carpet of leaves underneath them, moving forward on foot. All doubt, all emotion of any kind was locked down tight as he broke through the tree line and slunk forward in the direction of that single vibrating thread. It led him forward, over to the next ridge, though the closer he got the more some instinct pressed him down further into the shadows until he was crawling on his belly to peer into the bowl of the hills.

And when he saw what was cradled there, hidden down where it would be hidden from any view but the one Caleb now had, made him glad he’d hidden. What he saw was an army.

Not a raiding party. Not a band of cutthroats sent to harry the border towns. Not a company like theirs. He saw a full, broiling Jagenoth army. He saw racks of arms ready to slice the air in two, along with whatever stood in their way. He saw mercenaries with smiles as dangerous as the swords at their hips. He saw slavers, spearmen, archers, crossbowmen, rank upon rank of soldiers who fought at their masters command. He saw twice, three times, four times their own numbers and, in the middle of all of them, a standard that was rarely seen outside of Shady Creek Run but, when it was, brought blood and terror.

And, out at the edge, where no eyes but his own would see it, he saw a collection of black clad figures sparring against each other with blows that even from here looked brutal, the weapons they trained with had real edges on them. The smell of magic that came off them was thick and smoky like gunpowder, though heavily masked. Masked to everyone but those whose own skin reeked of it.

They were Volstruker.

Caleb felt no surprise, he was sunk too deeply into battle mode for that. He simply inhaled slowly and steadily, very deliberately not looking for any familiarity in the way they moved and struck out. Another moment to make sure he’d catalogued absolutely everything that lay before him while feeling absolutely nothing, then he slipped back down the hillside. Back to Frumpkin, kicking himself into the saddle and riding out without another moment’s pause.

He had to get back to his prince, his friends. He had to tell them their doom lay less than a day’s ride away.

Mollymauk’s hair ached deep at the roots by the time he heard those hoofbeats, the ones he knew immediately belonged to Caleb.

He hadn’t allowed the camp to break, insisting they stay exactly where Caleb would know to find them, refusing them even an inch until he was back and safe. Later, he would realise that his fit of pique had earned them all another day to live.

But not that moment. That moment had been nothing but relief as he’d pushed past Yasha and burst out of the command tent, seeing a lathered, wrung out Frumpkin drawing to a halt right in the centre of camp. An equally exhausted Caleb slid from the saddle, thin shoulders heaving and wiping spit from his cheek. He came down so heavy that Beau had to jump forward and catch him, barely keeping him on his feet.

Molly couldn’t even muster any anger, it was just joy to have him whole and back in the fold of his protection. He ran up and took him from Beau, gripping his shoulders tight, and grinning like a fool.

“Thank all the gods, Caleb! You must have ridden halfway across the kingdom, look at you! Come in, we need to get you something warm to eat, I-”

His mildly frantic relief died as soon as he saw Caleb’s eyes. Even as the rest of him was exhausted and ragged, his eyes were alert and hard like chips of ice.

“Molly,” his voice was low so it wouldn’t carry amongst the tents, to the many eyes that were on them, warily curious as to why the prince’s Volstruker had been gone all night, “We need to talk.”

Once inside the tent, Caleb wouldn’t so much as look at the broth Caduceus was determined he drank, standing stiffly in the centre with his hands wrapped around the bowl. Molly searched him up and down for any signs of injury but the only thing that was troubling him was clearly the weight he carried behind his eyes.

“Your father will ride out to the north and find nothing. The Jagenoth army is here, every man of them not a day's ride from where we sit. Lorenzo’s standard flew outside of the largest tent, though I didn’t see him personally. Their numbers outstrip ours by far and they are better outfitted, by what I could see in the torchlight. I’d estimate just below ten thousand warriors, a third of them mounted, another third with some kind of long range weapon. And…”

He seemed to steel himself, something like shame creeping into his eyes, “They have Volstruker. Five of them by my count.”

His words drew soft curses, widened eyes, stiffened shoulders as the shock rippled outwards. But Mollymauk turned inside himself and found nothing, only a bleak kind of amusement. It seems your pet monsters have gotten loose, Father. I hope it tastes bitter.

Caleb bulled on before any of them could ask him how he was feeling about that, “We have no hope of defeating them in battle and we are too close to skirt them. Our only hope is to turn now and ride hard back to the capital or even try and make it to the King’s army. Even then, we will still be short of numbers and exhausted but it is all we have.”

“We can’t lead them back to the city,” Caduceus shook his head, usually placid face tight with anxiety, “It is practically undefended and full of innocents.”

“Without that option, we have nowhere to run even if we do manage to get clear,” Yasha’s voice was tense, “And if they catch us in a full retreat…”

“It would be a bloodbath,” Beau finished shortly, her arms folded so tight it was like she was embracing herself and trying to give some comfort.

“A bloodbath from the rear or a bloodbath from the front,” Fjord snorted, tapping his foot as he always did when he was stressed, “Those are our choices, then?”

“Is there any way to get a message to the king?” Yasha’s brow furrowed as she thought, unused to being trapped in situations she couldn’t maneuver herself out of either with her mind or her greatsword, “Surely he’ll have noticed by now that he’s riding to meet an enemy that isn’t there?”

“His Volstruker will have some kind of magical manipulation to bait him on,” Caleb’s voice was still flat, even when he spoke of people who were supposed to be his, “An illusion or a mirage of some sort, torches in the distance, flattened land to suggest they are withdrawing perhaps . And you can be sure any messages we send out will be noticed from this close, as powerful as they are. Even if we could, there would be no time for his forces to reach us.”

“Then why didn’t they notice you?” Beau countered tightly, “If you got that close? If these are your people, isn’t there some secret way you know that can take them down?”

“I know the same tricks they do,” an edge of emotion entered his words now, a tension that threatened to snap, “I know the same magics. But I am only one against five, weaker than they are into the bargain, less firm in my faith. I am not enough.”

“That’ll do.”

Molly spoke for the first time, voice calm and commanding the way he’d been practising since he was a child. He rose from his camp chair, drawing every eye to him, trying to stand tall enough to shoulder their fears and doubts.

“I’ve made my decision. We are going to ride out and we are going to meet this army.”

“My prince, there is no way-” Yasha started to say but Molly shook his head.

“We’re not going to give battle, not at first. I’m going to do the one damn thing I’ve ever been good at with this job. I’m going to call for parley and I’m going to talk to Lorenzo. Whatever rotten deal my father made that has gotten us into this mess, maybe there’s something I can offer the Jagenoths that will make it right again. Gold or wardship or...or a marriage contract with some Dwendalian countess, I don’t know…”

He daren’t look up at Caleb in the beat of cold, heavy silence that followed those words.

“But there will be a price and that price may not necessarily be blood.”

There was a collective intake of breath, whether it was admiration or despair Molly daren’t ask.

“And...if Lorenzo isn’t the type to be bartered with, your highness?” Yasha asked evenly, letting the ‘which you know he isn’t’ go unsaid but lie underneath her words.

Molly hardened his eyes and gripped the swords at his sides, “Then we take as many as we can down to hell with us. Every Jagenoth that falls will be one less to threaten our city walls. Caleb?”

“Yes?” his friend sounded so much further away than the tent would allow.

“If it comes to that, your job is to kill Lorenzo. Not to take out the other Volstruker, not to protect me. If we must fight, he does not walk off that battlefield alive, understand?”

He wasn’t used to ordering Caleb around, the words felt sour on his tongue as did the silence that followed. It was only a moment, barely a heartbeat, but from a man that had been trained to obey it was an eternity that very clearly showed his upset.

But finally, his Volstruker murmured, “I understand, my prince.”

“Thank you,” Molly let his sincere gratitude show in his voice and that crack let the emotion start to bleed in, let his shoulders start to tremble, “All of you...you’re all my dearest friends and you’ve done so much for me. If any of you want to turn back now and leave this company, you go with my blessing. Asking you to die for me...I refuse to do it.”

Beau was the first to answer, giving a derisive snort and coming up to nudge him sharply with an elbow, “We’re not dying for you, idiot. That murderous asshole is standing in our home thinking we’ll just roll over and give it to him. Seeing the look on his face when Caleb spills his guts? That’s worth dying for.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Yasha gave Beau a fond roll of her shadow ringed eyes, “But the sentiment is the same. This will be something we finish together.”

“However it ends,” Fjord nodded firmly, loosening his blade in its scabbard.

“And you are rather convincing when you want to be, Mollymauk” Caduceus chuckled, “Perhaps it will come to peace after all. Stranger things have happened...like us all standing here facing impossible odds with smiles on our faces.”

That broke the lingering tension, making them all giggle helplessly like they were children again, facing their first time sneaking out of their bedrooms after dark. Like this was the start of some grand adventure rather than the end of one. Molly felt such a rush of warmth in his chest as he met Caleb through teary eyes and saw him chucking too, for a moment there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in this cold, filthy tent facing death.

“Well then,” he eventually sighed, jaw aching from grinning so hard, “Let’s put this silver tongue of mine to the test.”

Mollymauk tried so hard not to appear afraid. He really tried.

For once he was glad of his ridiculous horned helmet and the way it shielded his expression from the soldiers around him.

The Jagenoth army came into view over a rise in the landscape, a neat, black row of ants in the distance marching towards them in perfect step, banners snapping in the wind and sun catching on the deadly points of their weapons. They came in perfect synchrony, row after row of them, one two, one two, one two, devouring the distance between the two forces.

And they just kept coming.

Yasha and Fjord held the enormous black banners high, where they couldn’t possibly be missed, but as those soldiers came on and on and on, as Molly’s tongue dried to a desiccated fruit rind in his mouth, he couldn’t suppress the certainty that this lot of trained killers would just ignore their request and plow right through them, trampling them into the dirt without even a pause.

But finally, at the last possible moment, the Jagenoths halted. There was a thin strip of land still between them, less than a league separating him and his friends, the soldiers who followed in devotedly, from death. The silence that fell was broken with the snorting of horses and the restless clank of people shifting nervously in suits of armour but it still weighed heavily.

After a moment, Caleb spoke softly at his side, eyes filmy with magic, “He’s beckoning you.”

Mollymauk didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Well then,” his voice cracked on the very first word and he had to hastily clear his throat and start again, come on you fool, you’ve been an actor more than half your life, you won’t flub your lines now, “Well then. Yasha, Caleb, Fjord, with me. Beau and Caduceus, hold the army. If you see anything done that breaches the terms of parley, attack.”

With that, he urged his horse on, never daring to look back and see if his friends would actually follow him. When they did, of course, he’d hate himself for doubting them.

The fact that only one rider broke from the mass like a droplet of black oil, ploughing forward to meet them, showed exactly what Lorenzo thought of the threat they posed to him. As the formless shape of hulking iron resolved itself into a vaguely humanoid silhouette, Molly took a meagre scrap of comfort from the fact that he was at least in his human form. When he was coming for their blood, he would look much different.

They stopped their horses a few metres from each other and walked the rest of the way, Molly flanked by his friends, Lorenzo needing nothing but his bristling carapace of sooty metal, swathed in hooks and cruel leather straps, and the glaive stowed at his back. The closer that got, the more Molly realised how his pretty, glistening armour with all its jewels and shine made him look like what a foolish boy would dream a prince wore to battle. He was a tawdry illustration from a fairytale. Lorenzo was an experienced killer.

“Well, well, well…” Lorenzo spoke first while he was still loping up, hailing them as if they were friends, his voice a low pitched drawl in an approximation of a nobleman’s polite tones that showed how he’d risen from dirt to lead his army on the backs of slaves, “It’s awful decent of you to come offer yourself on a silver platter. Saves us the trouble of carving those pathetic excuses for soldiers I see behind you into meat.”

Molly swallowed hard and drew himself up, acting as if he hadn’t heard the insults, “Lorenzo. I assume you speak for the Jagenoths?”

“I’m killing for the Jagenoths, boy,” Lorenzo removed his warhelm so they could see his lazy grin, the anticipation in his eyes, “But aye, I speak with their voice in this matter.”

“Then I offer this to you,” Molly kept his firmly on, “Whatever wrongs my father has done to you, whatever snags there have been in your business dealings, surely all out war is not the best way to seek repayment?”

“Depends on what you’re repaying,” Lorenzo sneered, “And I bet you don’t know half the mess your daddy’s gotten himself into. Allow me to educate you instead, gold don’t pay some debts, boy. Sometimes blood’s the only way to tip the scales back.”

“Then you and your kingdom are fools,” Molly replied, letting some contempt creep into his voice as the insults rubbed some already frayed nerves raw, “Out there in Shady Creek Run, you have no resources of your own. Your crops file nine harvests out of ten, there's no metals of any use in those mountains of yours, no lumber, no gems. Hence why you trade in flesh, a commodity most kingdoms turn their noses up at. Think of what I’m offering you. Money, trade, the chance to rise as a kingdom by marrying its crown prince to whoever you choose. I’m offering you the chance to actually see your people grow, rather than scraping out a living in the swamp and selling their children to you when they can’t make their rent.”

There was a moment’s pause after he finished before Lorenzo burst out laughing, showing rows of plaque chewed teeth as he guffawed.

“By all the gods, boy, haven’t they trained you up nice, eh? Got you all dressed up and taught you the right words to say, just like a pretty little parrot. Convinced you that you were a prince.”

Molly felt Caleb shift beside him, magic crackling in the air. He shot him a desperate glance, pleading with him from behind the metal slits in his helm. They absolutely could not afford to be the ones to break the peace here.

He swallowed hard and tried to put some more measure in his voice, “Perhaps if you brought my offer to your lords and let them decide whether they would rather see profit or-”

“You don’t understand, do you, boy?” Lorenzo was still chuckling like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, “What my good lords of Jagenoth want isn’t profit or trade or to see some pretty tattooed whore of a prince in their daughter’s bed. What they want is to see your father suffer. What they want is your head.”

That struck Molly somewhere just below his chest, “Mine?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo nodded idly, eyes creeping up the length of Molly’s body like he was deciding where to make the cut, “Your daddy stiffed them once too many times so they’ve decided his son and heir will be their price. However unimpressive that son may be.”

Molly hated the fear that chilled his bones at those words, that strangled the words in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Why’d you think we went to all that trouble to fool your daddy, get him to ride out on a wild goose chase after our shades and set you off on some busywork? It were never him we wanted. We wanted you, just as you are now with a handful of farmhands at your back and a pretty piece of glass for a sword. And didn’t it all work out so nice?”

Molly’s mouth twisted, “I see Ikithon has been giving you more than just Volstruker.”

Lorenzo spread his mailed hands and gave a wry smile, “You’re the losing side, boy. Got to expect the smarter rats to jump ship.”

“So…” Molly shook himself, forcing the words up, “If I let you take me, do whatever you want with me, that will be the end of it? My people go free?”

He’d expected the sharp, poorly concealed hisses of rage and dismay from his friends, the hands flying to weapons. He was ready with a raised palm, willing them to hold themselves, praying their loyalty outstripped their love for him.

“How very noble of you,” Lorenzo cooed in a mocking tone, before his voice turned to iron again, “And maybe that was the plan my lords gave me. But now I’m here...now I see that rabble you call an army...now I have your capital city just a few days ride from here...maybe now I want more? Maybe now I’ve got me a thirst.”

Molly felt sickness roil in his stomach, “You’d go against direct orders? You’d start a war that would cost you hundreds of soldiers without their permission?”

“Do you think they’ll give a flying fuck about permissions when I hand them the crown of Dosal still red with your family’s blood?”

“Dawn,” Molly croaked, “Give me until then and I’m yours. To kill or to carry back to Shady Creek Run, whatever you wish. On your word that that will be the end of it.”

Lorenzo smiled, a thick and nasty smile, his hand flexing, arm raising, “Do I look the patient type to you, boy?”

Molly saw how it all would happen. The barest second and that glaithe would be free, the blade would come swinging with it’s sharp whistle, no time to dodge, no time to free his own scimitars, all his hours of training meaning less than nothing as that razor edge bit into his neck and severed his head neat as snipping off a stray thread.

He saw it all. But it didn’t happen.

“What in the fuck-” Lorenzo grunted, his arm stilled in the air, muscles tight as iron chord but unable to move.

Beside Molly, Caleb had his hand out and his eyes were hard, the smell of magic rising off him like steam, “Drop your arm. Turn and walk back to your own. This parley is done, you have your terms.”

“You godsdamned pup-'' Lorenzo spat, eyes full of hatred as they fixed on the source of the magic holding him back. His face reddened and the smell of his own magic began to rise.

“Lorenzo!” Mollymauk raised his voice, the sickness turning to panic as he realised that the glaive was now fixing to whistle out at Caleb instead of him, that if it did battle would erupt and so many would die, “This is a parely for gods’ sake. We’re under a peace banner. You’ll get to kill me in less than a day, let it be enough.”

“Molly!” Caleb groaned, pained, his magic starting to slip in his distress and letting Lorenzo’s arm move an inch more.

“No,” he snapped, voice firm and tone hard, “Both of you, stand down. Lorenzo, you want it to get back to your lords that you can’t even keep to terms of parley? How long do you think they’ll keep feeding an oathbreaker?”

Lorenzo’s lip curled but at the very last second it became a sneer rather than a roar of rage. He relaxed his muscles and Caleb dropped his spell.

“I ain’t no oathbreaker, boy, but pay mind to which oaths I made and which I didn’t. Dawn it is then, you come out weaponless and alone before the light touches the base of that hill there. And be warned. You know my trade. You see my ink. You know that I can make you pay hard for every second you’ve made me wait.”

“And that will be the end of this?” Molly pressed, feeling strangely little for someone who had just signed away his life.

At that Lorenzo only smiled and let his eyes roll over to Caleb, poorly concealed hatred crackling in his gaze. It was clear that this wasn’t a man accustomed to being bested, even in the smallest ways. Caleb had dared to stay his hand and now Molly suspected he’d slipped down one place on the list of people Lorenzo wanted to kill tomorrow.

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

At that he turned and strolled lazily back to his horse, never once giving them so much as a glance.

It was odd, to feel so alone in the midst of other people.To feel like the only person in the world when your friends were at your elbow.

They’d fallen back a little ways to set up a camp as best they could in the windswept plain. There was a hush about the company now, a dismay like they were all reeling from what just happened. Seeing the hope on Caduceus’ face fade, seeing the bitter anger flare in Beau’s eyes as she realised what had happened, it was all too much. Not waiting for permission, Caleb had rode Frumpkin past them, unable to bear it.

