#sorry but i love the nasty aggressive deer i love them so so much
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mod2amaryllis · 8 months ago
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trying to enjoy nara my favorite place in the world while it is real feel like 30°f
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ruffianbc · 5 years ago
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SO. My beloved shippers. You wanted some RadioShow shit? Now take it!
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I was recently asked how I would describe this couple or they relationships? Well, I answer - half-sided sadistic bromance through mutual hatred. Shortly - like killing dance. I THINK (and this is headcanon) they both know how to dance swing (THIS IS THE BEST DANCE ON THE DAMN PLANET) and I can't leave you without thematic music ~~~
So, for this art - Music: The Correspondents - Fear & Delight
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Now let's talk about music. I created a small playlist on my youtube channel and I want to share it with you:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLI9Ha7CzBO8x5lMTTYevHnpWRsyKUBE61
Alastor, Husk, neutral
Fear and Delight
How far would you go?
FMLYHM
Burn
Kiss me you animal
Animal I have become
Exit Strategy
White noise
Play with fire
Paranoid
Everything black
Whispers in the dark
Enemies
Dangerous
My sweet prince
Gift for you
And big thanks to @norikodblackcat (CatCalls on AO3) for fanfiction! They really inspired me. For this art I chose (or this song chose me earlier I DON'T KNOW) - Music: Burn the ballroom - Kiss me you animal
BONUS:
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Now it's headcanons time!
I put everything in my head in one big pile, so I'm sorry about this big mess)
in life, Al wasn't be a "social person" at all, but he was very well developed acting skills. People saw him as he wanted them to see him and because he was so masterful in his bloody affairs without consequences for himself, but with a public resonance nevertheless.
in hell, Alastor just wildly pumped communication skills, because he can directly persuade anyone to his side and make a deal. And of course he's a good judge of character.
demon Al and human Al are somewhat different personalities. I believe that in hell he became the embodiment of a directly violent and bloodthirsty spirit, and also became more unpredictable and (here it is difficult to apply the word "mad", because he is though insane, but extremely smart and calculating bastard). In life, Alastor was twice or even three times more stable.
when people go to hell, they remember their life as if it were a dream. That eventually begins to be forgotten. Someone immediately, someone very slowly, and someone then catches flashbacks.
as a child, Husker really wanted to be a magician when he was growing up in a casino and in the midst of all this environment. But life has created a great fucking joke with him, he didn't shy away from fraud and in general his youth shook him well so, and by maturity he became a really tough man. As a result, his demonic form actually mocks him.
when Husker gets drunk, everything goes according to two scenarios: either he becomes even more angry and irritated and in the end someone may not count his teeth, or he begins to entertain himself with his favorite things with genuine enthusiasm, which does not always lead to good. When Alastor gets drunk, it gets fucked up (like drunk driving, which is one of the most harmless things he does).
Niffty may be the only one whom Husker has ever had a warm feeling for and a sense of "fatherly care," though she may give him a real head start on some issues.
Alastor is a fucking troll over 9000000+ level. And even though he considers showing emotion to be a weakness, he really REALLY likes to bring Husker out on these very emotions, because it's a hell of a lot of fun to watch. By the way, Niffty had learned from Alastor the habit of constantly smiling. She sometimes tries to copy his habits.
I don't know how about in the canon, but I think Alastor and Niffty have known each other longer than Alastor and Husker. And also, I'm thinking about the part that Niffty and Husker made a deal with Alastor and got their powers through it. All three of them have the same auras. However, Husk could be initially with a considerable level of strength and it's unlikely that he was persuaded the first time.
Alastor doesn't recognize the personal space of others AT ALL. But God forbid you to touch him without warning/approval.
Husk also has a reflex to sudden touches. He had been used to this feature of Alastor for a long time, but thanks to the war, he still couldn't shake the urge to grab something sharp in the unpredictable course of events.
of weapons, Husk has a clear preference for firearms. Actually, another thanks to war, he can use anything as a weapon.
well, only Husk and Niffty must have seen Alastor in a rage a couple of times and survived.
Alastor and Mimzy were good friends in life, and Mimzy was hopelessly in love with him until Alastor killed her under the influence of circumstances.
after one nasty fight, Alastor had to get out of the woods in blood-spattered clothes. The dogs were set on him, and during the chase one of the hunters mistook his silhouette for a deer. The result is a bullet in his head.
in the old years, Husker was drunk enough to hold a trophy gun to his head several times, genuinely hating his life. But the final shot never came.
my friend thought that in the Husk's family could be Russian-speaking people, and it is interesting headcanon.
Husker's tail works like a cat's, which sometimes gets him in trouble and annoys him.
during aggression, he can make a whole set of sounds of growling and hissing, and the tail moves from side to side.
he purrs, and it makes him MAD TOO.
well, he can lick himself, but almost never resorted to it, as he considers it disgustingan and unworthy occupation. And fur very very long dries up after washing.
for Alastor to start using obscene language, a real fucking thing has to happen.