And now he stood alone at the paddock, running a brush over and over across his horse’s black coat even after it did nothing, just needing to do something. His duty pulled him towards the command tent, towards Mollymauk, but the thought turned his stomach. How was he supposed to watch his prince, his friend, retreat further and further into himself, dull his eyes and shut himself down as he waited for death? How was he supposed to stand by and watch it happen and know he could do nothing at all?

So instead he hid. He was ashamed at himself for it but at this point it was like pouring a flagon of water into the sea.

He replayed the parley over in his mind, turning it over to look at it from different angles, even when it’s sharp edges cut into him. He saw everything he could have done differently, all the ways he could have turned the tide. He could have snapped Lorenzo’s arm, found the strength from somewhere. He could have slipped into his mind, changed his words, made him take it back. He could have cut him down where he stood.

And it would change nothing, you fool.

Hopelessness crashed over his head like a tide again and it was all Caleb could do to keep his feet under the weight of the myriad ways he’d failed and everything it would cost.

Still wallowing in self pity instead of doing something useful I see.

At first Caleb thought it was just his own mind berating him as it often did. But then it sunk it, a moment too late, that the voice was so much clearer and sharper than it usually was. And it wasn’t his own.

An overpowering sense of revulsion filled him as his mind was invaded, enough that he couldn’t fight back. He’d felt it before but the sensation of someone else seizing control of your brain was so awful, so gut wrenchingly wrong in every way, that having it done brought him to his knees every time. Helpless, alone, no one around to see his distress, all Caleb could do was bend double and retch into the grass while his master slipped into his mind as easily as sliding on a well worn pair of boots.

I would have hoped to find you stronger, Bren. This is the Volstruker’s element and yet you are here whining instead of glorying in it.

Caleb could only moan thinly in response, mouth full of bile. His master only used his old name when no one else could hear them, they were supposed to shed them, burn them away, when they joined the order. But each of them knew that the master kept them carefully catalogued, ready to be used to hurt them as effectively as any torture device.

Well, at least you now have a chance to please me and show me you remember who you are...and who your master is.

“I don’t...please…” Caleb whispered, tears running from his cheeks to soak into the ground below.

Silence, Bren. Listen. It appears our relationship with Babenon Dosal has reached the end of its life. You are to defect, immediately, and present yourself to Lorenzo of the Jagenoths. He will find a use for even such as you.

Caleb’s brain could hardly take in what was being said to him, every inch of him shaking like electric currents were running under his skin, “No...no, the prince is my-”

The prince is what I say he is to you. And now he is nothing. I appreciate that you can, at least, summon some loyalty to your former position but I am hereby changing your directive. You serve Lorenzo now. Leave immediately. Do not let me down, Bren. You know the cost.

The revulsion fled as quickly as it had come on and Caleb was left to slump on the ground, tremors still running through him, stomach still painfully contracting as his body tried to remember what it was like to master itself.

It was a long time before he could rise, before there was enough strength in his limbs to hold him. His mind was a flurry of whip cracks, his back burned as if the wounds were minutes old rather than years, his fingers itched to tear his shirt away and find some relief in the night air.

You know the cost.

It was only an echo but upon hearing it, Caleb’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to hold still, he dredged up every scrap of training he could remember, filling his nose with the smell of smoke and burned wood to remind himself who he was and what he was.

Just once, he turned back and looked at the command tent, glowing with warmth at the centre of the camp just a few meters away from where he stood.

“Molly,” he rasped, voice raw and pained, “I’m so sorry.”

He knew his prince couldn’t hear him and saying it out loud brought him no comfort.

Caleb left Frumpkin tied where he was.

It would be easier to approach the Jagenoth camp on foot.

Molly paid little attention to the hours in between hearing Lorenzo’s last words and ending up back in his command tent, slumped down onto his cot while his friends sat around him, too stunned by dismay and grief to even argue much. All he could think of was that smile Lorenzo had worn as he’d turned away, what the cost of that smile could be.

I’m going to die, he thought vaguely, trying it on for size, trying to get his brain to accept the fact. He found he could muster little in response to it.

“We cannot let this happen!” Beau raged for the third time in the last half hour. And just like the other times, no one had anything to say to her.

“It’s our one chance,” Molly found himself saying, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice, “If he can have me, he might leave the rest of you alone. He might leave our people alone.”

“Might,” Yasha repeated, her voice bleak and hard like ice.

“Yes, might,” Molly sighed, “Might is better than nothing.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Beau snapped, tight and tense as a drawn bow as she paced back and forth, “You’re just going to walk up to them like a lamb offering itself up to be slaughtered?”

“It’s the only thing I can do,” Molly leaned back against the canvas, eyes closing though all he saw behind them was that smile again and the image of his father’s crown covered in his mother and sister’s blood, “I can’t fight him. I can’t lead you all to some insane one in a million victory. I can’t talk to him. But I can let him have me and then...then maybe…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to muster the energy to even find the words. Beau’s anger ebbed, showing the fear beneath.

“I’m a terrible prince,” he eventually murmured, eyes opening to not even meet their eyes, voice low and thin as a candle nearly out, “I can’t lead people, I can’t sway people or save them, I can’t ease their hunger or soothe their worries. I thought...I thought maybe I had enough base cunning and enough patter to act like a prince but...that’s all it's ever been. An act. A role I never even wanted. And now...well it’s all caught up with me, hasn’t it? The best hope I have is to die with some dignity and hope it's enough to save all of you.”

“Molly…” Yasha groaned, her voice a soft, sad whisper but it couldn’t reach him.

“An hour before dawn, all of you are going to retreat,” he continued, “Before that even, if you can manage it. I’m putting the lives of the company in your hands, save as many as you can.”

“Molly!” she was exasperated now, her usual calm completely fractured.

“This isn’t a debate anymore,” he shook his head, making himself stand though it was like moving a puppet with half its strings cut, “Just do as I ask. Let me try and accomplish something good with my death. And...if you ever get the chance, if the gods allow it, drink to my name.”

They had no answer to that. It was something of a relief.

“I’ll say my farewells in the morning,” he waved them out limply, “Just send in Caleb and…”

Finally, something pierced through the fog. Frowning, he lifted his head.

“Where is Caleb?”

“After the parley he, uh…” Fjord shrugged helplessly, “He was upset. I think he went to stable Frumpkin, you know how he does.”

“That...that was some time ago,” Caduceus put in slowly, “Hours.”

“I’ll go get him,” Beau shrugged, “Whatever…” She disappeared through the flap, still stomping, shoulders tense and face flushed. Yasha looked after her with soft, sad eyes but didn’t follow, she knew her well enough.

Molly expected the fog to close up around his head again but it didn’t. Something ran around under his skin, a sensation that something was wrong. Which was laughable, seeing as he was about to be killed as soon as the sun came up and possibly all of his friends alongside him at the whim of a madman.

Still, it was there and it irritated him just enough to keep him alert and frowning as more time than should have passed by.

And it was enough that he wasn’t surprised when Beau walked through the tent again, all of her anger replaced by complete and utter shock.

“A messenger,” she said, voice hoarse like the words surprised her even as they left her lips, “A messenger from the Jagenoths, she had the insignia and everything. She gave me this, said it was for your eyes only and just...left.”

This was a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a clumsy black seal like a smear of soot. The design was a crude hook shape. As Molly took it the feeling got worse until it was buzzing like an insect trapped in his skull. It was enough that he hesitated before breaking the seal but their eyes were on him, wary and hesitant and needing to see their prince be brave.

The writing was done in a hurry, the ink splotchy and smudged. Molly had one of those moments where complete insanity threatened to take the place of dread as he imagined Lorenzo’s huge oni fingers trying and failing to hold a quill but it died quickly.

When he read the words, there was no more fog and no more distance. Everything was real and close and far too much, pushing the air out of his lungs and constricting his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Boy, I accept your challenge. Single combat it is, me against the little pup who thought he could snap at me and not pay for it. If I lose, my army turns heel and goes home empty handed. If I win, I kill you and we consider the debt repaid. I was so looking forward to slaughtering every last one of you but your pup made a good point. I get to hold faith with the Jagenoths while my steel gets to see true battle. I’ve never tried a Volstruker before but I’m looking forward to tasting the tears of grief on your face as I push my blade through your heart.

Lorenzo.

“Molly? Molly, what does it say? Hey, it’s okay, just breathe…”

Yasha had taken his arm but Molly barely noticed, he only looked up and found Caleb’s eyes there to accept his own. Of course he’d slipped in while they’d been distracted, of course he chose now to return. At least he had the grace to look ashamed.

“Caleb...” Molly rasped, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw to strike the letter, obscuring the words as if that would mean they’d never been.

The man he loved could only meet his eyes and smile sadly.

“Oh gods, Caleb, what have you done?”

#widomauk #critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #royal au #tw violence #yasha #beau #fjord #caduceus #lorenzo #cr fic #please reblog and comment!#feed your local fic writer!

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ofhoneyblood · 4 years ago

Text

BRYCE ATLAS WINSLOW

pronouns: HE , HIM , HIS

age: THIRTY - EIGHT

species: HUMAN

nationality: IRISH , ITALIAN , AMERICAN

sexuality: PANSEXUAL / DEMIROMANTIC

sign: AQUARIUS SUN , LIBRA MOON , VIRGO RISING

occupation: OWNER & BOUNCER @ RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS

+ traits: INVITING. FAIR. FUNNY. OPEN-MINDED. TOLERANT.

-- traits: GUARDED. DETACHED. DESPERATE. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE.

faceclaim: MILO VENTIMIGLIA

soundscapes: HERE

aesthetic: HERE

yo yo you yo , it’s lydia ( yes , that’s my real name ) here with my noble beast bryce winslow ! i have had bryce as a muse longer than any other and it’s been literal years since i’ve written him so i’m extremely excited. this is the first time he will be milo though and i’m super hype to get things going ! i have headcanon after headcanon for him , so hit me up if you want to do something bc i am ready to do some shit !! again , i’m lydia ( or nary , nettle , snottie , etc. ) and i love a good name change , twenty five years old , pansexual demigirl ( she / her & / or they / them ) residing in the central timezone.

this is THIRTY-EIGHT year old BRYCE WINSLOW , the OWNER OF & BOUNCER AT RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS BURLESQUE AND BOOZE who uses HE / HIM pronouns. he grew up in DUBLIN , IRELAND but came to pleasance in JULY 2006 ON HAPPENSTANCE AND TO RUN AWAY FROM HIS PAST and now enjoys spending his time at FOR KEEPS AND RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS. BRYCE is written by LYDIA.

PERSONALITY

element: air ruling planet: uranus — planet of originality body part: ankles good day: communicative , original , open-minded , fair , logical , inviting , tolerant , funny bad day: guarded , detached , self-destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , desperate , lonely favorite things: dancing , teaching , team sports , anything with a cause or mission , independent films , working out , baths , animals , preserving plant life / flowers , reading least favorite things: injustice , drama queens , feeling isolated , owing money or favors , having to choose just one thing , personal questions , gossip , cigarette smoke secret wish: to experience total freedom how to spot him: a cute smile lighting up a tired face , quirky movements , tired eyes , long legs , big hands , flannel , old beat up truck where you’ll find him: backpacking or hiking , protesting , coaching a team , revolutionizing the industry he works in , the gym , red hot pussy liquors , alone at home , working on a project , taking a walk by northwood lake keywords: friendliness , eccentricity , teamwork , humanitarianism , technology , groups , avant-garde

first thing to know about bryce winslow is that he’s a free-spirit that prizes individuality and plays well on a team. he has been known to do things his own way , moving on a path different from everyone else’s. some call him eccentric , others appreciate his cutting-edge originality and authentic style.

one of the many ways that the irishman is a paradox ? he’s highly individualistic , but also an amazing team player. he might look like the fresh-faced guy next door on the outside , but inside he marches to his own beat. naturally popular , as he’s vibrantly social and loves to be among people , telling jokes and introducing thought-provoking conversation topics.

people truly do make his world go round , and he can become friends with the most random strangers. can be a bit of an alien — a little “ out there ” in his approach to different things. not that he cares about offending anyone ! loves a good casual connection , bryce can disengage as quickly as he connects. in fact , platonic pals sometimes get better treatment than romantic partners.

while he can be a bit unsentimental on a one-on-one level , he can be moved to tears by the plight of animals , the environment or other social justice issues. yes , this big irishman is a bohemian at heart in some ways , but he also gets the job done. as a tenacious aquarius , he can be quite hardworking when he devotes himself to a goal.

a competitive ( and lesser-known ) type a streak can emerge when he really wants something. nothing turns him on like progress , especially in the name of his grander ideals ! playing hard to get REALLY works on him lol

philanthropic and objective , bryce is in a lot of ways innovative and avant-garde. from experimental electronic music to community-oriented living , there’s nothing that this man hasn’t or won’t explore. as someone who loves being a part of a good group or team , bringing people together is also one of his specialties.

intense bryce energy is cutting-edge , “ out there ” and even a little strange at times. a total nerd for all things futuristic , science fiction and wacky inventions. no topic is too cutting-edge with this irishman: extraterrestrials , stem cells , cloning , robots taking over the earth…yup , bryce will go there.

while he likes to influence rebellion and detaching from reality ( c’mon bryce , back to earth ! ) , he likes to help others see possibilities they wouldn’t otherwise. the essence of his true energy is: community-oriented , original , open-minded , fair , logical , humanitarian , connecting , and inviting.

the negative expression of bryce’s energy can be: guarded , detached , destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , and desperate. reluctant to express emotions — the irishman prefers rational reasoning and cool-headed logic to the messy tapestry of the human feelings.

one of his favorite authors is ayn rand , founder of the objectivist movement , and that’s pretty much all you need to know. objectivism has been a major influence on the libertarian movement , which has a real bryce flavor. it’s an organized system that also preserves individual freedom and limits government intervention. it’s very “ fringe ” and mainstream all at once , a fascinating paradox and something that really intrigues him.

playful gusts and a social butterfly whirlwind combines into a gale force of humanitarianism for all. bryce is a visionary , dreaming up quirky utopias and alternative realities that can shake up the status quo. emotional detachment , unpredictable energy and rebellion are major factors in the irishman’s personality. not going to lie , he can be “ type a “ and totally quirky all at the same time ??

a stabilizer — the one who sets up a solid goal or foundation then starts building. bryce can take the enthusiastic idea that someone else sparks and craft it into something real. he picks up the ball when another passes it , running the distance to the goal.

the trustworthy type who likes “ to-do ” lists and fancy titles. if a friend says , “ let’s go on vacation ! ” he’s already calling the travel agency , booking the tickets and hotel , and sending everyone a list of what to pack.

true believer in friendship and teamwork , so bryce tends to be more focused on a group than an individual. freedom is important to him , which is why he likes to keep things light on an interpersonal level. that way , he won’t feel bad about running off to the opposite corner of the world at a moment’s notice.

at times , this nomadic strategy backfires , leaving him lonely and disconnected. in truth , the irishman is uncomfortable with too much intimacy. this free spirit belongs to the world and feels off-balance giving his considerable energy to just one person.

while bryce’s friends get first-class treatment , family and lovers see a different side of him: moody , brooding , anxious and neurotic. he may pick one ( and only one ) person to open up to , getting attached to the point of obsession.

learning to accept and express his emotions would help him avoid the massive freak outs and anger flashes that come from pretending everything’s cool when it isn’t. bryce appreciates a quirky or eccentric twist , enjoying colorful characters and people with counter cultural personalities.

BIOGRAPHY

bryce atlas winslow was born into a very straight lace , play by the rules , catholic family. his father , matteo winslow , was an italian military man and his mother , deirdre winslow , was a cold irish homemaker. matteo was every bit the ‘ man of the family ’ and bryce grew up only answering to his father. deirdre would only every answer a question with ‘ ask yer da ’ or ‘ dija’ ask yer da ? ’

she was a mostly spineless , god fearing woman that was afraid of her own shadow and that’s what made her such a good puppet for matteo. bryce’s father was a stern , angry man that only grew angrier when drunk , no one dared put even a single toe out of line with him around.

( TW: implied child abuse ) with bryce being the first born and only son he was expected to be perfect , from a very young age he felt the pressures of that. it was like walking on eggshells , always afraid of making a mistake or displeasing his father. he did not have the fun , happy-go-lucky innocence a child should expect of their early years ; instead for bryce winslow there was not much more than discipline , hard work , and punishment.

for the most part , bryce succeeded at being the perfect son his father expected him to be — a robot more than an actual living boy. nothing more than a machine , a machine being bred for war.

it wasn’t until the beginning of his secondary school , when puberty and hormones began blossoming , that things became precarious. voice cracks , uneven patches of hair…. oh , and a sudden sexual desire for the same sex.

( TW: suicide ment. ) now , the winslows were catholic - extremely devout catholics - and bryce grew very self-loathing and afraid in this confusing time. he contemplated suicide , all because ‘ homosexuality was wrong ‘ and ‘ you go straight to hell ‘ if you engage in anything associated with it. it didn’t matter how good of a son you were , because ‘ man shall not lie with man. ‘ he kept it hidden for years , he also managed not to act on it until well into the last year of secondary school.

despite bryce’s fears and shame , when he was sixteen he fell in love for the first time. first loves can be explosive , dangerous even and this one was nothing short of just that. the boy kept his forbidden love a secret from everyone , his family and father above all others.

all good things must come to an end though or so they say , for the boys it came far sooner than later. matteo , bryce’s father , happened upon a note from the boy bryce was seeing , cian , and in said note was all sorts of information including a meeting spot. as you can imagine , matteo flew from the house in a drunken rage in search of his “ sinner “ of a son only to catch him red-handed.

( TW: assault , child abuse ) bryce managed to save cian from his father’s wrath , taking the brunt of the attack. cian watched as bryce was beaten , begging and screaming for the man to stop , that he was killing him. the drunken bigot was turning on the younger boy when bryce told him to leave and never come back , so that is what he did.

( TW: implied abuse ) to this day , he has never laid eyes on his young lover and that was probably for the best. after his father had tired himself out and satisfied his rage , he left his son there in the dirt and the beaten boy didn’t bother moving.

( TW: suicidal thoughts , conversion therapy ment. ) will to live depleted , too tired to go on , pain too much to endure — he just slept there until the next morning. he was awoken with a kick of dirt in the face , his father telling him that he was being sent to a ‘’ special ’’ facility where they would get rid of his ‘’ ailment. ’’

( TW: conversion therapy / facility ) time melded in the facility , but he estimated nearly a year of his life was wasted away in there. resistant and defiant for most of his time there , it wasn’t until his father visited him , the one and only time . that things changed.