Alastor is asexual and childfree, in modern terms.
although Husker is always challenging Alastor most of the time, sometimes this crazy deer scares him and he would be happy to never mess with Al in his life. Alastor knows this and it gives him pleasure to watch what is happening. I would also call him an energy vampire.
in general, if Alastor begins to be interested in some person, it sometimes turns into an unhealthy interest, which is also FUCKING scary.
Husker usually keeps a certain level of alcohol in his system at all times, because otherwise stress, flashbacks, migraines and apathy the size of hell begin to fall on him.
Husk hates his fur. HATES. And those damn wings, like he didn't have enough fur and shit.
Baxter is still a good companion and interlocutor for him, but sometimes they can just and correctly say each other to fuck off.
Sometimes Baxter even feels sorry for Husk that he has to go through so much shit, from FUCKING fur to having any dealings with Alastor.
posttraumatic syndrome. Just two words, and how much sense.
very defensive, just like I said, Husk is clearly not inferior to Alastor in this.
these triple have been dealing with each other so long that Husk and Niffty can read a HUNDRED expressions of Alastor's smile. Or more.
Like that: "oh fuck he's got right corner of his mouth at 45 degrees"; "run?"; "run."
A LOT OF LETTERS. Thanks to those who reached the end. I hope you enjoy it!
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gideongrace · 5 years ago
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'cause while you decide, i'm stuck here suffocating
// For @thenervousduck. This part was written to "Time" by Chase & Status. //
By the time they lead Billy to Steve's room his heart is ice and it feels like his blood's slowly going cold too, one inch, one segment, one vein at a time. He thinks if he stopped to count his heartbeats they'd be unbearably slow and he could be listed as a medical miracle for the fact that he's still walking with this cold and frozen heart that only seems to still be beating at all out of pure spite for him.
The second Billy steps into the room and looks at Steve with the big white-but-stained-red patch of gauze taped lopsidedly to his head, lying in the hospital bed with the crisp, white sheets and the thin, scratchy looking blanket, he twitches. Steve's eyes go Bambi big the second he sees Billy and he smiles like there's nothing in the whole world seeing Billy couldn't fix. His whole face is this dopey, happy, freshly-scrubbed mess and Billy looks down at the IV in Steve's arm with an eyebrow raised nearly to his hairline, wondering what sort of drugs they're pumping Steve full of to get him this blissed out after an experience like the one they just had.
"I'm alright," Steve says, his mouth mushing up the words until they're almost unintelligible. 
"You're alright?" Billy says quietly. The ice in his veins cracks almost audibly and makes his heart stutter in his chest. He can almost imagine little fissures appearing in his skin, feels it thawing violently.
"Yeah," Steve says, so dopey, so happy, so drugged up he's completely ignorant to the storm brewing only just a few feet from him. "Is just a concussion." 
The ice inside Billy shatters, sending out spikes like a hand grenade, slicing to ribbons every piece of him they touch and leaving boiling rage and scalding fire in their wake. "Just a concussion. Just. A concussion." The words are red hot as Billy spits them out. He shakes his head like it'll put out the flames, but it only winds up fanning them. "When I said it's your funeral I didn't mean I wanted you to try to need one!" He groans and it's this sharp and wicked thing that claws its way out of his throat like it's trying to eat him alive. "I should never have let you come!"
Steve's dopey, happy look flops over into petulance. "'Cause I'm useless in a fight, right?" he says like it's a question even though it's clear he believes it like it's fact. He folds his arms across his chest and blows his now floppy, fluffy hair out of his face. 
Normally, if Steve said something like that Billy would want to run to him,  want to brush a hand through his hair and tell him he's wrong, he's not useless, he's amazing. Normally. But right now the fire won't let him, right now all he feels is that fire rising, crawling through his skin and screaming to be released.
Somehow, he manages not to scream. Somehow, he manages to grind out, "No. Because I love you, you fucking idiot," instead of calling Steve all the mean and nasty names that are currently running through his head. 
Steve's mouth drops open and his eyes bounce around the room, landing on everything but Billy. He uncrosses his arms, recrosses them, bites at the side of his thumb but ultimately, after all of that, says nothing.
And Billy? He wants to wait for an answer. He wants Steve to say it back. He wants Steve to say something, anything, but that fire inside of him is growing hotter by the second and he knows that if he waits he'll say something that'll guarantee that not only will Steve not say it back, but that Steve'll leave him so he swallows down the flames in his throat and does the only thing he can do in this moment - he turns and walks out of the room. 
///
Because I love you, you fucking idiot.
I love you. 
I love you. 
I love you. 
I love you. 
I love you.
And still he left. 
Billy said I love you and still he left. 
He left and Steve's just been staring at the door, staring and waiting and it's been five minutes and Billy isn't coming back and Steve can't follow after him right now and the room is spinning and the good, happy drugs have turned on him and - 
"Yo, Steve," Dustin says with a sharp knock on the door. Steve stares at him wide-eyed for a moment before breaking down and crying just big, fuck ugly sobs and snot and giant crocodile tears right out in the open, right where the whole world can see. 
Dustin comes flying into the room, whispering, "Woah, woah, woah, hey, buddy, hey," all nerves. Once he's standing at Steve's bedside he pauses, hands up, palms out, bottom lip pinched between his teeth like the way you might approach a spooked deer or a rabid dog. Dustin's never been great with tears. Steve isn't either, not when it's other people and really not when it's himself. Doesn't mean he has even the slightest capability of turning off the water works, though. 
Dustin takes a big breath, holds it in and plants himself in the chair next to the bed before grabbing the anorexic looking little box of kleenexes sitting on the table beside it. He holds it out for Steve, his lip still pinched between his teeth. 
Steve takes a big, fat handful, basically emptying the box and blows his nose loudly. It's disgusting and he wishes he didn't care, but he does. He really, really fucking does. "Sorry," he says, voice all nasally and pitiful.
"No apologies necessary," Dustin says with the softest of smiles. "Real men cry sometimes."
Steve sniffles. There are still tears flowing down his cheeks and no more kleenex to stop them. "What, did your mom tell you that?" He knows it's too mean as he says it but the way Dustin rolls his eyes, like he's not at all taking it to heart, like he knows Steve's just upset, makes him feel a little better. 
"My mom is a wonderful lady and yes, she did," Dustin says, a little too matter-of-fact to be smug and a little too smug to be matter-of-fact. He grabs the nasty used kleenexes and empty kleenex box from Steve then throws them at the little beige garbage can by the door, sinking them in perfectly. It's a really cool move, that is, it is until Dustin spins too fast in his seat to look at Steve like, "Did you see the super cool thing I just did?" and almost falls off his chair.
Steve puts a hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing, even as he's crying, but it doesn't help, he just winds up laughing through his fingers (and his tears) anyway. "You're such a nerd," he says, his voice coming out strained even though he means for it to be teasing. 
There's an awkward pause after that because usually in situations like this you're supposed to either laugh or cry but somehow Steve has chosen to do both, leaving the mood in the room in this weird middle ground between too much and not enough that leaves both of them with no idea how to move forward.
But then that's just Steve all over, isn't it? Too much and not enough and no idea how to move forward.
After a minute or so Dustin breaks the silence with an aggressive cracking of his knuckles and a grimace that Steve isn't sure is for what he's about to say or for the pain he just caused himself with that knuckle crack. "Right. So…" he says so awkwardly Steve knows the grimace is for whatever he's trying to get out. "What… what's the crying about?" 
"Ummm…" Steve gulps, swiping at his cheeks, wiping away his tears even as more of them rush in to make his efforts entirely useless. He just cannot stop crying. It's like something inside of him has cracked, some dam has been unblocked, some thing has just wiggled itself loose and is now letting all of these tears free, like he'd just had them all stored up and waiting inside of him, just waiting for this moment, just waiting for -
No one's ever told them they loved him and meant it before. His mother hasn't said it at all in years and even when she said it to him as a child there was something in him that just knew she hadn't meant it, just knew she'd been saying it because she was supposed to, because that's what you're supposed to say to your children, and she'd stopped as soon as she could get away with it. He thinks his father said it once, but he can't remember it specifically, just assumes it has to have happened at least once, at least one time. And Nancy definitely hadn't loved him. But - 
Billy. Billy does. 
And still he left anyway. He left anyway, like everybody always does. 
And Steve doesn't even care, he's not even mad, he wants to be mad, he probably even should be mad, because who says I love you and then just runs away? But… 
But…
But…
Steve loves Billy so much, too goddamn much to care, loves him a truly dangerously, soul-ruining amount, loves him more than he'll probably ever have words for, loves him more than there might even be words for, loves him more than the sky loves the sun, more than the shore loves the ocean, because Billy is like the ocean, like the tides and his eyes are so, so blue, the most perfect shade of blue ever and - 
"Steve, breathe!" 
Dustin's voice snaps Steve back to reality and Steve's confused to find Dustin's smiling at him. 
"It's something to do with Billy, isn't it?" 
Steve nods, alarmed and embarrassed to find that he's still crying, after all this. Still has this freaking internal waterfall pouring out of his eyes.
"I'll go get him for you," Dustin says, still with this little smile on his face he probably thinks is coy but definitely isn't. Steve has no idea what it is, but coy isn't it. 
"Thanks," Steve says. 
After Dustin walks out, Steve's head drops back on to his pillow like it weighs a million pounds. 
He's exhausted.