( TW: suicide ment. , homophobia ) his father brought news that his mother had killed herself but this was a vicious lie , a last ditch effort to get bryce to change his ways and boy , did it work ! hardly a month later , the young man was discharged from the facility only to find his mother was indeed very much alive.

matteo up and moved his entire family to england after bryce got out of the facility. his father gave him nonsense about wanting to get away from the bad memories , starting over new , and ‘ lead not into temptation ‘ by sending him back to school with ‘ sinners ’ and ‘ sodomites. ‘

so , bryce finished out the remainder of his schooling in england and went straight into the forces as per his father’s wishes. sadly for him , he would never become what he so longed to be. he had just finished boot camp and life had just started to seem somewhat normal - if you can call anything the winslow’s had normal - when he lost it all.

( TW: eye injury ) the young man was honorably discharged after an accident that left him legally blind in one eye , when he returned home after his short stent in the defense forces there was no longer a place in the family for him. his father quite literally disowned him all for something he had no control over , a mere accident , but there was nothing more disappointing to matteo than a son that was ‘ kicked out ‘ of the forces.

( TW: gang ment. , human trafficking ) fast forward a year , bryce had found himself in a gang. this part of his background is the most unresolved seeing as it’s not part of his original backstory. long story short , he was involved with the gang until he was twenty three but it all became too much for him after his boss tried to involve him in human trafficking.

( TW: gang ment. , suicide , death ) when you join a gang you don’t usually do it thinking someday you might one day retire or quit said gang , but then as you get older you realize you’re not as tough as you thought. bryce was twenty-three when his mother finally really did ‘ commit suicide ‘ , the first time his father spoke to him since he returned home from the forces was only to blame him for her death.

( TW: death ment. , implied murder ) honestly , it was just the straw that broke the camels back. bryce wasn’t allowed at the funeral or anywhere near it , he’s almost certain his mother’s death wasn’t by her own hand or an accident but he’ll never truly know. after he was certain she was in the ground , bryce fled to america in the hopes of outrunning the gang and getting lost in the melting pot.

once in the land of opportunity , he got his hands on the cheapest ride he could find first and just started driving. it was well after his twenty-fourth birthday , right smack in the middle of a hot ass summer in ‘06 , that he found himself in pleasance of all places. he never had any intention at all to grow roots there , it simply happened.

other than that , the man busies himself with drying and preserving flowers , taking baths , working out , and playing with his dog. he parades around like this big , tough hard ass when in reality he’s quite the domestic goofball type.

ETC.

has a dog , it’s a beagle named shiloh literally

a big hobby of his is preserving flowers in his spare time , he keeps a small book of pressed flowers and plant life on him a lot of the time in the chance he comes across something he wants to preserve

can play guitar and doesn’t have a bad singing voice either

legally blind in one eye , but doesn’t wear his glasses often

has a younger sister that he does keep in contact with , but not very well ( WC ? )

a guilty pleasure of his is taking baths ; he enjoys adding bath salts , flowers , and other so-called ‘ feminine ‘ products like bath bombs , etc. to them and honestly takes one nearly every day

he was born and raised mostly in dublin , ireland and has a thick accent that only gets thicker when intoxicated or angry. he does use a lot of uncommon terminology to american’s ( yes , i own the feckin’ book of everything irish. . . it’s that serious ) but i’ll lyk in the tags what it means unless i forget

@phqextras

#DOSSIER.#phqintro #phqextras #am i doing this right ?#idk

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lee-jinkis-ponytail · 4 years ago

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Meet the Players of Haunts & Hellhounds: Tatiana Davis

“Tat” - 18 - Party Role: Rogue

Tatiana truly believes in the Dungeon Crawlers’ Union chances of survival, if only they’d all refuse to give into the warlock Grimm Morreaux’s stupid, bigoted rules and play to their own strengths, rather than letting him divide and conquer. If nothing else, the DCU streamers share a love of tabletop RPGs. Certainly they can all band together to survive a real one. Right?

Read on for H&H stats, current status, backstory, and fears.

SPOILER WARNING: If you have not finished the most recent chapter of Haunts & Hellhounds over on Wattpad, and you wish to avoid spoilers (including whether the character has survived thus far), DO NOT read past this break.

The most recent chapter is: Chapter 7. *New chapters every Friday at 4PM EST!* :)

Haunt & Hellhound Level & Trope: LVL3 Recluse

EXP: 500

Student Background: Freshman, Studio Art & Chemistry Double Major, Minor in Women’s Studies

Alignment: Neutral Good

Defense Stat: 16

HP Maximum: 25 Current HP: 25

SP Maximum: 23 Current SP: 23

MP: 25 Current MP: 25 Spell Attack Bonus: +4 Death Saves: -Successes: ( ) ( ) ( ) -Failures: ( ) ( ) ( ) Hit Dice: 2d8 (unarmed) or 2d10 (armed)

Proficiency Bonus: +2

Attributes (* = proficient): (1) Strength: 10 (+0) (2) Dexterity*: 13 (+2) (3) Constitution: 12 (+1) (4) Knowledge*: 12 (+1) (5) Serenity*: 15 (+2) (6) Charisma: 10 (+0)

Skills (* = proficient): (1) Acrobatics (Dex)(+2) (2) Alchemy & Chemistry* (Kno)(+5) (3) Animal Handling (Cha)(+0) (4) Arcana & Witchcraft* (Ser)(+6) (5) Athletics (Str)(+0) (6) Crafting* (Dex)(+5) (7) Deception (Cha)(+0) (8) History & Lore (Kno)(+1) (9) Insight (Kno)(+1) (10) Intimidation & Distraction (Cha)(+0) (11) Investigation (Kno)(+1) (12) Perception (Ser)(+2) (13) Persuasion (Cha)(+0) (14) Religion & Occultism* (Kno)(+5) (15) Sanity* (Ser)(+5) (16) Sleight of Hand (Dex)(+2) (17) Stealth* (Dex)(+4) (18) Survival (Kno)(+1) (19) Technology (Kno)(+1)

Extra Proficiences: (1) Yoga & Meditation: Tatiana enjoys attending campus yoga classes. As a result, she can roll all sanity checks at an advantage and gains an additional +1 to her Sanity skill on top of her serenity and proficiency bonuses. (2) Chemist: Tatiana majors in Chemistry. As a result, she is proficient in the Alchemy/Chemistry skill and gains +2 points in that skill, on top of her knowledge and proficiency bonuses. (3) English: This character speaks English. (4) Wiccan: Tatiana has found comfort in the Wiccan faith and regularly practices spellcraft. She is proficient in both Arcana/Witchcraft, and Religion/Occultism. She also gains an additional +2 points to both skills on top of the proficiency and attribute bonuses. (5) Artist: As a Studio Art major, Tatiana has a knack for creativity. She is proficient in crafting, and also gains an additional +1 on top of her proficiency and dexterity modifiers. Abilities: (1) Sound Mind: As a Recluse, this character is well-versed in the horror genre and can take whatever it throws her way. She will always roll sanity saving throws at an advantage. (2) Vanishing Act: This character is stealthy, and can blend into the shadows. Once per battle, she may choose to disengage the enemy without the risk of the enemy making an attack of opportunity.

Inventory: -2 pockets (cell phone, health potion) -Backpack (lucky amethyst, regular sized bag of potato chips, anxiety medication [5 pills left], mana potion, $30, large empty pocket) -1-handed weapon: ceremonial dagger

Appearance: -Brown eyes -Long, curly, dark hair, currently half-up in a braid crown -5′5″ -Short, average build -Septum piercing, several tattoos on arms and collarbone/chest -Wearing 2 layered tank tops, denim shorts, a belt, and ballet flats

Backstory & Personality: A week before graduating high school, Tatiana came out to her then-boyfriend as bisexual. He immediately called her a cheater and dumped her, and the next day he outed her to the entire school and claimed she’d cheated on him. Within a matter of hours, Tatiana went from being one of the most well-liked among her peers to pariah status. The bullying became so bad, she decided not to attend her graduation ceremony. Luckily, Tat’s open-minded parents helped her through the situation, putting her in therapy to help her cope with the trauma and talking candidly with her about their support of her. But not a single one of her high school friends stuck by her side, even when she told them the truth: that, yes, she’s bi, but she’s also monogamous and never once even thought about cheating on her ex. She wants nothing more than to live her life as herself. But ever since graduation, she’s found it hard to open up to anybody about her sexuality. She’s as friendly and sociable as she ever was, but if anyone asks her any questions about herself, she immediately puts up her guard and diverts the conversation to another topic. Instead, she channels her pain through therapy and art, often painting wistful portraits of androgynous couples embracing, dancing, and living their lives freely. Which is why Tatiana finds such solace in tabletop RPGs. In the gaming world she can get a tiny taste of what it’s like to live a life that she believes she can never have. When she approached Laurie Prescott about starting the Dungeon Crawlers’ Union stream, she stressed the importance of building a safe play space for anyone of any background; none of the fantasy worlds they visited should be allowed to have any racism, sexism, homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, or any discrimination towards marginalized groups. Laurie and the others don’t know why Tat was so insistent on building such a space, and they never asked, but they’ve all been happy to comply. And she will always be grateful to them for that. Thanks to the DCU, Tat can fantasize about being free to love whoever she wants without judgement, always playing puckish rogues and flirtatious bards. She wants desperately to admit to her fellow streamers that her characters are really just an extension of herself--“self-inserts,” so to speak. But the other players aren’t really open about their personal lives. Like Tat, they change the subject abruptly if they’re ever asked about anything other than gaming. Throughout high school, Tat made friends so easily, and she worries that since she was outed without her consent, she’s forgotten how to truly open up and connect with others. She constantly wonders what she’s doing wrong and why she can’t quite break the ice in the group. And that is why she picked the role of the Recluse to play in Haunts & Hellhounds. She feels she never really shed the “pariah” label even after leaving her high school, moving to another state, and starting fresh in college. However, Tatiana believes that all four of the DCU streamers can make it out of the dungeon alive--if only they can be honest with one another and play to their strengths instead of the weaknesses that the warlock Grimm Morreaux seems so determined to impose upon them all.

Favorite Horror Movie: Nightbreed -- “'If we want to survive, we can’t hide.’ What a line. I love everything Clive Barker does, but Nightbreed is especially close to my heart.” Horror Movie She Will absolutely NEVER Watch Because It Is Just Too Spooky: The Cabin in the Woods -- “You know, I used to love this movie. But now that we’re kind of living it, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stomach it again. If we survive, that is. Wait--what am I saying? We will. We’re gonna survive.”

#writeblr #horror #writer #haunts and hellhounds #wip #oc #original character #tatiana davis #tat

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yuniv-bluetea · 5 years ago

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Mrs. Stacy & Anne

requested by @annessnowqueen “Please, sit down Anne.” The sky turned dark as Anne Shirley Cuthbert sat down facing Mrs. Stacy. After Mrs.Stacy told the class that they were no longer allowed to publish their newspaper she let them all go home sooner. All except Anne. Disappointment was an understatement for what her class and she felt hearing these crucial news. Anne could feel their stares right away. Pricking like thorns through her skin. “I guess..”, Mrs.Stacy bend down and laid the newspaper on her desk, “you know why you're still here ?” Anne just nodded as she lifted her head to glance at the windows. Watching raindrops streaming down the window panes caused her to smile a little. “Isn't it tragical how even the universe seems to be in pain ? Not able to hold back the tears beca-.” “ You had no right to print this article without my approval and share it with the whole village ! The Andrews' are in rage over the way you demonized their son. Our newspaper is on ice, the hard work of your classmate destroyed through your action.... I'm dissappointed in y-” Suprised at her own furiousness Mrs.Stacy began to calm down again when she saw Anne's trembling body. Before Mrs.Stacy could do anything Anne stood up and looked her right in the eye. “ Billy Andrews had no right to touch Josie without her consent ! He then spread nasty rumours about her, because she didn't gave him what he wanted. S-She had to feel his lips on her lips.. His hands on her body without having a something to say about it. There is no way anyone could describe that as an... accident or.. her.. fault when it was clearly Billy who took advantage of her ! He's a threat !”, with shaking fists Anne took a deep breath. “I never mentioned his name or Josie's in the article. My article is about the right of us women. Our right to say no ! To be the master of our body and soul ! We are so much more than some toys for dumb, dimwitted, atrocious people like Billy, aren't we ? Actually, no one should be somebody's toy. So..I'm delighted to hear that the people think about what happened between Billy and Josie when they read my words. Josie did no wrong. And Billy should take the consequences for his obnoxious move on Josie !” Anne did not knew when tears started to form in her eyes as she kept on talking fast. “ I'm certainly not sorry for my words ! And I shall never be even when everyone else expect me to feel some kind of shame for my article. It would have felt utterly wrong if I did nothing to help my friend. Help her voice her anger and despair ! Call out for justice !” Now, she felt how she began to sob. “But..I'm sorry that my decision harmed our newspaper. And that I disappointed you which is really something I never wanted to do... I..I guess I'm wicked after all.” Without any second thought Mrs.Stacy wrapped her arms around her student leaving her barely room to breath. “No..No you're not”, Mrs.Stacy whispered as she had to fight back the tears. Slowly Anne disengaged from the hug and whipped her tears away. “I'm not ?”, “No..And I actually really like your article”, a smile formed on Mrs.Stacy lips “it is magnificent.” “But I would have prefered if you would have told me about the article before..So that we could have better planned how we proceed in this difficult situation.“ Anne nodded as hope returned back to her. “You can't imagine how relieved I am now, Mrs.Stacy ! And I'm deeply sorry for not telling you about the article.. But I assumed you would not let me do it, if I had asked you about it.” “True, indeed.” They shared a laugh. Looking eye to eye Mrs.Stacy offered to bring Anne home which she accepted. The rain may have stopped falling but it still was unusual dark for a summer day in Avonlea.

On their walk to Green Gables they exchanged idea what they could do to rescue their newspaper and help Josie. “We could organize a protest..if the others are willing to help”, Anne suggested still feeling like everyone is mad at her. “I'm sure they won't mind. They were just a bit..you know... It's a good idea and we should at least give it a try, shouldn't we ?” “ Absolutely, I already have soooo many ideas for the signs !” “Thank you for escorting me home, Mrs.Stacy.” “ Have a nice day..and Anne ?” “Yes, Mrs.Stacy ?” “You're not alone. We are all here to support you, so please don't always handle the things on your own when you have people who can and want to help you. You can't do everything on your own. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about.” “I know..I feel truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life.” Satisfied with herself Mrs.Stacy went home. At first she felt so powerless because she did not know how to help Anne. But now she knew what she could do for her student, for each of her students and their newspaper. She also was sure that she could believe Anne's accusation regarding Billy Andrews. Especially after Anne told her about the encounter she had with Billy in the woods when they passed the place on their way to Green Gables. Anne told her how lucky she was that someone rescued her from him fearing what could have happened if this one person - whose name Anne did not found important enough to mention- would not have appeared. Billy Andrews was a threat. And Mrs.Stacy swore herself as she opened the door to her house that she would make sure that he would get the penalty he deserved but also help for changing himself. Because at the end of the day his bad behaviour must come from somewhere. Mrs.Stacy was ready to fight for her students,their newspaper and the rights of woman !

---------------------------------- Omg that was a hard one.. Especially because I wanted to show that nobody deserves to be treated this way and it is not always so that men are the offender and such things. Hope you like it..And I'm excited but also terrified because of Episode 7 !

#anne with an e #awae #awae season 3 #muriel stacy #anne shirley cuthbert #awae s2 #awae spoilers

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ashleylikeshorror · 5 years ago

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Positive by David Wellington: An Honest Review

So, I recently moved and my new place has a bath tub. What does that have to do with this book, you ask? It has nothing to do with the book; I’m just fucking stoked beyond belief that I can go back to reading in a hot, steamy bathtub full of salts and surrounded by candles. The reality of that has less candles and more of my husband barging in to piss, but nonetheless - I’m back to reading in a hot bath. First book I chose due to the recommendation I’d seen on Reddit was David Wellington’s “Positive”.

* * There’s going to be spoilers, so read ahead at your own risk. * *

This novel started off a bit slow then got heated quite quick. What drew me in wasn’t the writing - Lord knows it wasn’t that (I’ll elaborate later) - but how traumatic of an experience we started off with. The complications of this one moment sets the tone for the rest of the novel as well as opens our main character, Finnegan’s, eyes to the reality of the world and just how sheltered he is. However, once our character is “introduced to the world” (as I call it), nothing bad really happens to him. Wellington keeps our character in a nice little protective bubble, safe from harm and repercussions.

Red Kate, our first character introduced to us outside of the friends and family of Finnegan, talks a whole lotta cheesy “I’m a big bad guy” bullshit then runs off. This sets the stage for Adare, the next big bad guy to enter, but we don’t ever get to see WHY he’s bad. We just know he’s a pedophile with a harem of underage girls and he has loads of street cred with the Army and the other looters. No character development here - at all - so these characters are easily forgettable. So forgettable in fact, that the author feels the need to continuously mention them or have them pop up throughout the novel in a “don’t forget about me!” way that reads more “IT WAS ME! DIO!” instead of “Oh no! Not those guys!”

Speaking of character development, there’s only two characters in this novel who actually grow. Kylie and Finnegan’s best friend, Ike. Kylie is an understandably damaged individual when we meet her, and I fucking adore the fact that when the book ends, it ends as realistically as possible with her character by leaving her just as damaged but working through it. As someone with PTSD myself, I know if I was in a novel, I’d be emotionally disengaged in the beginning and just as compromised, but operating with a day-by-day mentality, She is probably the only rational character throughout the entire novel as well, which is supremely disappointing that Wellington doesn’t treat her as such, but rather writes her as a continuous damsel-in-distress type who needs a man to protect her (Adare first then Finnegan). Huge fucking WOMP WOMP that is.

Moving on, but also kind of backtracking: THE PLOT ARMOR IS FUCKING ATROCIOUS. Did Finnegan get stuck on a sign? Goody! One of the more well known, lethal looters wants him as a “son”. The ideal place he was struggling so hard to get to wasn’t as ideal as promised? Don’t worry! One of the major bosses within it takes a general liking to ya, Finn! That and your best friend joined the army and can help ya not fucking starve! Literally every single moment plot armor makes a HUGE presence that is both excruciatingly painful to read as it is dishearteningly predictable.