// canon but gayer verse - part one - part two +part three+ part four - part five //
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vendettacanons · 4 years ago
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Name Meme -> Buck, from Lydia || @maximuses
⚔️ Muse Opinions Meme // CLOSED ⚔️
⚔️ @maximuses ⚔️
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“Ooh, I get to talk about Buck for a bit! How exciting! There’s so much I could say about him, and you know it too. Buuuut, I guess— for the sake of courtesy— I’ll try to keep to the questions and avoid rambling too much.”
“Most admirable quality: Admirable quality, huh? I say Buck has quite a few. And you know exactly what I mean by that. I’m sure the locals probably don’t agree with me— they did nickname him the Sadist after all. They just don’t appreciate his many talents in bed like I do. Buuuut I’ll spare you the nasty details and go for something a little less... acknowledged. It’s a shame too; his mind. Buck is fucking brilliant. His little history tangents? They’re adorable! He gets so into them, loves explaining every little thing, every little detail. I’ve never been much for history myself— academics in general weren’t my strong point. But I love entertaining his little rambles on everything. I ask a lot of questions because I’ll be honest, I’m dumb as a rock, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He loves answering them! I love his enthusiasm and his passion for history! He makes it fun with how animated he is! Shame about his ‘aggressive tendencies’, shall we say. He’d make a great history teacher.”
“Most attractive physical feature: There’s a lot Buck has going on in terms of being attractive physically. Of course, I’m biased— I love tattoos and facial hair like his a lot. So needless to say, I took one look at the ten-pointer on his chest and that scruffy beard and I was in love. Not to mention he’s got a bit of muscle on those bones so... but hmm. As far as most attractive goes, I would say... his eyes. Between you and me, I think I know why his folks named him Bambi. It’s those gorgeous, brilliantly blue eyes of his. When he’s focused on something they get so wide and lovable, you could just get lost in them. Not to mention on the off chance you manage to catch him off guard they go all wide and give him a full ‘deer in headlights’ kind of look.”
“Most annoying habit: Oh yeah, I knew this was coming at some point. Loving someone is like living on the Rook Islands— paradise has its ups but it most certainly has its downs as well. Sorry to say, Buck isn’t an exception. Not that I walked into this expecting him to be. Hell, I wasn’t expecting to walk into a relationship at all, much less with him, but I’m glad I did. And frankly, his flaws are tolerable compared to most others.
Buck is laid back. Like... really laid back. And that’s fine— I like a guy who can take a joke and know that life isn’t all about work, it’s meant to be lived. But like, with Buck, it’s extreme. It’s not just the typical “no worries” type of attitude. It borders on procrastination, I guess is the word. Or Sloth— God I don’t even know how to describe it but like... He’ll see things and be aware of situations. He’s alert and he’s observant but he’s just... lazy, in a sense. He won’t take anything seriously, especially if it’s meant to be serious. He just sort of rolls his eyes and waits for it to become trouble. Like he’ll know there’s something wrong and something that he should probably get involved in, but he just won’t. He’ll know there’s a problem but he will put off addressing it until it poses an immediate danger.
It’s like if you had a leak in your house, Buck would just put a bucket down and let it fill, and then overflow, and say it’s okay and do nothing until the roof is literally caving in and about to give in from the stress. Or if you had like a candle knock over and burn up a table, he wouldn’t do anything about it, just kind of sit there while the house catches on fire like ‘this is fine’, until someone gets burned. Then- Then he starts trying to put it out. I don’t know if he’s like this naturally or if living on the islands made him like this— even with his work he tends to have this like ‘it’s not my problem until it starts affecting me’ attitude. And usually it’s not an actual problem. He’s still relatively attentive if I need something or if something has to change immediately for the sake of safety, he doesn’t put off that kind of stuff... but... it’s definitely caused us a scare once before... Granted he straightened up a bit after it and promised it wouldn’t happen again but... I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen much change. It worries me.”
Something they would like to do with them: I think a better question would be what wouldn’t I like to do with him? I mean granted, I think we’ve tried just about everything under the sun and— oh wait, we’re still keeping it safe for work, aren’t we? Uhh, hmmm... well I have to admit, it’s been amazing spending these last few months with him on the Rook Islands. Sitting on the beaches sipping beers together, kissing in the sunset— among other things. Going gliding and swimming in the waters, laying in hammocks together and napping in the sun. It’s been great letting him lead me around the island and finding all sort of beautiful spots to sit and spending the days together talking about ourselves. We even tried dancing at some point but uh... well, I’d chalk it up to uneven ground sending us tumbling, but the truth is, I don’t think either of us actually knows how to dance. Hey, at least we got a good laugh out of it.