(Finnegan roaming the world’s post apocalyptic remains)

Even with plot armor aside, David Wellington has succeeding in making the most unlikable main character I’ve ever had the displeasure of following along. 500 plus pages of hard headed, blatantly stupid decisions. Granted, he is extremely ignorant to the ways of the world outside of where he grew up in New York, to just be thrown into the landscape as it is, is both intimidating and confusing. However, just because he has great intentions and is the leading man in our story, we’re supposed to believe that in the span of a year or so (two at the most) that he has become the fucking mayor of a makeshift city? Our character meets some pretty vile people along the way, yet he miraculously is kept alive on their behalf because... I genuinely don’t know why. There’s excuse after excuse, plot armor after plot armor, that keeps our leading ignoramus alive. “Exhausting” doesn’t truly capture the emotion of it all.

The most discouraging thing about this book is absolutely everything about how it was handled. Disregarding Finnegan, Kylie, the zombies, and literally every person and thing else in this book, let’s just discuss how Wellington chose to write this. Why, sir... Why did you decide to write well over 100 chapters consisting of no more than 8 or 10 pages that don’t really say much of anything at all? Let me put it this way: The events in Positive are so rushed that even Gohan couldn’t see what just happened.

Everything is briefly touched on and we’re constantly moving to the next thing with little disregard for what just went down. How the events that transpire in the book are written is more suited for a cheesy teenage drama on CW - not a book. Had Wellington taken his time, not tried so hard to pile up the drama (there's enough drama alone with being in a post apocalyptic environment) on top of drama, and actually invested in his character growing as a person instead of conveniently writing up a miracle solution for everything that happens, this book could have been a great novel.

The premise of him losing his family the way Finn did was great. Finn having to survive in the world on his own, and as someone who's seen as a risk? OK - tell me the deets. Everything else after Finn meeting Adare? If I didn't read this book for free, I'd be taking it back to the store. (Thanks, Scribd!)

Long post short (too late for that, but I digress). this book was a major bummer. I was hyped up for a intense, high-stakes journey involving zombies. In reality, that’s about 4,000 yards away from what I got. While I appreciate that the zombies were more of a background presence, and much like The Walking Dead - people are the real threat, it just didn’t scratch the itch I had in regards of wanting a great, even decent, post apocalyptic read..

2 out of 5 stars.

TLDR: Not the best thing to read during a pandemic, but it’s an easy read that can fill the time if you can get past the abundance of plot armor and lack of character development.

#david wellington #positive #zombie #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #walkers #infected #disease #pandemic #scribd #spoiler alert #gifs #review #book review #staythefuckathome #government #army

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kcwcommentary · 5 years ago

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VLD7x04 – “The Feud!”

7x04 – “The Feud!”

Can anyone tell me what the point of this episode is? I truly do not understand why this episode exists. Not only was this episode written, it was written by the (until part way through this season) Story Editor for this show Tim Hedrick. Even with episodes I think are a waste of time like 4x04 “The Voltron Show!” or 8x07 “Day Forty-Seven” or 8x08 “Clear Day,” I still at least recognize something of the writer’s intention, but I have no idea what the point of “The Feud!” is. There are episodes of this series that I really don’t like, but I haven’t dreaded rewatching any of them the way I dreaded rewatching this one. I don’t think there’s an episode of this show that I hate more than this one.

There is only one interpretation that I can think of for this episode, and it makes Tim Hedrick look extremely petty and unprofessional (see the end of this commentary).

The episode, with the juxtaposition of the visual design and the episode title, is clearly a reference to old gameshows like Family Feud. Voltron Legendary Defender’s target audience was young kids, and it’s hard for me to imagine anyone that young being familiar with old gameshows, so I have no idea how anyone thought this gameshow pastiche would be appealing to them.

I guess this episode is supposed to be funny. Nothing about this episode makes me laugh.

The Paladins are a team on a gameshow. Shiro continues to not be part of the team. Keith, Pidge, Lance, Hunk, and Allura are all being forced to participate. They are disoriented and have no idea where they are or why they’re here. Pidge says, “The last thing I remember, we were all flying in our Lions.” So, Hunk’s declaration near the end of last episode that the Lions were “in worse shape than ever,” meant absolutely nothing. There is no resolution of the Lions being without power. The show just ignores what it had set up.

Is Bob supposed to be funny? I have never understood why shows – VLD is not alone in this – do episodes with inscrutable characters like Bob. Some faux-mysterious other-being that causes things to happen, functions in some ways like a chaos-agent, but the narrative never gives any real explanation to why the character does what they do. It is fundamentally bad writing to ever have a character whose motivation is nonexistent.

Bob tells the Paladins that they have to win this game or be “trapped here in our studio for the rest of eternity.” Whatever threat that is supposed to have is instantly nonexistent. Of course, the Paladins are getting out of this since there’s more show to go. By using faux-threat like this, by using something so over-the-top severe, the episode causes the audience to instantly disengage with the plot. A story having too much threat can actually turn into having no threat.

Bob locks the Paladins’ feet to the floor, the camera and sound of his voice go over-the-top menacing, and he says, “You will play my game as long as I want you to.” Because everything Bob says is meaningless, the faux-threat just feels absurd.

The laugh track I guess is just part of the old gameshow pastiche that they used for this episode. Laugh tracks have always seemed like lies to me. I don’t like an episode telling me, laugh here. And since this episode is not funny, every time I hear the laugh track, I wonder, did the people who worked on this episode actually think this was funny?

Bob magically infantilizes Keith by putting a pacifier in his mouth while Keith has to draw something for the other Paladins to guess. I guess it’s supposed to be funny that the other Paladins have trouble guessing what Keith’s drawing, but it’s not funny. Allura correctly guesses Arusian for the first drawing, after Lance thinks it’s a chicken and Pidge yells at him. For the second drawing, it’s clearly a sword, and Lance guesses “chopsticks,” which when Pidge yells at him again, he modifies to “space chopsticks.” Pidge gets the correct Blade of Marmora guess. Third guess goes to Hunk who, after cycling through all of the colors, answers Red Lion. The last drawing is of Haggar, which Lance calls “pepperoni, an alligator, a cave, windy cave, […] a thermos,” and Allura slams the platform/desk they’re standing at and yells, “Lance, will you stop talking!”

I hate that this episode has everyone treat Lance like this.

They fail to get the last one in time. And then the “other team” is introduced. Zarkon, Haggar, Lotor, and an “insignificant underling” Morvok. I don’t have any idea what the purpose of bringing them into this is. They don’t behave like the characters actually behave in the show. They’re not even caricatures of the characters used as some form of self-referential meta-analysis.

The instant Zarkon is told to guess Keith’s last drawing, of course he’s going to get it right, and he even clearly knows he knows the answer, but it feels like forever for him to just get on with it and say the answer. I guess it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s not.

Lotor rants about “spending centuries perfecting my exquisite life-like renderings, not that you cared,” Haggar touches Lotor on the arm and says, “I treasured your art,” and he recoils from her, saying, “Don’t touch me you filthy, filthy hag.” This moment feels like the show is criticizing Lotor for his rejection of Haggar, like it’s presenting Haggar as being not-that-bad, like Lotor is unjust in his hating Haggar. It’s offensive to me. If the most wanted production goal of this series was the EPs wanting Keith as Black Paladin, it seems like the second most wanted production goal was to retcon Haggar. Haggar was a horrible person, and the show’s insistence that we change to see her instead as a good person to whom bad things happened honestly feels like the show is gaslighting the audience. Zarkon then yells at Lotor, Lotor hits Morvok, and Bob looks at the camera and says, “Family, am I right?”

The whole moment is about presenting Lotor as the unreasonable one, like he’s responsible for Zarkon abusing him, and all of Haggar’s abuse is somehow our misinterpretation of her character. It’s played like abuse is funny. “Family, am I right?” How about, no.

Zarkon plays some card out of nowhere that makes the next Paladin have to play alone, and Zarkon picks “the dumb one.” The camera zooms in on Lance, who turns to his supposed friends and asks, “Who’s he talking about?” The laugh track laughs.

Lance is “dumb,” isn’t that funny? What is wrong with this show? What is wrong with the people who made this show? What is wrong with Tim Hedrick for writing this? What is wrong with Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery for approving this script? What is wrong with the people at Dreamworks for approving this script?

It would be different if Zarkon called Lance “dumb” and the other Paladins, Lance’s supposed friends, came to his defense. But they don’t. I can only then think that the EPs and the writers of this show do think of Lance as “the dumb one” and that they think it’s funny to write him that way.

Bob sends the gameshow to an advertisement break, and as they’re transitioning out, Lance continues, “Wait, I’m the dumb one?” It kind of makes me want to cry, like it hurts me that the show is treating Lance like this.

There’s an advertisement for that store in 2x07 “Space Mall,” where Lance and Pidge got the Kaltenecker. The alien salesperson doesn’t act here like he did there. The whole advertisement sequence is a total waste of time. I guess it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s not.

Coming back from the break, Bob again refers to Lance as “the dumb one.” Lance reacts, “I’m not too happy being referred to as ‘the dumb one’ like 18 times.” Bob looks at the camera, says, “Oh, it was only about four times, you big dumb-dumb,” and the laugh track laughs.

What is wrong with this show?

Lance has to play “Faces from the Past,” Bob asks Lance if he knows how the game works, Lance says an assumptive yes, and Bob looks at the camera and says, “What do you think, audience, do we believe this beautiful dumb-dumb?” The audience yells, “No!”

What is wrong with this show? What is wrong with the people who made this?

Lance is placed in an “isolation shield,” a clear tube with a mouth on top of it. The first “face from the past” almost lands on Kolivan before shifting at the last second to a faceless member of the Blade of Marmora. There’s no way for Lance to know who this guy is. There’s no way for anyone to know who he is because he’s wearing the traditional Blade of Marmora facemask that conceals his identity. Keith points to his blade, Bob says “that’s a pretty big clue,” but how’s it a clue?

I don’t even know why I’m arguing with this episode. This episode is total crap.

Lance guesses, “Blade… y. Bladey?” The answer is Antok. Everyone else acts like it’s absurd to not know Antok. The only absurd thing is that not just someone, but several people in this show’s production actually thought this was a script worth producing.

I would rather watch 23 minutes of the form-Voltron animation over and over than this episode.

The next face is one of the mermaid people with a squid on her head. Lance knows her as “the serious one.” He knows things she did, but not her name, which is apparently Swirn. The next face almost stops on Nyma, but then shifts at the last second to Rolo. Lance has trouble remembering his name, the other Paladins use their arms to spell out Rolo. Lance runs out of time, and then the Paladins change their arms to spell out “kill.”

The episode literally has Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith express anger and frustration at Lance by saying they want to kill him. What is wrong with this show and what is wrong with the people who made it?

To the audience’s cheers, Bob explains that if Lance misses the next one, he’ll “be forced to hit this button, which will shoot you out of the studio and into the layer of the snick,” which is some big, insect-like or crab-like creature. The last face is Bii-Boh-Bi. How nice of this worthless episode to reference that worthless episode. Lance correctly and instantly answers this one.

Team Zarkon are dropped through a hole in the floor. Their purpose in the episode is concluded. I still don’t what the point of any of this episode is though. Bob brings out Bii-Boh-Bi. This character was not funny in the past, he’s not funny now. Bob continues to call Lance “dumb-dumb.”

Lance has to answer five questions correctly or end up in a tank of percolating green liquid “where [he’ll] be slowly cooked alive.” Bii-Boh-Bi is giving clues to Lance while the weird mouth on the top of the tube Lance is in starts swallowing the tube.

Lance says, “I have no idea what’s happening right now.” Same here, Lance.

Lance somehow guesses various “bi”s and “bo”s correctly. I guess it’s supposed to be funny, but it’s not. Lance does not get the last one correct, the mouth swallows him, and he gets ejected into the tank of liquid.

There’s another advertisement, this time for Vrepit Sal’s. Thankfully, at least, it’s quicker than the previous advertisement.

Lance says the liquid feels like it’s exfoliating him, and Bob replies, “Eventually it will eat through your skin.” There is something seriously wrong with the people who worked on this show, especially Tim Hedrick.

Bob asks the Paladins, who is going to play to free Lance, “who’s the brainiest of the team?” and they all instantly answer, Pidge. She has to play a hole of miniature golf. It takes a lot of time for her to set up her shot, which I guess is supposed to be funny. Pidge seems to accidentally hit the ball into the camera and then into Bob, but it’s clear she meant to do that as she tackles Bob to the ground, trying to arrange a chance for them to escape. Bob teleports back to his normal center-stage position, Pidge and Lance are teleported back to the rest of the group, and they’re now in the final stage of the gameshow. It makes no sense.

Bob says, “One of you will now be allowed to leave the game, the rest of you will be staying here with me forever.” They have to write down who they think should be the one to leave. Hunk votes for Allura because she’s “the princess, and she’s such a natural leader, you know. The universe needs her more than it needs the rest of us, plain and simple.” Of course, the show hasn’t had Allura be a leader since, like, season three.

Allura votes for Pidge, “She and her family have the best chance of rebuilding what my father started.” I guess this “rebuilding” is supposed to be a reference to the Castle Ship and Atlas? I would think Coran would be more capable than Pidge’s family at building a new Castle Ship since he spent the whole show maintaining and running the Castle nearly by himself.

Lance votes for Keith, “He’s our leader, plus he’s half-Galra, so I think he’s like, the future.” What does this mean? How is being half-Galra the future? Lotor was half-Galra too, but Lance certainly didn’t think of Lotor as being “the future.” Why is the show placing worth and value on a person based on this? This honestly feels racist. It’s like it’s a statement that Galra-supremacy is valid, so Zarkon was right the entire time?

Keith votes for Lance, saying, “I just don’t want to be stuck here for eternity with Lance.” Lance initially misinterprets this as a good thing before realizing that it’s an insult. This is supposed to be a team? These are supposed to be people who are friends? This episode is so messed up.

Pidge votes for Hunk, saying, “Hunk gets along with everybody. If anyone’s going to go out into the universe and bring people together, it’s Hunk.”

Bob is impressed that no one voted for themselves and that everyone got at least one vote. So, they all win. That’s the end of the gameshow.

The Paladins wake up in their Lions in space. So, yup, there’s no resolution to how the previous episode ended with the Lions being “in worse shape than ever.” They’re fine now. Whatever.

The Paladins begin to realize that, since they all experienced the gameshow, that it was real, not a dream, so that’s a giant cliché. Coran pops in at the sound of the name “Bob,” who he says is an “all-powerful, all-knowing interdimensional being who judges the worthiness of great warriors.” Keith replies, “The guy was kind of a jerk though, right?” The other Paladins seem to agree with him.

Then there’s another advertisement for the mermaid planet.

Is Bob supposed to be a reference to Bob Koplar from World Events Productions? If, as Keith says, Bob “was kind of a jerk,” does that mean this episode is all about Tim Hedrick complaining about Koplar and WEP? The executive producers were very public about their complaints that executives wouldn’t just step back and let them make the show however they wanted. As an executive of WEP, Bob Koplar could be one of the executives that JDS and LM referenced in their complaints. Hedrick left Voltron this season, and this episode is the first one where he shares Story Editor credit with Joshua Hamilton. If this episode is Hedrick criticizing Bob Koplar, then (regardless of what kind of person Koplar is) Hedrick is a really petty person. The same way it was seriously unprofessional for the show to have written the EPs’ complaints about having to keep Shiro into Coran’s dialog in 4x04 “The Voltron Show,” if “The Feud!” is Hedrick ranting about Koplar as he’s leaves the show, then that is also seriously unprofessional.

If there is some other possible explanation for what in the world this episode is supposed to be, I don’t know.

As much as other episodes of this show infuriate me, “The Feud!” is the absolute worst episode of Voltron Legendary Defender.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld season 7 #vld 7x04 #commentary

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atopearth · 5 years ago

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Shall We Date? Love Tangle Part 14 - Maxim Morozoff and Alexey Morozoff Routes

Well, Alexey sure doesn’t cut to the chase, he legit just fell for her and wanted to go on a date with her already lol. Love at first sight, huh? He’s very honest about it lol. Tbh, I never really thought about the idea of Maxim and Alexey being twins until I did the mini game to get points to pass the checkpoints and their portraits look pretty much exactly the same lol. They both have jobs related to space with Maxim being a scientist of sorts in the aerospace division and Alexey being an astronaut so that sounds pretty cool!

Hmmmm… I’m kinda disappointed that Maxim is going to be working with her because he’s well versed in other sciences besides aerospace so he’s working on the living conditions of the leopards, I don’t want another work romance thing…there’s already Moses, Timo and Paul, and even Ivy (since her route was just her helping out the heroine instead), I enjoyed the variations in jobs and how they tie in with their personality and the plot zzzz. Well, Alexey is a persistent one lol, I guess there’s no harm in letting him show her around the city though lol. Wow, he’s so dedicated to even get Maxim to sub in for him on the date since he was running a high fever and didn’t want to cancel. I’m also surprised that Maxim went along with it haha. It’s nice to know how serious Alexey is though, he ended up being able to make it to the date haha. Gotta say though, Alexey is way too affectionate and touchy feely especially when they barely know each other.

I do admire Maxim’s dedication that he’d forget about sleep and eating for work though, I hope to love my work as much. The new character Angelo is an architect!~ he looks kinda cute and he designed Lilac Court! Maxim was the one that originally wanted to become an astronaut but ended up becoming a researcher on the ground? Gotta admit with the heroine that imagining Maxim as an astronaut feels weird haha. What Alexey said was really interesting! The idea that Alexey chose to go to space (as an astronaut) so he can always see the Earth and how Maxim ended up choosing to stay on the ground as a researcher to always see the stars. I never thought about it like that. I knew something would happen with Alexey considering the constant mentioning of survival training and going into space etc, but I didn’t expect him to go missing! Although it’s a bad situation with Alexey missing, I do like how much more emotion we get to see from Maxim for feeling so distressed over it. It was also really nice to see the heroine’s perspective and encourage him to go to work and keep calm and logical to see if there’s any news on Alexey at the workplace instead of wallowing in grief when nothing bad has been confirmed yet.