But you know— if you spend a long enough time anywhere things get... boring. You do all there is to do, see all there is to see— plus, Rook isn’t exactly ideal for me. Too many mosquitos and hostile animals to really wanna stay here long-term. For someone like Buck, it’s just another place like home. He’s comfortable here. I don’t blame him, he’s the adaptable type. Still, I think I’d like to travel with him. See the world, explore new places, maybe even settle somewhere perfect for both of us. I wanna take him with me, have him there when I write new chapters of my life. Chapters with him in them. Pfft— I don’t think I could actually convince him to actually go along with my idea but hey, a girl can dream, can’t she? I don’t have the leisure of seeing him whenever I want, so I’ll make the most of the time I do have with him now, on these short combination business trips and vacations.”
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sockablock · 6 years ago
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In which the plot thickens (sorry it took me so long to get this on tumblr!)
Chapter 3: Gods and Wishes
“You’d think an all-powerful enchanter and favorite of the Cerberus Assembly would have better handwriting,” Molly muttered as he peered at the small slip of paper in his hands. “I can barely read this.”
They moved through the streets of Zadash, weaving between roaming pedestrians and pausing to smile disarmingly at disgruntled and confused-looking Crownsguard, who waved back hesitantly.
“Here,” said Beau, “let me. My teachers always had shit handwriting.”
Molly passed the unfolded parchment over, and Beau examined it closely.
“I think one of them is called Tales,” he offered, “but I have no idea what that means.”
“The Fates,” read Beau.
“Nevermind.”
The monk smirked and kept going. “Upon drawing this card…whoa, fuck, upon drawing this card, reality’s fabric unravels and spins anew, allowing you to erase one event as if it never happened. Must be used before you die. Card vanishes after chosen.”
There was a long pause from the rest of the group.
“O-kay then,” breathed Fjord, giving Beau an impressed look. “Wow, Pumat wasn’t kidding when he said these things were insanely powerful.”
“That’s like…the most power ever,” nodded Jester.
Jester raised an eyebrow. “But…but doesn’t this mean that we could use it? If we picked that one, then we could just make it like Molly never took that card! It would all be fine again!”
Molly bit his lip. Inside, temptation clawed desperately at the knot of worry forming in his chest. “I could undo what I did to Caleb. Whatever it was.”
“That’s true,” Fjord agreed, “but what if altering one thing in the past changes the future drastically? What if something even worse happens?”
“Worse than Caleb trying to kill Molly?” Jester asked, and then stopped short. “Sorry,” she said softly. “That wasn’t so nice.”
Molly gave her a smile. “It’s alright,” he said. “I get what you were trying to say.”
Beau spoke up again. “Remember, though, there’s no guarantee to what card we get. And there’s some pretty nasty cards in here that I hope would never see the light of day.”
“Like what?” Fjord asked.
“Well, here’s a fun one. Flames,” she read. “A powerful devil becomes your enemy, and seeks your ruin and plagues your life. It savors your suffering before attempting to slay you. This enmity lasts until either you or the devil dies.”
Fjord whistled. “Fuck,” he said.
“Oh, wait, there’s more, though. This one’s called The Void. According to Pumat, if you pick it, your soul is drawn from your body, and transported into an object located on another Plane of Existence, guarded by one or more powerful beings which must be defeated in order to return you to your body, which remains in a lifeless, vulnerable, coma-like state while soulless.”
“Well, I think I got lucky with Rogue, then,” Molly said. “That sounds even worse than what we’re dealing with now, I think.”
“Is Rogue on that list?” Jester asked.
“If only we were so lucky,” Fjord sighed.
Beau shook her head. “No, but there’s another one that might actually help. It’s called the Moon, and it grants the bearer the ability to cast the wish spell.”
“The wish spell?” Fjord asked. “What’s that?”
Jester shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
“I don’t exactly know,” Beau said, “but I’ve heard of it before. I know its really powerful, and I think it actually does give the caster the ability to make a wish.”
“And if we could use it,” Molly realized, “we could wish away whatever’s happened to Caleb.”
“Exactly.”
Fjord nodded, but he looked reluctant. “I’d say maybe we can keep that as a Plan B, or maybe a Plan E, in case things really don’t go well. It’s…it’s pretty tempting to pick a card and hope we get one of those, but like Beau and Pumat said, it’s a huge risk. We could end up with something much, much worse on our hands.”
“Plus, maybe it’s not so bad, right now,” Jester volunteered, trying to stay positive. “Caleb is easy to knock out. And maybe it’s already worn off. Maybe everything is fine.”
------------------------------
Caleb put his head in his hands, or tried to as best he could, since his wrists were still bound together.
“I attacked Mollymauk,” he said, voice slightly muffled. “I truly tried to hurt him?”
Nott had her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but I’m sure you didn’t mean to,” she insisted.
“You are acting quite differently now,” agreed Yasha. “Before, you were very aggressive, and even less up for talking than usual.”
“And you’re certain I didn’t hurt him?”
Nott nodded. “Absolutely. Well, maybe you singed him a bit, but we weren’t there for that part, and he seemed pretty much fine.”
“He is naturally resistant to fire,” added Yasha, “so it could not have hurt that badly.”
“Yes, but it was still flame that I attacked him with.” Caleb gave a short laugh, humorless and bitter. “Gottsverdammt, I cannot believe I continue to hurt my loved ones the same way, every time.”
“You didn’t mean it,” repeated Nott. “It’s the card Molly pulled that made you do it.”
“Definitely,” said Yasha.
“Do you know that for a fact, then?” Caleb muttered. “Do you know if it will happen again?” The girls paused for a moment.
“No,” Yasha relented. “We do not. That is why the others left the two of us here.”
Caleb nodded into his palm. “Nott, who is always a friendly face, and you, who is very strong and can dispel magics with your sword.”
“I am also quite friendly,” Yasha added, and Caleb chuckled slightly at that.
“Of course,” he said.
“They’ll figure out what’s going on,” Nott said firmly. “And then we’ll undo the curse and everything will go back to normal. Or maybe the curse is already over. You don’t seem so angry anymore.”
“I do not feel angry either,” said Caleb, “but what if that changes? What if suddenly I strike out at Mollymauk once more, or at one of you two? I cannot be trusted alone, now.”
“But you aren’t alone!” said Nott. “We’re here. We’re…we’re babysitting.”
Caleb sighed. “I do not like needing to be watched over, but I appreciate your point.”
“I know your…mental state is…is iffy, but what do you think we should do now?” Yasha asked. “You are the knowledgeable one, you know many things.”
Caleb shrugged. There was a defeated weight to his movements. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d look for more information about the cards. Bring me to a temple and have the clerics try their own restorations. Never let me out of your sight. If I…if I relapse, or whatever you may call it, and try to attack Molly or anybody else again, leave me behind.”
Nott’s ears flattened. “We’d never do that!” she cried. “We’d never leave you behind.”
Caleb looked up and gave her a weak smile. His face was red, and the corners of his eyes damp. “Thank you, spatz. But now I am a danger to the group. That is how you treat dangers.”
“No,” said Yasha, mildly surprising them both. “We find out whether or not the curse has worn off, and if it has not, we cure you. There is no alternative path.”
Caleb was silent for a moment. Then his expression softened and he nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and turned to Nott as well. “Thank you.”
------------------------------
“Maybe…maybe you should wait in the hallway,” Fjord suggested, “just in case. I’m not…I’m not entirely sure what to expect.”
Molly nodded ruefully. “I get it,” he said. “It’s the smart thing to do.”
“Would you like me to keep you company?” Jester asked.
He shook his head, jewelry jingling softly. “Nah, get in there. Caleb likes you, I’m sure he’d be more cooperative if you were there.”
“He likes you too,” Jester said, and gave him a pat on the hand. “He’s just…confused right now.”
“C’mon,” said Fjord, and turned the doorknob, “the sooner we find out what’s happening, the better.”
The first thing they saw was Yasha, blocking the rest of the room and wearing a slightly panicky look on her face. “Things, er, things might have gotten a little bit more complicated,” she said in a hushed tone.
“What do you mean?” Beau asked, and craned to look over the aasimar woman’s shoulder.
“We think the curse might have worn off, or something,” Yasha explained. “He…he doesn’t remember attacking Molly.”
Fjord’s expression went from surprise, to confusion, to skepticism in about half a second. It was actually rather impressive.
“And you’re sure he’s telling the truth?” he asked. “You’re certain?”
“Nott seems completely sure,” said Yasha.
“She’s biased,” frowned Beau. “She always defends him.”
“But she wouldn’t want him the to stay cursed forever,” Jester argued. “She cares too much for that, and she’s not dumb.”
“I agree,” said Yasha. “And, though I am not the best judge, I also think he is telling the truth.”
They all looked at Fjord, who thought for a moment, then asked, “Jester, you’re sure you’re out of spells still? No secret, extra Zone of Truth in there?”
“None,” she sighed.
He nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s…let’s be wary, but give him the benefit of the doubt, here. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it has worn off.”
“I will stand outside with Mollymauk,” Yasha said, moving past the others and into the hallway.
The first thing they noticed was Caleb’s expression, anxious and troubled, plastered on a face reddened by frustration and tears. He looked towards them as they entered, head jerking upwards like a startled deer down a crossbow shaft. He hastily wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.
Fjord and Beau managed to hang on to their skepticism by a thread. Jester’s heart melted immediately.
“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.
Caleb gave her a weak smile. “I think alright, though in light of recent information? Rather troubled. How is Mollymauk?”
Beau shrugged. “He’s fine,” she said. “Also troubled, I guess, but aren’t we all?”
Caleb breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?” he asked.