I find it really cute the heroine remembers that jigsaw puzzles could help Maxim get his mind off things naturally. Good to see that they’ve found Alexey and he seems to be fine, I wonder how this is gonna work out with how affectionate Alexey seems to be towards the heroine though, how is Maxim gonna break it to him later on that he likes the heroine too? So bold of the heroine to confess to Maxim like that! Too bad he won’t accept her considering Alexey’s feelings, especially after discovering that the heroine has actually met Alexey before and that’s probably why he’s so obsessed with her? Not surprised that Alexey knew how Maxim felt and told them to just get together lol. Why should the heroine be angry at Maxim for hiding that they’re trying to test a vaccine in zero gravity for that virus that was spreading near where Alexey disappeared before? This is a big thing, why would they just reveal it to her like that lol. It’s not even related to her or her job. And they get together happily with Alexey’s blessing! Lol, honestly, I really like Maxim’s character, but as with the recent routes, the story has been very lacklustre, there’s no depth to it. The only part I liked was when she stayed beside him and supported him with the right words when Alexey disappeared, otherwise the rest of the route had a half baked story that didn’t aim to accomplish anything and it proved not as any proper obstacle for the two to overcome, so yeah it was boring. I’m not even sure if his job even had a proper part in it b/c everything was so surface level. Hopefully Alexey’s route shows more effort in the story.

Well, everything is basically the same, just that Alexey gets found much faster haha, I guess it is his route so it won’t do without him lol. It’s cute that they went on a date going on the Ferris wheel and stuff to have some fun together. I can see why Alexey seems so obsessed with her, she helped him out and comforted him with a kind gesture during his darkest time when he felt defeated from the astronaut training etc, so it’s understandable why he feels so grateful and fond of her. I like how they shared their views on their dreams and how she said she needed to just keep treading on to fulfill her dreams, since she thinks that once she gives up once, she won’t be able to continue so she tries her best to keep going no matter what, but she also realises that breaks are important, and I guess that’s something that clicked for Alexey, he’s been way too strained about achieving his dream that he’s forgotten that relaxing is important too. It’s a pretty cliche interaction but I really liked it, I think it really helped to develop the basis to their relationship and how much she has been supporting him through those words she said even though it was a while ago. He’s so brave to have confessed right then and there on their first meeting though! Lol! Too bad the heroine didn’t take it seriously and completely forgot about him in the present hahaha. But yeah, it’s hard to not feel fond of someone that would remember you for so long and appreciate you haha.

Omg, saving the earth?!?? When did this game become something like that?? Hahaha, anyway, so the the space station is falling to the earth, that sounds very interesting I guess lol! Ooh so Alexey has been doing all this training for a mission and it was actually to go destroy that part that’s falling from the space station so that it would be small enough to disintegrate as it falls back to Earth or something. Kinda crazy of a situation that I never expected from this game lol but I guess it’s quite a different take from the usual astronaut explorations haha. I have to say, Alexey has become really cute with the way he handles everything in such an optimistic manner, he’s really respectable! I admire how he can be sincere and yet so positive in such a dire situation, especially when there was an error and he had to manually disengage a lock. Scary, but I guess with the heroine there to support him and believe that he truly is a hero, he’ll definitely try his best to come back alive😊 Alexey really is the hero he makes himself to be (even though it is pretty cliche) and then he gets some free time to properly spend it with the heroine😆

Overall, Alexey’s route was definitely the better one in terms of romance and story just because it felt like there was some effort put into it lol. It felt quite understandable how they came together and fell for each other whereas for Maxim, it just didn’t feel as natural lol. It’s pretty saddening since I do like Maxim’s personality much more lol.

#shall we date love tangle

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thecorteztwins · 5 years ago

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🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊!!!!! Scream about them!!

WOW THAT’S A LOT I’ll talk about two, Ashti and AverySo I have a ton of old OCs but I’d rather talk about the new ones I started making this year after like 4-5 years of not making them anymore.

ASHTI YILMAZHer family are Yazidi Kurds living in Germany, grandparents originally are from TurkeyTender, wistful, melancholy, manipulative, explosive. Far more emotional than logical, and quick to let her bleeding heart and overpowering passion take her reins, whether in sympathy or anger. Easy to hurt, tease, and rile. Prone to sulking, pouting, and brooding, but can shout too when pushed far enough. Has strong feelings, but these make it hard for her to take a strong stance on complicated matters, since her emotions get pulled both ways. Always feels a little out of place. Beats herself up over little things. Fancies herself the mom friend but actually needs a mom friend. Moody, immature, unconditionally supportive. Will say awful things she doesn’t mean in anger and prone to emotional blackmail when upset. Fatalistic, often just accepts that powers that be must have a plan, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Warm but wary; always friendly to new people externally, but inside she's on the lookout for any sign they dislike her or are making fun of her, which sometimes leads her to read too much into innocent remarks or innocuous expressions. Feels more experienced than people from more privileged lives and groups, but also like they’re smarter and more accomplished. Ashti definitely has very normative ideas about gender. Nothing exceptional, just common generalizations like women are more emotional, little boys like the physical play, men can be total brutes whereas women attack with cattiness, etc. She’s also prone to romantization of bad relationships, like that jealousy means passion, control means protection, and sticking together through all your fights proves how strong your love is instead of calling it quits. This not only means she is likely to get into and stay in toxic relationships herself, but give her friends dangerous advice to do the same when they come to her with romantic troubles Unsurprisingly, she has a tendency toward tortured bad boys and getting her heart trod on. She has a complicated relationship with her culture. On the one hand, she's proud of it and defiant against any forces that try to take away or erase it. She wants to learn more about it. On the other hand, she hates that feels she HAS to learn about it, that as a tiny minority it's on her shoulders to keep carrying this legacy or risk letting it die. And she hates that all she seems to learn is about how much other people hate her, about massacres and genocides and camps and gas, no about joy and triumphs and great works of art like everyone else seems to get to have in their background. That stuff is there too, but sometimes it seems like it's just entirely overshadowed by the ongoing history of persecution, and she doesn't WANT that, she doesn't want to be defined by the SUFFERING of her people rather than their accomplishments. And she wonders, if she has to learn so much of her own culture from books, since so much of it was torn from her family long before her parents were even born and thus they couldn't teach it to her, is it really even hers? Like, really? If she has to learn it in the same way that a non-Kurd would, is she really culturally Kurdish, or just genetically? Where's the line? And can she really count HERSELF as persecuted? Her PEOPLE have suffered terribly, but if she's never been the victim of anything truly bad or overt, does she have the right to speak on that suffering and claim it by extension? One of her biggest flaws is she doesn't know her flaws. She thinks her flaws are being insecure, emotional, and loving too much. And these aren't untrue. But she's missing a whole lot of the less flattering, less endearing aspects of her personality.Dislikes when people think they (or someone else) is a good person just because they are loyal and kind to their friends, family, teammates, etc. Even genocidal dictators usually treat their own well; what really shows who you are is how you treat those who are different from you, those who disagree with you, those that you don’t know, those that you will lose nothing by mistreating?Also dislikes: Shitty apologies, they send her into an instant screaming rage * Line cutters * When people look down at fast food workers, custodians, etc., and clearly have no courtesy or respect for them (ex: carelessly leaving huge messes) * Beautiful sand sculptures because they get destroyed so fast, it actually upsets her that something that took so much talent and care is going to be so transient * Gorillas, they're scary and she's no Fay Wray * Big trucks, they make her nervousLikes: wild honeysuckle, strong tea, sweet coffee, sleepy gray cats, old patchwork quilts with a story, dark storms at sea, bright sunshine after heavy rain, rose and lavender flavored things, mountains (but not climbing them), he sight of old abandoned cottage houses overgrown with grass and vines. She’s always on the side of the common masses against those in power, but it’d be a lie to say she didn’t watch Sofia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette “ on wistful repeat or secretly fantasize about somehow being the lost Princess Anastasia Romanov. She also loves "Beauty & the Beast" stories like "Labyrinth" and "Phantom of the Opera" about powerful and kinda evil men obsessed with beautiful naive young ingenues. Loves photos of skeletons that are embracing in their final moments, not as in props but real remains of people were found holding each other as they died, such as The Lovers of Valdaro Would love to be a model or a beauty blogger, glamorous jobs with no imagined effort where people would love her and see her as pretty. As it is she has a job as a receptionist at a ritzy spa called Tranquility.She can pop her wrists out of place, and paints/dyes silk scarves as a hobby.There’s a history of mental illness in her mother’s family, it’s never been officially diagnosed, they just say they’re “emotional” and “passionate” but actually it’s probably something more along the lines of bipolar or borderline, and Ashti isn’t affected but her mother was to a degree and her sister to an even greater one and it caused a huge rift in the family that the dynamic has never really recovered from. AVERY RUE UNDERWOODWhite American trans girl, goth/grunge, pretty much constantly dresses in the same uniform of a black slip dress with a black hoodie or flannel, or some variation on this. She has tattoos of the alchemical symbols for sulfur, salt, arsenic, and mercury, chosen for their metaphorical meanings rather than scientific. Salt, mercury, and sulfur are in her back, down the length of her spine. Arsenic is above her groin. Neutral and detached, but not disinterested or apathetic, Avery approaches most everything from a position of laidback philosophical ease. When things are too tough that it gets through even her robotic shell, she disengages externally and seems ever more the automaton, while actually dwelling on the matter for days or more internally. She can recite "Cassilda's Song" by heart, and talk for hours about the racism and insanity of Lovecraft, and how both these things are misunderstood and misconstrued equally by his devotees and detractors alike. Her icon is Mommy Fortuna from The Last Unicorn, who chose her death and kept it close to her, caged and hers til the end when it tore her to pieces--welcomed by her with open arms, still hers, hers forever.Collects antique silver plated hair brushes. She thinks a lot about how everyone has a life and internal thoughts and we just don’t know we can never really know another person. She likes to go to lonely personal blogs and Twitter accounts and the like and just follow. She rarely “likes” and even more rarely comments, she just wants to watch this little window into a random life that doesn’t have an audience to be performing for like the big accounts. Maybe it’s creepy and voyeuristic but she feels such a strange tenderness for these screen names that she never speaks too. They’re human souls, every one of them. And maybe there’s no God to hear them, but she does. Studies existentialist, nihilist, and absurdist philosophy. She learns less towards the middle, more towards the other two. Morbid and macabre she might be, but she's an idealist at her core. Some of her other interests include obscure mental disorders (Cotatd’s delusion, Capgras syndrome) , photos of the decomposition process, and the historical use of plants as both cures and poisons. She feels kinship with carrion-eaters like buzzards and hyenas, society sees them as disgusting and evil but they play an integral part in the ecosystem She believes that existence precedes essence. So she doesn't believe she was born with a female soul or anything like that. She just doesn't believe she was born with a male one either. She ended up with a female one, and she's going to facilitate that further, is what she believes. But she also doesn't think of her transition as becoming her real self, so much as taking away everything that wasn’t “her” so that only her real self is there. Like how Michaelangelo said he didn’t make David from the marble, David was already there, he just took away everything that wasn’t David. These two views contradict each other, but she works with it. She's got room for contradictions.She’s bisexual, but when she’s with women, she feels like a pervert or predator next to a “real” girl. When she’s with men, she feels like they’re the perverts, and she prefers that. She prefers feeling degraded to feeling predatory. Basically sex is going to suck for her one way or another due to her dysphoria and she’d rather it suck in the way that doesn’t make her feel like the bad guy.Her family is best described as "neutral" in terms of acceptance. They're not at all hateful, and barely questioned her decision, but they're not involved closely enough with her to be really called "supportive" at all. Everyone in her clan, including herself, are too wrapped up in their own lives to really care one way or the other about each other's, and she's good with that. She prefers it. She'd rather not be interviewed, even from people trying to be helpful; this is deeply personal to her and she finds it invasive. She is pretty good at “being the bigger person “ and not escalating things in a conflict, if only because she just doesn’t give enough of a shit to. She tolerates getting yelled at, even undeservedly, really well. She’d be brilliant in retail, she can cope with Karens all day long and not snap or get worn down. Apathy is a hell of a shield.She doesn’t hold on to people, this is good and bad. On the one hand, it means she escapes jealousy and co-dependency and needing anybody. On the other hand, some people feel it makes her disloyal or uncaring. But she's an island, and she accepts the transience of life.She doesn’t seek outside validation or feel the need to be seen as right even when she knows she is. This has allowed her to avoid a lot of arguments and stress.She might not fear violence from a philosophical viewpoint, but she sure does in her natural animal instincts. This makes her edgy around certain demographics. Straight men, religious people, right-wingers, those sorts of groups. You could argue that she's unfairly stereotyping them, much as others have unfairly stereotyped her and people like her. Sure, fair enough, but she'd still rather avoid getting her head bashed in as much as she can. It's not that everyone in these groups is a violent bigot, it's just if there's going to be a violent bigot, they're statistically more likely to be in these groups. Like when was the last time you heard of a transgender woman being murdered by a liberal lesbian atheist, right? So yeah, she's stereotyping. But she'd rather be alive and a "reverse bigot" than fair-minded and dead. She's not THAT much of nihilist.Avery’s self esteem is best defined as contrarian, taking pride in herself more based on what she’s not rather than what she is, and playing Devil’s Advocate to her own ego. She’s the first to admit that not being something bad is not the same as being something good, and in fact tends to disdain those who do the same as she does and praise themselves simply for not being fascists or bigots or abusers, but it seems like the best she can successfully argue to herself.She's completely non-judgemental of things a lot of people would find weird or creepy. Like, you write human/dinosaur a/b/o erotica? Cool, she'll edit it if you want. As long as you aren't hurting anyone, go for it LIKES:* Urban legends, occultism, cryptids, preserved oddities, the unknown* Deep seas, the night sky, vast storms, huge caves, eternal forests* The crowded isolation of the city at night* Abandoned buildings* The sigh and feel of old velvet and raw silk* Deep sea creatures and weird starfish and giant squids * Hozier, The Sisters of Mercy, Cocteau Twins, Black Tape For A Blue Girl, lo-fi, dreampop, shoegaze, every Lumineers song that has a girl's name as the title, and obscure local alternative bands that the art college radio stations only play late at night* Djarum Black clove cigarettes* Symbolist paintings (especially "Salome" and "Sisyphus" and "The Sin" by Franz Stuck)* Angela Carter, Caitlin R. Kiernan, T.K. Kingfisher, and Nabokov's lesser-known novels like Pnin and Pale FireDISLIKES* Pettiness* The smell of smoking meat, it makes her nauseous, and she's never been able to stomach a steak* Trimmed lawns and pruned gardens* The hypocritical pretentiousness so commonly found in any “alternative “ scene* So-called "horror movies" that are really just gross-out torture porn* Creepypastas that over-explain or don't know when to end* People who pride themselves on "sticking to their guns no matter what" as that seems to her to just be another way of saying they never listen to other opinions or new information because they're so sure in their own rightness* People who forget that everyone else has as much depth and life as themselves, you’re not the protagonist and these aren’t NPCs in a game* Avery is an Aquarius and even though she doesn’t believe in astrology, she still likes reading about it, and it bugs her that her sign is classed as “positive “ and “masculine"* Misuse of the term "social construct"WEAKNESSES* Gives up easily; her transition is really the only difficult thing she's ever stuck with* Navel gazing, over-thinking, gets lost in her own head* Can't make a hard decision quickly* Insomniac* Loses track of time easily* Messy slob, her apartment is DISGUSTING, don't ever be roomies with this girl* She doesn't own a car, but she can drive. She just can't park. She's terrible at parking. She goes in crooked, she goes over the line, she has to pull out and go in again a million times to get it right. STRENGTHS* Comfort with solitude, doesn't get lonely* Equally at ease with both existentialism and nihilism* A veritable whiz with subway routes and schedules* Doesn't sweat the small stuff* Hopeful at her core

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whattoreadinsteadofdrinking · 6 years ago

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birthday party/week recap aka this post is long af

This week was really intense for a lot of reasons, and despite having slept for 12 hours last night I woke up tired and cranky and full of the bad kind of regret feelings that usually I associate with drinking, only now I am associating them with other things, like being honest and vulnerable, so I’m gonna write it all out. Heads up that this will be long, boring, and you probably don’t want or need to read all of this since it’s just a bunch of rambling and my attempt to get my thoughts straight so I can have a more balanced day.

I knew this week was coming up and I knew it would be a long one. On Thursday, I was scheduled to be a guest speaker at a fundraising banquet for a program that gets scholarships for low income students so they can leave our public school system (which in my area, is basically a systematic way to keep poor kids poor) and into private schools where they have a great chance of success. I was chosen to speak because I used to work for the public schools here, and while I believe wholeheartedly in public schooling, it only works if the wealthy actually pay their goddamn taxes instead of opting out of it. Our schools in the public sector here are so bad that I had 8th grade students who could not read. I mean really could not read at all. I could write a lot about that but I won’t.

I’ve been practicing my speech but the thing is that it’s a topic I’m really passionate about and it makes me emotional. As I’ve written about on here before, I began really drinking when I began teaching, so in the past, the way I dealt with the emotions this brought up was to have a beer (read: 5 beers). Talking about my experience in the public school system over and over, to myself, and then preparing to do it in front of a hundred people, was A Whole Lot. And then on Thursday when it was time to do it, I almost cried at the end when I was sharing about the progress one of my kiddos has made in my current (private) school. It was a good speech and was received well, and I don’t feel bad about getting that “oohhhh she’s close to tears” voice in front of people because let’s be honest people CRY SOMETIMES, but my boss made a weird comment about it at work the next day and now I am paranoid that I sounded like an ass who couldn’t get it together. Her comment singlehandedly took what felt like a victory and turned it into something I am a little embarrassed by. I am aware that I am the one letting her comment have that much weight but I can’t seem to un-feel it. I can think through it and realize it doesn’t matter and her opinion doesn’t matter but I can’t un-feel how unhappy it made me to hear that, if that makes sense.

The theme of “being vulnerable in front of others” from that night was just a huge carry-over from Wednesday, when I shared some really upsetting and frank truths about my journey in group. It was hard but needed. I don’t regret it, and everyone else was sharing, and honestly it felt like a huge weight off my shoulders to be that honest with people about where I’m at, but like. Telling people you’re an addict is hard. And you can’t take it back. They will never un-know it now. They will know that about me forever. I feel good about having said what I said and simultaneously I feel like Toby from the Office during that scene when he accidentally touches Pam’s leg, realizes he’s exposed himself in a humiliating way, and announces that he’s moving to Costa Rica. Then runs and jumps the fence of the office park and runs away into the night. I want to jump the fence and run into the night and move to Costa Rica. That’s how being vulnerable with others makes me feel.