Fjord and Beau exchanged looks. Then Fjord pulled a chair from the small table on the side and sat down, straddling it backwards and leaning on his forearms. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now,” he said gently. “I assume Nott and Yasha filled you in?”
Caleb nodded. “Apparently I tried to attack him with…with fire.”
“And you called him some really mean things,” Jester said. The guilt in Caleb’s chest doubled.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t…I honestly, completely and truly, do not remember what I said. But I am still very sorry, Jester.”
She nodded, slightly mollified. “It’s not your fault. It was the card.”
“So I have been told. But…but I do not feel cursed, or anything of that nature at the moment. I feel fine, even.”
“He really is normal,” Nott added. “Well, normal-ish. As normal as he usually is.”
“I understand if you do not believe me,” Caleb sighed. “Though at least I would like some more answers? Is what happened because…because of the cards? The Rogue one, that Molly pulled?”
“Probably,” said Beau, “almost definitely. But we don’t know shit for sure.”
“We did learn a bit about some of the others?” supplied Fjord, in an effort to lighten the mood.
“All of them do something different,” said Beau. “There’s one called the Moon, that grants wishes, we think, and another called Flames that sets a devil after you. And, Void, that steals your soul, and Fates, that lets you change one thing that already happened.”
Something in Caleb’s mind went off when she said that.
“It lets you alter the past?”
“Yeah, or something like that. Remember, though, it’s all random chance and you might end up pulling out something crazy that kills you instantly. Or steals your soul.”
Caleb filed that information away for later. “Understood,” he nodded.
“But nothing on Rogue?” Nott asked, bringing the conversation back.
They shook their heads.
Caleb sighed. “So we are still at square one.”
Fjord leaned in, and took a closer look at the wizard. “You really feel alright?” he asked.
Caleb met his gaze. “Yes,” he said. “Completely.”
“So if I asked you what you thought about Mollymauk…?” Beau prompted.
“He is the love of my life,” Caleb said immediately. “And I…I do not enjoy knowing that I have hurt him.”
They all exchanged looks again. The peculiarity of the fact was not lost on any of them, but as far as they could tell, Caleb’s personality had completely reverted from the angry, aggressive attitude of before. He was back to being the usually kind, somewhat melancholy wizard they had grown fond of.
Jester, soul already aching, gave Fjord and Beau a pleading look. “Oh, please?” she asked. “Please, can we bring Molly in?”
Fjord bit his lip. “Alright,” he said, and nodded. “But you won’t mind if we keep your hands tied up, just at first?”
Caleb gave him a weak smile. “Knowing him, Molly might be happy to see me like this,” he said.
------------------------------
“You really think he’s normal again?” Molly asked as Yasha closed the door behind her.
She shrugged, and leaned against the wall. “I think so,” she said. “It is up to the others now to decide.”
“But what did he say?” Molly pressed. “What was he like?”
“He was like his usual self,” she said. “Sort of sad. Mostly quiet. He seemed very upset when we told him what he did to you this morning.”
Molly swore. “I should never have pulled that damn card,” he said. “Now Caleb’s going to feel terrible and guilty for what happened. He’s already got…got issues with loved ones and fire, and now this? Gods, this is going to weigh awfully on him.”
“And what about you?” Yasha asked quietly. “This morning your lover tried to kill you. He called you many things nobody ever should. How are you feeling?”
Molly gave her a charming smile. “I don’t care about me, dear. I’m fine. It’s Caleb that’s going to be destroyed—”
“Mollymauk.”
His shoulders slumped. “Not great,” he admitted. “I know…I mean, I’m sure it’s the cards that were doing the talking, but I didn’t exactly care to hear those words coming out of his mouth.”
“And the fire?”
“Not very pleasant either.”
Yasha nodded, satisfied. “No bullshit with me, Mollymauk.”
He smiled at her again, this time genuine and a little sad. “I know, I know. Thank you.”
“Did Pumat give you any information about the card? A cure, or at least what the exact effects were?”
He shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “We learned a bit more about some of the other ones that exist, and there are two that might be able to help, but gods, most of them are terrible. I’m honestly not sure it’s worth the risk to try and fish them out.”
The two of them stood in silence for a while.
“On a scale from one to ten,” Molly began, “how badly did he react to—”
The door creaked open, and Jester stuck her head out. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but we think Caleb actually is fine now.”
Molly breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the gods,” he said. “Are you sure?”
Jester bit her lip. “Not entirely?” she said. “Come in, though, we want to check if anything will happen when he sees you.”
Molly nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do that.”
------------------------------
Molly’s heart broke when he saw the disheveled, tortured expression on Caleb’s face when he walked in and their eyes met. The guilt hanging around the wizard was almost palpable, the frayed rope binding his wrists and ankles a heavy reminder of what had happened earlier, and Molly wanted to reach out and tell Caleb that it wasn’t his fault, it was mine, don’t worry, dear, we’ll fix everything and—
Fjord cleared his throat, and Molly realized he had been speaking out loud.