So Wednesday, vulnerable at group, Thursday, vulnerable in a speech in front of a hundred people (many of whom are my coworkers, friends, and superiors at work), and yesterday was my birthday. I planned a birthday that I wanted rather than the one I thought I should have-- i.e, I didn’t invite some people from my friend group who upset me or who I feel do not respect my boundaries. I also invited people from a bunch of different areas of my life, which, while not a big deal in itself, felt a little like taking the compartments out of my social scene because many of them have not met each other before. I was feeling good about it until my one friend asked when J was coming and if I’d had a text from him asking about where we were. I replied that J hadn’t texted me. He kept asking questions til I said, “well, I didn’t invite him. It’s nothing personal, we just aren’t that close.” My friend looked really taken aback because this guy is a close part of our mutual friend group. What he doesn’t know is that J is a creep who continues to infringe on my boundaries by asking me personal and inappropriate questions, sharing things with me that I do not wish to know, and not taking “no” for an answer when he asks me on a date (I wrote a REALLY long post about this situation a while ago. It continues to be sucky and terrible.) Our other friend, who is basically the most smiley human being on this planet, began frowning at me, so I clarified by saying that when you have a lot of friends, the downside is that you have to choose who to invite to your birthday party out of a big group and so I only invited people I felt closest to.

I want to just tell my friends that this guy is a creep but they are men, and no offense to them, but I already know that they are the kind of dudes who are not going to understand why having to repeat “no” to a guy over and over can be triggering. And I don’t owe them an explanation for that or for any reason why a man may be unsettling to me. I am not Gandalf, I do not need to be their wise guide through the lands of “This is What Misogyny Is And How It Complicates Women’s Lives” Middle Earth.

Anyway they gave me some weird looks and now I am nervous because they told me they told this dude about the party. So I’m waiting for him to confront me on that. Yay.

Then I was dancing with my friend and she spun me around and I accidentally lost my footing and fell fully backwards onto the guy behind me. It hurt my back. Everyone saw. It was embarrassing. Dancing has been a way for me to practice being more in my body and vulnerable, a thing I chose to do as I started this sobriety thing, both to take up time and connect with others. Falling over while dancing, in front of literally all my closest friends, felt like a metaphor for this entire week. Because it turns out that being vulnerable sometimes feels awesome and works out great, and sometimes ends up with you looking like an idiot in front of people who matter to you, and the hard thing about being vulnerable is that you have to accept both outcomes. You have to be ready to fall on your ass, in public, on your birthday. You can’t just have the sunshine-y smiley fun times, and have those mean anything, without risking looking like a fool.

I used to cover up the times I felt like a fool by drinking. Or, I would drink to feel connected to others and not lonely and disengaged enough that I didn’t feel the need to share who I was, and avoid ever feeling foolish at all. Now it’s Saturday, I slept for 12 hours, I am fed and hydrated and ready for the day, and my brain is just running in cirlces inside my head shouting “YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT! EVERYONE THINKS YOU’RE AN IDIOT! GOOD LUCK FACING PEOPLE NEXT WEEK! JUMP THE FENCE AND MOVE TO COSTA RICA! ABORT SOBRIETY, ABORT FRIENDSHIPS, DON’T GO DANCE CLASS TOMORROW, STAY QUIET ABOUT THAT RUDE GUY AND APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE TIL THEY REALLY CAN’T STAND YOU! WOOOOOO!”

But. but. I am gonna quiet my brain down. I am gonna cook stir fry and listen to a Beatles album. I am gonna post this long-ass post, and truly may God bless you if you’ve read this far because for heaven’s sake I can’t imagine how bored you are, and let all the feelings go. I am gonna call my sister and go for a long walk. I am gonna continue to see my friends and not apologize for anything I’ve done this week because you know what? I DO NOT NEED TO BE SORRY FOR BEING A HUMAN BEING. I don’t need to be sorry for sharing my story of teaching, and having an emotional reaction to what is a huge horrifying injustice that keeps poor people of color from having the same chances in life as white suburban kids. I don’t need to apologize for sharing my story in a group that is specifically about sharing our stories. I don’t need to apologize for keeping space between me and people who refuse to respect boundaries. I don’t need to apologize for falling down while dancing (except to the dude I landed on, lol.) I don’t need to live life being sorry for being me. I may FEEL sorry and like I owe people a debt for being in their life or taking up their time or whatever, but I know that that feeling isn’t based on truth. and a part of getting that truth to feel real is, letting myself be human, sober, and move on.

xoxo Sarah

#stillsober #birthday #vulnerability #long post #really long post #super long post #can't emphasize enough how long this post it #not sorry #not apologizing #transparency #weekly recap #writing is my substitute for drinking #this is not as satisfying as a beer #but it will be better for me #appreciate my friends and followers

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ashrelfury · 6 years ago

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Arcane Fox

(This is a Demon Accords AU...so, yeah. This is what I have so far. If you think its worth continuing. Let me know. I’ve been needing a bit of motivation lately..my depression is really, REALLY bad...and my current job just isn’t helping because I have to act like I want to be a human being, and not like I was wishing to die in my sleep just so that I wouldn’t have to come into work at all...and yeah...enjoy)

Neil watched from the tree line as the witch-boy who had decimated his grandmother’s forces talked openly with the people who’d come to Fairie with him and fought by his side against the Summer Queen’s supposedly overwhelming army.

His inner struggle was short lived. He’d decided this a long while ago, he knew what he wanted and he was determined to go through with it. He was going to do this. He needed to, there was no longer any choice. Not anymore, not with the battle that had just taken place. If he stayed in Fairie, he’d be used by his grandmother and his cousin, or worse, his father. He needed to go somewhere where their power would be limited, where he would be able to fight back and possibly win. He needed to escape like his mother had tried to do so very long ago.

With one deep breath he broke away from the tree line, walking slowly and quietly towards the group of powerful people still standing on the ruined battlefield of what was supposed to have been a show of his grandmother’s ferocious strength.

It didn’t take him two steps forward before he was under the intense scrutiny of the witch-boy’s entire group, all of them suddenly falling into a fighting stance, braced for an attack that wouldn’t come. Neil threw his hands up and halted.

Tense seconds passed between the group and Neil. It broke the moment one of the female vampires relaxed, taking a step forward to lay an elegant hand on the shoulder of the lithe black-haired blue-eyed porcelain beauty. They shared a few words, but Neil couldn’t hear it and he didn’t bother to try. He just stood there, waiting.

Slowly, they all began to disengage, their stances going back to the alert relaxation of veteran warriors. The witch-boy waved a hand, and Neil began walking again.

He paused a good ten feet away, within hearing range but with enough distance to escape should any of the vampires, werewolf, witch, and angels lunge first.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The witch-boy called out, speaking for the group in a hard voice, expression tense. “If you’ve come to fight, know that we won’t hold back. We don’t want to, but we will kill you if you attack us.”

Neil grit his teeth, his own fear a very familiar taste on his tongue.

Before he answered, he took the measure of each one of the witch-boy’s team.

A short blonde vampire stood slightly in front of the black-haired one, arms crossed under her chest and hip cocked, a smirk on her face as she eyed Neil up and down. To her other side was the vampire who’d first relaxed, another blonde but clearly softer than the shorty beside her. She had a slight smile on her face, a curious tilt to her head. The dark-haired one behind them was truly beautiful, more so than many of the Fae Neil had ever known. Her icy blue eyes almost glowing as she assessed Neil back.

Standing beside her was the angel man. Short dark hair and vivid glowing violet eyes set the man apart from the rest of the group. Understated power hung around the man, even as his shoulders slouched and he seemed more interested than threatened. The Only male vampire stood slightly beside the dark-haired female. Bigger than the others and glaring, there was an aura of unspoken threat to the vampire that Neil didn’t take lightly.

The large werebear… wolf? The hybrid animal Neil had seen taking down all of his grandmother’s goblins was baring his teeth and Neil was determined not to even glance at the giant predator. Skipping the animal though, brought his attention to the witch-boy.

The Middle King, if what Neil has been hearing was to be believed. If there was anyone who can keep Zinnia back, it would be the witch-boy, Declan O’Carroll. He was Neil’s only hope at this point.

Movement from beside the witch-boy caught Neil’s attention, his own icy blues flicking to the growling blonde wolf-girl being held back by the witch-boy’s hand laid softly against her bicep.

He turned back to the witch-boy. He needed to focus now. Declan O’Carroll was the only being in Fairie who could open a portal and would be willing to endure his grandmother’s wrath for stealing her most powerful weapon away. He needed to convince this boy to bring him back to the mortal realm with them.

“I don’t want to fight.” Neil tried after the long, assessing silence. Keen purple eyes seemed to rake over Neil’s shoulder, where the bag that had once belonged to his mother now hung. It held all of Neil’s belongings, and now, the angel man’s attention. Before the man could open his mouth to ask, Neil plowed forward. “My name is Nathaniel Wesninski. I am the grandson of the Summer Queen.”

Boom.

Like a sudden explosion, the heavy tension was back, pressing down on Neil even as he struggled to open his mouth and explain further. He didn’t get the chance.

“Did you grandmother send you then? Are you her… how you say, secret weapon?” The big male vampire spoke up words heavy with an accent Neil recognized, Russian. Long daggers suddenly in his hands. Neil wasn’t quite sure where the weapons had come from, but it didn’t matter, he needed to explain and he needed to do it fast.

“Arkady, leave the boy alone. Let him speak.” Another heavily accented voice cut in, but this one from the black-haired vampire woman standing beside the angel man.

“What are you here for, Nathaniel?” the witch-boy took the lead again, sending the big vampire a steady look before he focused back on Neil.

It was a struggle not to flinch at his own name being spoken out loud, but he’d obviously reacted in some way because the vampires and the angel man all stilled. Unnaturally so. It set all of Neil’s instincts on edge, the unnatural stillness reminding him of his cousin and his dad right before they hurt him. He swallowed it down. He’d had more than enough practice swallowing down fear.

“I want to get out. I want to leave Fairie.” Neil admitted, voice quiet.

“No fucking way!” The blonde werewolf girl growled, taking a menacing step towards Neil, only to be stopped by the witch-boy who squeezed the solid steel-like arm still under his hand.

Declan’s gaze was contemplative as he took Neil’s measure. Another bout of long uncomfortable silence overtook them all as the group shared looks Neil couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Why?” Declan finally asked, though not suspiciously. “You’re Zinnia’s grandson, right? Why would you want to leave Fairie? Why would you need us to leave Fairie in the first place?”

The lack of a straight-out rejection made Neil feel the first tendrils of hope he’d ever had in years. Since the day the only person who had ever actually loved him died. With that hope, came enough courage to get him through an explanation. Hopefully.

“My mother was a witch.” Neil admitted, only for all of them to instantly stiffen again. Fuck, he needed to move this along before he found himself on the wrong end of someone’s dagger, or claw… or teeth. “My father wanted a powerful son so that he could overthrow his mother and finally take the throne for himself. He failed. My grandmother has been holding me captive ever since learning about me. She wants me to be her secret weapon against her sister. She waned me to be her soldier, her powerful slave. I don’t want to be her anything. I want to get out of here, get away from her and everything in this damn plane. I want to have friends, to be free. I want to…” He paused, clamping down on his emotions as the air around them began to blow hard and wild. He looked away from the group, dragging his control back around him like a cape. “I want to be more than anyone’s weapon.”

Neil didn’t want to look up. He kept his gaze down at the wet muddy ground and let the end of his statement hang around them, unavoidable.

It hung there for so long, Neil was afraid the answer would be a resounding ‘no’. He figured they would either kill him now, or leave him here for his grandmother to find and punish. She’d found many ways to punish him over the years and his father wasn’t very far behind her. Being half-witch and half-elven made him powerful beyond even his grandmother, it made him useful, but it also made him exceedingly vulnerable. Especially when he’d been younger. With no training, he’d been left floundering and uncontrollable, exactly as his grandmother wanted. She would never allow him to learn until she was sure that she had him completely under her control. The fact that his dual natures seemed to fight each other magically and painfully within him, just meant that she wouldn’t have to lift a finger if she didn’t want to. Neil would come to heel when the pain became too much, when the lack of control tore at his mind, his essence.

What she didn’t understand was that Neil would rather die than bow.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden voice. A sudden voice far closer than it should have been.

His eyes snapped up and he found himself nose-to-nose with one of the vampire women. The kind one with blonde hair and a beautiful smile.

“You are honest, child.” The vampire said, her Russian accent almost softer than the tall male or the dark-haired goddess. “You do not want to fight, do not want to have to kill. You want freedom and the ability to choose your own fate, to control your own powers. You want to know what you can do. What your mother could do.” With that, he moved away from him and turned to her group. “Well then, what do you all say?” She looked back into Neil’s eyes, their gazes locked.

Something ethereal seemed to probe into his mind and Neil wanted to turn away from this vampire girl, but he couldn’t. He was trapped in her stare and she was poking into his mind, he knew it but he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m cool with it.”

The witch-boy’s voice snapped Neil out of the trance and he looked over to see a sympathetic look on the witch-boy’s face, a small smile pulling his lips as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m cool with it. I’m sure he’ll make things interesting.”

“Please. Like any of us really need more ‘interesting’ in our lives right now.” The shortest of the vampire women snarked, the same smirk still on her face. “Anymore ‘interesting’ and we’ll all be having full out battles every single day.”

“Oh, come on! I totally won the one today!” Declan called back, trying for indignant, but struggling to suppress the smile rising on his face.

“You didn’t win shit, Sabrina the freakish witch. We won the battle.” The vampire snipped.

“Enough you two. We still have this to decide.” The black-haired goddess gestured to Neil, who’d been watching the byplay with interest and a bit of envy. Easy friendship. Neil had never even seen such a thing before. He wanted it.

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust anything from Fairie, but I doubt a short-stack like him will be able to do much damage before I can tear his throat out.” The blonde wolf-girl beside Declan eyed him unhappily, but she’d given her vote. It was as close to consent as Neil was going to get.

Fuck it, he’d take it.

The angel man was next, everyone looked to him for his verdict. He eyed Neil intensely though, those odd violet eyes glowing under whatever thoughts the big man was having. Neil didn’t know why, but it felt like the angel man’s judgement would be the deciding factor in the end. He held his breath as he waited.

The angel man finally turned away to looked down at the pale blue-eyed goddess. “He doesn’t look like he wants to cause trouble. I think he really just needs a place to escape to and someone willing to take him. We’ll likely have some trouble with the summer Court if we do take him though, but judging by what happened here tonight, they won’t be able to retaliate for a few years.”

“That’s why I came here now.” Neil cut in, not really able to stop his mouth before it got away from him. Well, the ball was rolling now, why stop there. “You all knocked my grandmother down so far, she’ll be struggling for the next decade. If I stay… if I stay, I will have to fight whether I’m ready for it or not. I don’t want to die for her, I don’t want to do anything for her or my father ever again.”

That got all of their attention.

“Do you know any other way that Zinnia could retaliate?” The angel man asked critically.

Neil frowned, thinking about it.

“She has connections. I don’t know much, no one talks to me, but I hear things. With my grandmother so desperate, she’ll turn to more powerful beings.” Neil admitted. He was sure of it, he just didn’t have any more details to give. He didn’t want that to be the deciding factor here. If he had to return to the small training room he’d spent most of his whole life trapped inside, he’d end up doing something much more tragic by day’s end. To see all of the beauty of the land of his birth meant nothing now. Escape was the only thing he wanted. Escape was everything.

“What do you mean by powerful beings? Demons? Vorsook?” The witch-boy cut into Neil’s thoughts, asking the questions Neil didn’t have the answers to. He grimaced.

“I don’t know. When the Vorsook aliens came to Fairie, my father had only just managed to capture my mother. No one else really knows much about them, grandmother held her secrets close and I doubt her sister was any better. I would be surprised to discover any common elven with such knowledge.” He spared a look to the tall, buff violet-eyed angel man. “But she knows what you are. A Fallen Angel come to the world. If I know her, she would use your enemy against you, and she would make it personal. My best guess is a demon. Something powerful, ancient.”

The group shared looks before all of them turned to the angel man. The man only nodded, worry and resignation on his face.

Silence fell around them, each one of the witch-boy’s group lost in their own thoughts. Neil himself was looking around the battle area, wondering if anyone of his kin would have remained to watch the enemy. To was Neil. The icy fear of going back pushed him into speaking up.

“Will you take me?”

It snapped everyone out of their thoughts, but it was the witch-boy who stepped up first.

Up close, he was tall. Almost a full 8 inches taller than Neil’s own 5’3. He smiled amicable bowed a bit at the waist in greeting. When Neil bowed back, he spoke.

“We’ll take you, Nathaniel.”

Neil tried not to flinch at hearing his own name, but it was clear he failed when everyone looked at him oddly. His smile was tight when he replied. “Neil. Would you mind calling me Neil? That name… I was named after my father, and I…” He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.

“Of course. It’s nice to meet you, Neil. My name’s Declan. The beautiful blonde bombshell right here is Stacia.” The witch-boy, Declan, gestured to the werewolf girl who’d come up behind him, not even looking back to see her, as if he’d known he was there or could sense her. Neil hadn’t been aware of her presence, but he didn’t jump, only nodded to her as she bared her teeth in return.

“That’s Chris, Tania, Lydia, and Arkady. The big werebear/wolf is called Awasos. And she’s Nika.” Declan pointed out each of them as he named them. Neil took in all of them again, putting a name to each as he went until he got to the vampire who had been the first to approach him. Nika. Her eyes were sympathetic and gentle. Neil wasn’t sure why, but the expression made him stiffen – she looked like she knew more about him than he ever wanted anyone to know, and the mere thought of that was unnerving.

“Come then, Neil. Welcome to Team Demidova. I think you’ll fit right in.” Nika smiled turning to her companions as everyone gathered around Declan. The feel of his own relief nearly brought him to his knees, but so did his apprehension. This was a strange group of people he’d put his faith in, but if not for them, he would be as good as dead.

This would be a better fate.

Right?

*One Year Later*

Saturday evening found Neil Josten sitting in a small auditorium in a large newly built facility just outside the Palmetto State University campus. The smell of pleather and cleaning solutions permeated the air around him as Neil sat three rows from the back, ice blue eyes looking around at every other student in the auditorium with him.

“Come on, Neil. Calm down a bit. No one here is out to get you.” Matt’s voice was low, a consolation for all of the sensitive ears in the room, but his tone was amused. Neil scowled at him.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here in the first place.” He snapped back, rolling his eyes.

It was move-in day of whatever ‘this’ was, and Neil knew he was being unreasonably snippy with his friend. When he’d tried to argue with Tania though, she’d thrown back, “You are new to the mortal world, Neil. You need to learn to interact with people your own age. You will still come back to the tower whenever you want, but I want you to go to college and gain some life experience. Declan went to college.”

And that had been the argument that won him over.

Declan, despite being only two years older than Neil, was probably the person Neil looked up to the most since he’d been brought to the mortal plane. From being the most powerful witch currently alive despite the fact that he was a male, to taking part in the creation of the sentient AI called Omega, Declan accomplished so many things in the mortal world. And that wasn’t even taking into account that he was the Middle King of Fairie, something Neil sometimes used as a comfort when the thought of Zinnia coming for him became too overwhelming.

That admiration for Declan had made him give in with an emphatic ‘Fuck, fine.’ Before he really even noticed he’d agreed to Tania’s plans.

So here he was, sitting in an auditorium for their first mandatory meeting with the director for the South Carolina branch of College Arcane, Abigale Winfield.

“If you don’t stop making that face, everyone’s going to assume you’re a were.” Matt whispered softly, a wide smile on his face. It likely wasn’t soft enough because instantly a dark-haired boy about five rows down turned his head and glared up at them, his green eyes flashing once before he turned back to the front of the room.

“Fuck, Matt. Stop making enemies on the first day of college.” Neil snarked back, softer still.

The boy who’d looked back was seated among five other kids, all of them taking up twice as many seats in their lazy sprawl and boisterous voices as they carried around the meeting room.

“You can go sit with them, you know.” Neil amended, flicking a glance at Matt from the corner of his eyes.

“What? And leave my new roomy all by himself? Nah man, I’m good. Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet up with those guys later.” Despite Matt’s words, his eyes were settled securely on one of the females of that group. A slight tan girl with short brown hair, her tank top exposing most of his shoulders and neck catching Matt’s attention like nothing else.

Neil’s Sight clued him in to the fact that all six kids were weres of some sort, their auras a bright blue flecked with green just like Stacia Reynolds. Scattered around the other auditorium seats were the normal blue of human auras, while at the front of a room, clustered into a group much like the weres were a group of four girls and two boys. Witches.

Neil could admit to a bit of surprise, he thought he’d be the only male witch in attendance, but a lot of things had changed since College Arcane’s first year.

What was somewhat surprising was the group of four who sat smack dab in the middle of the room.

Without his sight, all Neil saw was a pair of twins, a tall dark-haired boy with a face tattoo, and a curly haired mixed kid who seemed to be doing the bulk of the talking for the whole group. But when Neil went to check them out, he started a bit at what he found.

The twin’s auras were different. That was something that rarely ever happened, as a rule most twins shared an aura unless they were turned into different beings which seemed to be the case with the blond twins now attending College Arcane.

The one on the edge to the left of the tall dark-haired boy was a vampire. The stark white of his aura much more comforting for Neil than just about anyone else’s due to the sheer amount of time he’d spent with Tania, Lydia, and Nika over the last year.

The other twin though, the one sitting between the mixed loud mouth and the brooding one with the face tattoo was clearly a were, some kind of feline if Neil had to guess. Strange but interesting.

Neil was so intent of his own thoughts that he was startled when the blond vampire turned and met his stare. Mesmerizing hazel eyes more gold than brown gazed back at him with a dead sort of curiosity, before thin pink lips lifted just slightly on one side.

“Dude? Neil, man, are you alright?” Matt’s elbow connected to Neil’s upper arm taking his attention away from the vampire for only a second. When he looked back though, the vampire was no longer paying him any attention.

Fuck that was odd. For a second it felt like he’d been caught in that stare. Not even Tania had ever managed to do that to him, and Tania was the fucking Vampire Princess.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Neil replied as Matt’s concern covered his whole face.

Just as Matt opened his mouth to speak again, the wide double doors to the right of the auditorium’s stage opened up and six people walked in. The first was one Neil recognized well and he groaned internally. Gina Velasquez, the director of the Vermont College Arcane and one of Chris and Tania’s best friends walked in followed by a big burly man with tribal flame tattoos up his forearms and a smaller woman with soft brown hair and a kind smile. Behind them came a smaller plump woman that made Neil stiffen and he recognized her for the witch she was. Walking next to the witch woman was an older gentleman, the only one in the suit and undeniably human. Behind all of them was another man, and this one Neil knew well.

Chris Gordon walked in wearing a t-shirt and jeans, strolling right by everyone without a single person sparing him one glance and Neil knew that Chris was using his demon abilities to go unnoticed as he climbed the stairs to the very back.

As Chris passed Neil’s row, he met Neil’s eye and winked, a slight smile on his handsome face. Neil just scowled back.

“Oh look, it’s starting!” Matt poked Neil’s side, getting his attention back to the front where it belonged.

The half-Fae was remined once again of Gina’s presence and felt like a kid being coddled on his first day of kindergarten. Usually, Gina wouldn’t even be present for this little meet-and-greet, but Neil knew that he was the reason she was here. No matter how much he argued that he could do just fine on his own, Tania had still insisted on sending Gina with him this morning to make sure he settled into the room and met his roommate, Matt, and knew the town well enough to navigate without problems. Gina and Tania’s mothering instincts were both off the charts, more so Tania’s now that the twins, Cora and Wulf, were finally walking and talking.

Neil wondered for a moment if Toni would be alright babysitting the twins on her own from now on. Usually he’d have been there to keep them all company when he wasn’t training with the other members of Team Demidova. He’d spent a lot of time with Declan over the last year too, working on controlling and understanding his own powers. The difference between his witch magic and his Fae magic and how to utilize each one had been a hard lesson.

Before he could sink deeper into his own head, one of the women now standing on the stage in front of all of them finally spoke up.

“Good evening everyone. I am Abigail Winfield, but you can all call me Abby. I am the director of the South Carolina branch of College Arcane and I’m very glad to have all of you here with us this year. For a lot of you, this will be your first time being away from home, so if there is anything we could do to make you feel more comfortable, let us know.” She was smiling wide at the whole room, looking genuinely happy to be there. Beside her, the only older man in the room had his arms crossed and a hard look on his face as he surveyed the room of kids with critical eyes. Gina on Abby’s other side was smiling too, her hands on her hips as she looked on.

“This is the first branch of College Arcane outside of Vermont, but by my side is Director of the Vermont branch, Gina Velasquez, and she’s here on behalf of Oracle.” Abby said, presenting Gina to the room.

Gina took a step forward and greeted everyone with a small good morning before launching into her speech.

“It’s a pleasure to have all of you here today. Knowing that this branch of College Arcane will be run by such capable people puts my mind at ease.” Gina nodded to Abby, “But I want all of you to remember that you are still a part of the College Arcane program. There are pamphlets and rule books in all of your dorms and you will be expected to follow all of those rules. We’ve run a clean program up in Vermont for a good 4 years now, and many of the teachers there will be coming down here to give lessons to anyone who wants to sign up.”

With all of that said, she brought her right arm up and tapped on the big white board next to her and words appeared, stacked vertically.

Anomalous Recondite Combatives Academy Noble Echelon

“Oracle, one of the two sponsors of this program, is inordinately fond of acronyms, so we have this little beauty.”

She tapped the board again and the first letters of each word self-highlighted, the rest of the words dissolving away and the letters swirling about to form ARCANE.

“Welcome to College Arcane, an educational experiment funded jointly by the Occult Research Alternative Combat League, also known as ORACLE, and the Demidova Corporation. Our purpose is to provide you, the children of the supernatural world, with a unique blend of college education and training specific to your own unique natures.

“Some of you were born into families with long histories of exposure to the paranormal. Some were born to normal families that had no idea how to handle your special gifts. And some were just exposed early and often, to the darker side of life. Whichever path you come from, the hidden world has left its stamp on you, perhaps making it harder to fit into normal society, to find your place. That’s our mission: to help you fit into this world.

“We’re also going to develop your skills, help you achieve the most you can get from your gifts while learning to control them. So although I’m sure you’ve all read your welcome packets as well as the information we mailed to you last month, let me layout the structure of our program.

“You will all pursue the educational direction of your choice, attending either the Palmetto University or Clemson University, or in some cases, both. I won’t lie. College is hard work and to make matters a bit more difficult, you will also be taking a few classes here. Three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, all of you will be taking Supernatural Survival, taught by Coach Wymack.”

The tough looking man, Neil knew to be a were of some kind waved at the group before folding his arms over his chest, the tribal flame tattoos up his arms looked dark and new, probably applied every few years seeing as the healing rate of weres were far greater than normal humans.

“This class ill be taught in the mornings, before your regular classes begin up the hill on the campuses. Specifically, six a.m. You will meet in our gym facility.”

There was a collective groan from nearly everyone around the room and Neil rolled his eyes. They all should have known all of this from the welcome packets they had all gotten.

“Your survival class is a combination of personal self-defense, situational awareness training, modern survival skills, and honing of any particular personal abilities that you have.” Gina paused, looking around at all of them for questions. She got none, so she continued.

“Additionally, following the same Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule, you will each have an evening class that has already been selected for you. The majority of you will take Explorations of Power with Miss Dobson,” The short plump stepped up a bit, a smile on her face as she waved at everyone.

“You may all call me Betsy, or Bee, or Hey You, I’ll answer to all of it.” The plump woman said before stepping back again.

“Those of you with more volatile natures,” Gina continued, smiling at the group of weres who were all spread out near the middle seats. “ – will be taking Control, also taught by Coach Wymack. Control will teach those of you with physical gifts not only how to manage your tempers, but to better use your strength and speed. If you Shift, it will teach you to gain the third form, the midway mode.”

All of the weres looked around at each other, all of them seeming excited by that news.

“Explorations is a carefully constructed curriculum designed to help you build control and skill with your gifts of the mind while exposing you to other facets of the supernatural world. Some of you have gifts that we term psychic for lack of a better classification, with maybe one of two specific abilities. We will hone those. Some are more broadly endowed with abilities. Witches, as it were. We will explore the spectrum of your Craft and share various approaches.”

She looked at the group of teenage witches on the other side of the room from the weres as she said that. Neil didn’t care enough to look at any of them. His focus was on the only vampire of the group. Neil wondered for a moment where the boy would be placed? Control? Or Explorations of Power?

Before he could turn away, the vampire’s head came up, his gaze meeting Neil’s head on again, and Neil had to keep himself from gasping. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine, but not unpleasantly so. Before he could linger any longer on that thought, he turned his attention back to Gina.

He’d have to ask Tania later about what the hell that had been. None of the other vampires in her coven had ever had any kind of effect on him before, much less an affect quite like this one.

“A few of you fall outside either of those categories and so you will audit both classes to broaden your understanding of the other world you’ve found yourselves a part of. Tuesday and Thursday evenings, the entire group of you will spend some time with Ms. Winfield. You’ll be discussing the recent events across the planet and what it means for each of you. This includes the events of Washington 4 years ago. The supernatural races have been exposed, permanently, to the normal world. Demons have still gotten the most exposure, but weres and vampires and witches are out as well. You’ll all be talking about how you should conduct yourselves, how governments and societies will respond from now on, who do you tell and when should you hide your abilities, and so much more.”

There was another bout of collective groans, but Neil was actually more interested in those classes than he would be in the Explorations one. With all of the training he’d gone through with Delcan in the past year, he knew how to control himself. Both witch half and Fae half. Taking classes on lower forms of magical control would just annoy him, he was sure of it, but maybe he’d get the chance to try that Witch War game Declan loved to talk about.

Gina smiled before holding up her hands to silence the groans. As soon as everyone quieted down, she started to speak again.

“In just a bit, we’ll adjourn to the dining room for dinner. I think you’ll be pleased at the quality, variety, and quantity of food that we have here for you. I’m quite confident it exceeds anything that any of the colleges provide. The dining area is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with snacks available at any hour for those with accelerated metabolisms. Your ID cards also work at either college in any of their eateries for those times when you are stuck on campus between classes.”

Gina waved her hand to the only man in a suit standing among the other adults, who stepped forward with a small wave and a smile. He looked a little nervous though and Neil was sure that the man knew exactly how many predators were in this room with him.

“Speaking of classes,” Gina continued. “In the next few days, please introduce yourselves to Charles Whittier, our in-house counselor and liaison to the colleges. He’s also the director of Palmetto University. He is the one who will help guide your college careers and facilitate your schedules and classes.”

With a small head bob, he moved back to the witch’s side, Dobson. Neil didn’t know why, but he was still weary of her. Something about her had him on edge and he wasn’t about to dismiss his instincts.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, the day before classes start. You can spend it as you wish, but I would suggest finding your classrooms on campus and picking up your books. They are all bought and paid for, but you will need to visit the college bookstore and show your ID to get them. Next to last, I want to let everyone know that Ms. Winfield here is also our on-site medical specialist. She is a gifted general practitioner with years of experience in the supernatural. Please, please see her if any of you experience any change in health.

“Finally, I’m going to turn the floor over to one of our sponsors for a few words on behavior.”

Neil didn’t even need to look behind him, he’d seen the man come in when no one else had. Everyone else though, snapped their heads back almost violently as Chris stood and made his way down between the auditorium’s single seats.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Neil finally looked back and up. Way up. The Amazing violet eyes seemed to smile at him as Chris nodded. Before moving passed him, Chris spoke. “Hey, sorry to come in like this. I know you didn’t want any of us coming today. I’ll talk to you later though, okay?” in a voice low enough that only Matt heard him.

It didn’t stop everyone else from noticing that the mother fucking Hammer of God stopped to talk to a lowly freshman student in the back though. Neil wanted to kick the damn angel man in the shin for that one.

Neil ignored everyone’s eyes on him, especially Matt’s shocked face next to him, as he watched Chris walk down the auditorium in jeans, running shoes, and a loose-fitting long-sleeved grey t-shirt. Despite the drab outfit, everything else about him commanded attention and soon enough he had everyone’s. Everyone’s but the golden eyed vampire that is. Neil could feel those breathtaking eyes on him and he didn’t want to look, his own focus resolute on Chris’s back.

When he’d gotten down to the front, Chris hugged Gina before turning to Wymack and Abby and shaking both their hands before clapping the human man on the shoulder. Neil noticed how he only nodded at Dobson though, and felt a bit vindicated about his own sudden distrust for the woman, though he was sure that for Chris, it was merely his distrust of all witches with the exception of Neil and Declan.

When Chris turned to face the crowd of students, all of them looked stunned or excited or both, but Chris himself looked edgy. Despite that, he smiled at everyone and waved lamely.

“Hi, I’m Chris Gordon and I represent one half of the partnership that is responsible for this opportunity,” he said it like no one in the room had ever seen a television program, or a newspaper or magazine cover in the last few years. “I’ll go ahead and apologize upfront. I believe I’ve yet to meet many of you, but you’ll see me around sometimes as I’ve been known to visit when the mood strikes. With that, I’d like to welcome all of you to college, or what Oracle likes to call it, College Arcane.”

A hand shot up in the middle of the group of witches before Chris could continue, and he faltered a bit before nodding at the girl.

She had dark skin and dark hair, her features verging on a softer native American. Her voice though was loud and clear. “What do the words mean? The ones that make up ARCANE?” she asked.

Chris smiled again, shaking his head a little. “I’ve had to explain this one every single year and I still needed to ask the same question last night.” The kids all laughed.

“Anyways, anomalous means rare or aberrant. Recondite has several meanings: hidden from sight, not well understood, obscure. Combatives… well, to be frank, we’re hoping to teach you how to protect yourselves and others. Lastly, Oracle ranks talents and abilities among the trained and untrained. The highest untrained ranking is Noble echelon – sort of a guess at your potential. There, clear as mud, right?”

“What are the trained rankings?” the same native American girl asked.

“Gina?” Chris turned to look at her.

“Paladin, Knight, and Champion echelons. Abby here will go over this with all of you as you progress throughout the year,” she answered.

“So there you have it. You’re in an academy. For what? To learn to survive and thrive as representatives of the supernatural realm. Why would we do this? That part is simple. At the end of your education, you will be prime candidates for recruitment by Oracle as operatives, should you choose that route, or recruitment by the Demidova Corp. Personally, I’m more than a bit biased for the corporate path. But if you prefer the government path, you have Oracle. You are also completely free to pick neither of those choices, but to forge your own path.”

“Would you recommend Oracle even after what they did to you and your family?” One of the psychics spoke out. Neil tensed just as he sensed Chris tensing to. There was a bone deep anger in his deep purple eyes as he turned on the speaker.

“Well, I’m not sure that I’m the one to give Oracle a rousing endorsement, but if you’re determined to go government, there are much worse choices. See, Oracle answers to the President and at the end of the day, they were just following orders. I won’t tell you exactly what happened, but I will tell you that it will never happen again,” Neil whistled low, one short note but it got Chris’s attention. It got the attention of nearly everyone, but Neil was dead set on Chris, trying to calm him with his talent and pushing Chris to let him do it.

It took a moment, but Chris finally relaxed and sighed, turning his eyes away from Neil’s finally and looking around at everyone who was looking between them like they were playing tennis.

“But there are good people in that organization, some of whom I owe big time,” Chris admitted, looking around the room at all of them. “Some of your teachers come from Oracle as well and represent a tremendous amount of experience,” Even though he smiled, his eyes were still hard and flinty. “Experience that you all need. So, to sum it up, you may get a job offer from our company or the government or both or neither. Our real goal is to see that you all have the skills to stay alive and prosper. Our world, the one that till recently has been confined to the shadows, is a very dangerous place. Exposure has not changed that, but it has changed some of the dangers. We want you to be prepared and we want you to find your way. Now, you all are under an obligation to follow the rules of conduct here. You all have power to some degree or another. Some small, others great. And with great power comes… Anyone?”

“Great responsibility,” about six different kids all said more or less simultaneously, one of them being Matt beside him, confusing the shit out of Neil for a second. How did everyone come to that one answer?

“Nope, that’s Stan Lee. The world I was going for was temptation. Temptation to use your advantages against those without advantages. Now, this isn’t like using a talent for singing to win a contest or allowing a naturally high IQ to achieve the highest grades. I’m talking about using your strengths or telekinetic power or telepathy or ability to shift into a veritable killing machine to intimidate or bully your peers. Don’t. Period. When we find you doing it, we’ll send you home, no second chances, no matter who you are.

“There’s also a second reason. Not to steal Coach Wymack’s thunder, but let me kick off your survival lessons with one of my own observations. The Supernatural world is a violent and dangerous place. It is also a murky, mysterious place where things aren’t always what you think. Assuming you are superior to someone else and using your abilities against one of your peers might result in them kicking your ass. It’s one thing to be physically imposing like… what’s your name?” Chris asked one of the bigger werewolf boys.

“Seth,” he said, trying to be cool about it but just looking smug.

“Right. So Seth is an imposing guy. What you might not know is that he is also a werewolf. That makes him strong and tough, with a second form about the size of a black bear. You might be thinking he is the most dangerous student among you. But you would be very, very wrong. There are at least a couple students here who are vastly more dangerous… and you probably won’t be able to point them out for at least a few weeks, if even then. There are also those among you who have yet to fully develop their abilities. So no bullying, no use of magic against each other unless supervised, and no violence.”

Seth, the big imposing werewolf looked almost offended with Chris’s statement that he wasn’t the strongest student in the class, and Neil smirked at that. He could already pick out a few people who would flatten Seth if given half a chance.

Without really noticing he was doing it, Neil’s eyes wandered over to the blond vampire, only to find those golden hazel eyes looking right at him. Neil froze. They were locked there, both of them unable to look away and caught by the other.

The blond was the first to break the contact as the boy by his side, also another blond, elbowed him in the side, turning those golden eyes away from Neil once again, and Neil’s chest fluttered. Geez, that was such a completely unusual reaction. What the hell was going on.

“Sorry, Seth. I didn’t mean to pick on you. But my warning is valid.” Chris’s voice cut into Neil’s thoughts and he turned his attention back to the front and away from the blond vampire. “Let’s say one of those girls over there,” Chris said, waving at the group of witches nearest the door, “ – got ahold of a strand of your hair. She could cast a spell on it and pretty much make you her bitch. Not that she would, I’m just making a point. As time goes on, you will all learn more about your classmates. I guarantee you will be surprised.”

The group of witch girls all smiled and smirked at the group of weres in the corner, with the exception of the two male witches, who mostly sat together on the edges of the female witches. One of them had a face tattoo as well, just like the one who sat next to the vampire. Neil saw it was a number when the boy looked to the side at the girl with light pastel hair sitting beside him. The other boy didn’t turn, refusing to look at anything or anyone, but sitting tall and proud, arrogantly like any other male witch from respectable families.

Neil spared a moment to mourn the fact that Declan couldn’t be there to whether this storm with him, but it would be slightly unfair since Declan quit college and started working for Demidova Corp full time, while also still giving advanced magic classes on the side in the Vermont College Arcane. Yet despite how busy his schedule had usually been, he’d always found some time to teach and hang out with Neil. Neil didn’t begrudge him the freedom quitting college had given him. Neil had always had training with the vampires of Team Demidova and Chris to keep him busy when Declan couldn’t.

“So I might suggest,” Chris was saying. “You all work with each other and not against one another. Look at it this way. As Gina said, the supernatural cat is out of the bag. Which is my fault, by the way. The world knows you exist. And people, no matter what race or species they are, tend to be intolerant at the best of times. You’ll do better together rather than separately. The connections you make here might just change your life… or save it.”

With those words of wisdom, he turned a wide grin to Gina. “That’s it. So now we can eat, Right Gina?” She flashed him a small smile and took a step forward again, but before she got any further, Chris spoke. “One last thing. Your welcome packet has a contact number in it for the Demidova Corp. If you need me, really need me, call that number, give your name, and ask for me. You will be packed through to myself, Tanya, or one of our team. But that’s for serious problems and emergencies because Gina, Abby, and their staff more than have things under control.”

“I think we can manage.” Abby said, sharing an eye roll with Gina as the two stepped forward together on either side of Chris. “Alright, if you will all file in an orderly fashion out this side door and down the hall to the first left. Dinner tonight is a buffet style and I think there is something for everyone.”

With that, it seemed that everyone was finally dismissed. Chris was the first out the door followed close by most of the teachers. Only Coach Wymack remained to watch the kids as everyone started to file out.

Neil stood, gathered his messenger bag, a gift from Declan after the other witch had seen the state of his own worn out duffle that had belonged to his mother years ago, and made his way down the auditorium’s side stairs.

Neil was looking down at each stair as he took them, used to some of his cousin Eirwen’s crueler pranks back when he was trapped inside the Summer Court, when he had to stop at the sight of toned legs covered in black denim and ankle high combat boots. The same kind Neil himself liked to wear since Arkady had given them to him as a birthday present last January.

Neil let his eyes flow up the muscled legs, to a slim waist, up a broad chest, thick shoulders, sharp angled jaw, pink pouty lips, slight upturned nose, and finally golden hazel eyes. Neil almost stumbled, but managed to keep his footing as he came face to face with the vampire boy he’d been sharing glimpses with all morning.

The two stood there, staring at each other, Neil wide-eyed and the vampire impassively, before Neil managed to gather enough of himself to speak.

“Hi. I’m Neil Josten. It’s nice to meet you.” Neil greeted, nodding his head but not offering his hand. One of which was holding onto the strap of his messenger bag and the other that was buried in the pocket of his hoodie.

The vampire was silent for a long moment, before one side of those pink lips lifted upwards just slightly in an amused smirk. Neil could feel his own lip wanting to pull up, but he shut that reaction down.

“Andrew.” The blond nodded in return, and then walked away.

Neil watched his back, the play of muscles working under a tight black t-shirt.

Andrew. For some reason, it was a fitting name for the vampire.

“Dude are you okay?” Matt’s sudden voice from behind startled Neil so bad he almost snapped out with magic.

“Fuck, Matt, don’t do that!” He yelled, before turning away from the taller boy and rushing his way down the stairs, ignoring the blush rising on his face and the laugh Matt couldn’t hold back behind him.

“Wait! Neil! Hang on, aren’t you going to tell me how you know, Christian Gordon?! Neil!”

“Okay, I’m going to start this off by saying that Tania didn’t send me.”

Chris’s voice came from behind him and Neil could only roll his eyes as he shoved another grape into his mouth. Two plates of food stacked high with meat and pasta and just about anything on the menu with a high caloric value. Neil’s own modest meal consisted of mostly fruits, with a side of mac ‘n cheese that he already knew he wouldn’t be eating anyways.

Matt sat with the other weres now, shooting Neil little apologetic looks, even as Neil was sure that the other boy was gossiping about him with the other weres. The red-headed Fae was struggling to keep his attention mostly on his food, but he allowed it to stray to Chris as the tall angel man sat down across from him to eat.

If he spared a moment to wonder were Andrew and his lot were, then there was no one to call him out on it. (Fucking Nika)

“Really? Then where is Agatha right now? Isn’t she the one who goes to talk to all the newbies during freshmen orientation at the College Arcane? Tania literally highered her for just that task.” Neil smirked, not buying the angel man’s bullshit. “It’s bad enough that she sent me here with Gina, but I wasn’t expecting you to drop in too.”

Chris smiled a bit sheepishly but he just shrugged his big shoulders. “Okay. So I wasn’t just sent by Tania. Declan wanted to be here himself, but he had a class with the advanced witches today. I volunteered.”

Neil huffed in amusement, allowing a smile to twitch on his lips. “Sure. How are Cora and Beowulf?”

At just the mention of his kids, the fallen angel’s smile turned into a bright and toothy grin of pure love and adoration. Neil had seen that proud parental look many times before from both Tania and Chris, but it always made something in his chest squeeze uncomfortably. He knew for a fact his own father had never looked at him like that, even less so with just the mere mention of his name.

“They’re doing great. Toni’s with them now, Tania’s in a meeting in Singapore with Lydia. Otherwise, you know Lyds would be here and not me.”

Neil flinched, but yeah, it was true. The short little blonde vampire had taken a shine to Neil during his second week in the mortal plane, when all of Neil’s attempts to be polite and kind dissolved into a tongue lashing directed at one of the summer interns that year, who had actually tried to grope Neil in the middle of one of Chet’s tech meetings.

His outburst had left about half the room stunned and the other half laughing their collective heads off. Lydia had seen the whole thing on the security cameras and sent it around the office as a warning to everyone about what happened when they messing with Neil. From then on, she’d mostly made herself Neil’s best friend.

“I’m sure she would.” Neil said wryly, picking at the strawberries on his plate. “So Declan, Tania, and Lydia were busy. What about Nika and Arkady?”

Chris shrugged, chewing fast so he could talk. “Supposedly she had something to do in Brazil and she took our resident vampire warrior with her. I’d have brought Sos with me, but I figured he’d be happier guarding Toni and the twins.”

Neil nodded, knowing the big werebear-wolf had a protective streak like nothing else when it came to the twins. “Okay, so what? Why’d you want to come check on me? I saw you and the rest of the team not two days ago.” His eyebrow rose as he pushed his plate away, crossing his arms over the lunchroom table and lowering his head onto his arms. His nerves were on edge, he could feel the stares of every kid in the dining hall with them. No doubt, all of those with sensitive ears were straining to listen in on what he and Chris were talking about, but Neil had used with wind to buffer their voices.

Despite knowing no one could eavesdrop, it still rankled Neil to be put on display like this. He could tell that Chris didn’t notice any of it though. Chris would only notice if there was a threat, but all of these supernatural kids were nothing more than flies for the fucking Hammer of God.

“I’m just here to make sure you were okay. I know we pushed you into this, Tania told me what happened when she and Declan told you about you having to attend this year.” Chris’s good nature and sympathetic eyes settled a bit of the edginess in Neil.

He sighed deeply and rolled his shoulder, letting his chin fall onto his crossed forearms.

“Tania had a point. I don’t know how anything works here, not really. All the social rules I know don’t fit into this world, and I’m sick of getting left behind in conversation every time Lydia and Declan make obscure pop-culture references. Math, science, history… fuck Chris, I’m not going to enjoy any of this, but its stuff I have to learn in order to live here.”

Neil’s voice was muffled a bit by his arms, but he knew Chris had heard him when a strong hand landed on his head, ruffling gently through his auburn hair.

“We understand you know. We really just want you to try. If you don’t think you can hack it, you can drop this school shit and me and Tania will find you a few tutors or something. Most people learn over time, and I’m sure you could too. The whole reason Tania wanted you here specifically was because you need to meet and interact with people. Team Demidova can’t be the only people holding you together.”

Neil frowned, closing his eyes and tilting his head into Chris’s hand. “It’s also why she sent me to this one and not the one in Vermont. With Declan teaching classes there and the popularity that Arcane gained over the last few years, I would be overwhelmed. I know. I’m fine. I’ll deal with this. Not like It’ll be as painful as living with my grandmother was.”

Chris winced, but he managed a strained smile anyways. “There you go. That’s the spirit.”

Neil snorted. “Yeah. Sure.” He straightened up and batted at Chris’s hand, shaking out his hair and rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll let you eat and get back home. Tell Tania I’m okay, I know she told Omega to keep an eye on me too. If I’m in trouble, all of you will be the first to know.”

“Now, that’s not fair. Omega keeps an eye on all of us.” Chris joked, although the weary look on his face whenever Omega’s overwhelming power was mentioned appeared as always.

“Yeah, but at least he isn’t acting like a baby monitor when he keeps an eye on the rest of you.” Neil pointed out.

“Hey, how do you know? I’m sure if I were in trouble, Omega would ring the warning bells.”

Before Neil could retort, a tinny voice spoke from Chris’s pocket.

“It is true. I would do anything in my power to assist any of you, should you find yourselves in a situation you could not handle.” Omega said from Chris’s phone.

“Thanks Omega.” Neil snorted. “I’m fine, though. Or I will be. I’ve already made friends with my roommate.”

“Matthew Donovan Boyd. Born Werewolf, 21 years old. Born August 5th. Mother: Randy Boyd, Father: Donald Boyd, currently living in New York City, New York with her long-term girlfriend Danielle Wilds, Born Wereleopard. Encinal personal analysis determined that he would be a good friend for Mr. Neil. He will be helpful but subdued. He is also personable and kind, ready to protect. I felt Mr. Boyd would become a great asset to Mr. Neil.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Omega, you can’t just push people at each other like that.”

Chris grinned. “I don’t see why. I did the same thing when Declan started college. His roommate Mac, was specifically chosen by Tania and I, as was Jeda. If I recall correctly, I also got them in contact with Ashley and Areal.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Ashley as in, the Speaker? The Voice for the Dragons?”

Chris nodded, smug grin still in place despite the food now in his mouth. Once he swallowed again, he spoke up.

“The very one. If not for Ashley, Declan would never have set foot in Fairie. We wouldn’t have saved you.”

And what a sobering thought that was.

Neil nodded solemnly, knowing the second Chris picked up on his emotions by the wrinkle between his brows. Before Chris could speak, Neil cut in.

“I’m gonna go check out the Palmetto campus, maybe call Declan about that whole Witch Wars game. Do you think we’ll be able to play it here?”

The wrinkle didn’t disappear, but Chris nodded. “I’m sure of it. He’s planning on coming down in a few weeks to get everyone started. After that, it should run smoothly with the Dobson witch referring the games.”

At the name of the weird plump witch Declan had seen that evening, Neil frowned.

The tall angel man nodded in sympathy. “I know, you don’t have a lot of love for witches, our Declan being the exception, but it would be wise of you not to make an enemy of her. She’s powerful and older than she looks.”

“You don’t trust her either.” Neil pointed out, a bit petulantly.

“I don’t have to trust her. You do. She’ll be the one teaching you.”

“Teaching me what? I’ve learned far more advanced witchcraft from Declan. I don’t understand why I’d have to take her class. I’m part elven, Chris. I have more magic than all of the witches here, and unlike Declan, I don’t have to borrow the power. It comes from me, from the very beat of my heart.”

“And I understand that, but its called Explorations of Power for a reason. You aren’t learning control, not like the weres. You’re learning to explore your power. Declan and I have worked a lot on restraining yourself, on keeping a leash on the worst of your wild magic, this is the time to see what you can do with it.”

“I’ve worked with Declan on more than just leashing my magic.” Neil dropped his head onto his arms again, sighing and not looking at the angel man across from him. “But I understand, okay? It’s experience and a sharing of knowledge that will hopefully make all of those involved a much stronger person individually. I heard the whole speech from Tania, even if she didn’t think I was listening.”

Chris laughed. “She knew you were. You always listen to her.”

Neil’s head came up and he shivered a little. “Are you kidding me? Of course I do! She’s fucking scary.”

Chris threw his head back and cackled, a deep smooth sound, but a cackle non-the-less. “Yes, she is. I tell that to everybody, but they rarely believe me. It’s those blue eyes I swear.”

Neil smiled back, enjoying the natural banter now that he’d gotten over most of his ire.

“Thank you, Chris. I know I’ve said it before, and I know you’ve told him not to. But thank you. For everything. All of you have been amazing. I will never be able to repay what you’ve done for me.” Neil said honestly, his chin on his crossed forearms on the table.

Chris paused, eyeing him critically before nodding. “We know. If you want to repay us, Neil, then be happy. That’s all we want for you. You do that for us, we’ll be square.”

Neil shook his head, a slight lift to the corner of his lips as he collected his things and stood. “I’m gonna let you eat. I’ll call Declan and Tania in a few minutes to let them know you’ve completed your duty.”

Chris’s phone vibrated on the table before Omega’s voice buzzed through the speakers. “There is no need for that, Mr. Neil. I have taken the liberty of contacting Mrs. Tania with your schedule and a report of your personal wellbeing.”

Neil snorted. “Privacy, Omega. Privacy.”

“I will try my best, Mr. Neil”

Chris chuckled for a moment too before he looked up at Neil with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Neil reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

“Is it charged?” Chris smirked, knowing the answer.

Neil pressed down on the button on the side. The screen remained black. He shrugged and Chris rolled his eyes fondly.

“There should be a new charger in your room. We hand Lydia shop for some of the things she thought you would need for college life. There should be a minifridge, microwave, and a tv up there too if she had her way.”

With a slight nod, Neil waved at Chris and turned to walk away.

A glance at Matt proved to be the wrong move. Everyone was staring at him. Werewolf, witches, whatever, everyone in the eatery was surveying him like he was some kind of alien: Interesting and Dangerous in equal measure.

Matt tried to give him a smile, but Neil turned away, steps rushing as he found the exit and walked right the fuck out.

Damnit, he’d almost forgotten.

Chris was such a personable individual that most of the time, Neil would forget that he was essentially a celebrity in this world. To be seen with Christian Gordon, the Hammer of God, was akin to putting a target of interest on your back, and Neil had just spent his whole lunch time talking and laughing with the man. In plain view of everyone.

Fucking shit.

Neil made haste away from the housing unit for the Arcane Project. Fox Tower was a sprawling, beautiful building but Neil was glad to leave it behind.

Despite the darkness of the late evening, Neil’s Fae blood gave him a kind of night-vision that was much different than the weres he’s hung around. It was easy to navigate the path to the Palmetto campus, especially since Neil had walked this path early that morning with Gina, talking about the classes he’d need to take to keep up with the other students. Exploring with Gina, and exploring alone though, were two different things, and Neil needed to find the strongest rivers of magic in this city.

Ley-lines were something only he could sense. Even Declan seemed to have trouble feeling the rivers of power flowing deep within the earth. Which was just as well. Declan had more power than he knew what to do with, if the most powerful witch in the mortal world knew about and could use the magical power of ley-lines, nothing would be able to stop him.

“Where do you think you’re going, elf.”

Neil stiffened, coming to a halt instantly and palming the knife at the small of his back as he looked around for the voice.

There. Atop one of the trees was a flash of pale blond hair.

“Andrew?”

The vampire that had stared at him and then introduced himself in the auditorium earlier that evening. Despite his better judgement, Neil’s body started to relax. There was something instinctual telling him that he was safe with Andrew. The vampire would never hurt him, he would be protected.

“Were you expecting the mutt you were sitting with tonight? What’s his name? Boyd?”

Neil’s eyes narrowed, brows coming together in confusion. “No. I expected he’d be with his pack the rest of the night. Dan likely wants to stake her claim on him in front of the other weres, since she’s the only leopard in a pack of wolves.”

Andrew’s eyebrow rose, but he said nothing, so Neil shrugged and turned to continue walking.

When he heard deliberate footsteps following after him, Neil smiled.

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