Caleb gave him a reassuring smile. “Danke, schatz, but so far I think we are alright? I do not feel the sudden urge to attack you, if that is what we are all waiting for.” For the first time in a few hours, there was hope in his voice.
“Maybe you should try touching each other,” Nott suggested. “Just in case.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Molly strode across the room. The entire party watched Caleb’s face with rapt attention as Molly got closer and closer, until one purple, ringed hand reached out brushed the tips of Caleb’s fingers.
“Are you…are you okay?” Molly asked.
“I think so?” Caleb murmured. “I do not feel anything strange.”
Their hands intertwined, and the fear in Caleb’s expression melted into immense relief. Molly’s heart soared.
“How are you now?” Fjord asked.
Caleb smiled slightly. “Wonderful,” he said. Beau made a puking motion in the background, and Jester beamed. Fjord still looked cautious, but significantly more relaxed.
“Can we please untie him?” Nott asked. “I think this is pretty good proof that it’s over, now.”
Beau nodded. “Nobody’s that good of an actor,” she said. “I can’t stand Molly, I know how hard it would be to pretend to love him.”
“Here,” said Yasha, pulling out a dagger and moving closer, “I’ve got it.”
As the ropes fell away and Caleb rubbed his wrists, the group waited to see if anything else would happen. When nothing did, Fjord grinned.
“I still say we keep an eye on you, and do a bit of research to make sure tomorrow,” he said, “but maybe…maybe it did wear off.”
“Welcome back,” said Jester. “I like you better this way.”
Caleb nodded. “I agree,” he said. “I prefer not to be actively trying to injure you,” he added with a glance at Molly.
The tiefling leaned in. “Not unless I ask first, of course,” he grinned, and Beau made more retching sounds.
“Well,” said Fjord, “since now we’re not so worried about…all that, let’s get back on track. I’m gonna head over to the Signet Wall, if anyone wants to come, and we should probably check in with Dolan and the Lawmaster to see what word is on the war. We haven’t been in Zadash for a while, so we mind as well hear what’s up.”
“I would like to go see Pumat,” said Caleb. “Now that I have money, I could use more ink and paper.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Molly.
“So will I,” said Nott and Yasha at exactly the same time.
Caleb sighed. Their intentions were well-placed, if not extremely obvious. “Of course,” he agreed. “The more the merrier, as they say.”
------------------------------
Molly leaned against the headboard and appreciatively watched Caleb bend over to undo his bootlaces. Frumpkin was curled up by the tiefling’s side, purring against the bedsheets as Molly stroked his fur.
“I’m amazed they’re letting us sleep together tonight,” Molly remarked as Caleb placed one shoe at the foot of the bed. “You’d think they would switch back to the old rooming situations. Though I can also guess why they wouldn’t want to.”
Caleb frowned as he turned to his other boot. “I think we should have,” he said. “What if this curse isn’t over? What if I attack you again, or something else awful happens? We have no idea what the effects were, and just because I feel fine now, doesn’t mean we are in the clear.”
“So what do you suggest? We have Nott and Yasha sleep in here too? They’ve been tailing us all day, and I know for a fact that at least one of them is sitting on a stool outside. I saw it on my way in. I was just…I was just looking forward to, you know, some us time.”
Caleb sighed, and looked at Molly. “I would like that also,” he said, “but you must think of the risks. I could have killed you, had the group not intervened and had you been any worse a fighter. I…I have done this sort of thing before,” he added quietly, “and I would prefer it not happen again.”
Molly’s voice softened. “I know, I know,” he said. “I…I know. But I didn’t die?” he tried, and then smacked himself mentally. “I mean, you didn’t actually hurt me. And I know for certain that you didn’t want to, right?”
“Well, yes—”
“So it’s different, now. Sort of. You weren’t completely in control the first time…something like this happened, and you certainly weren’t in control of yourself last night. This morning. I mean, we know for sure, probably, that it was because of these crazy magic cards. And now that you’re back to normal, everything is okay.”
“It sounds so simple when you say it like that,” Caleb said bitterly. “It is not.”
Molly struggled for the right words. He settled on, “I’m sorry, I know. I just…I don’t know what to say to make you feel better.”
Caleb slipped his other shoe off and sat down on the bed. “I’m not sure I deserve to feel better,” he said. “I have done two horrible things, now, both with fire, both to my loved ones, both—as you and Nott always say—that were not my fault. And yet, they still feel like they were.”
Molly shook his head. “Maybe…maybe the first one was, a little bit. I don’t think so, still, I stand by it being the brainwashing of that bastard at the academy, but maybe it was. But the second time? Just now? All my fault. I’m the one who pulled that fucking card when you told me not to, and now you’re suffering for it.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. “You are not?”
“Well, I mean, a little bit, but you’re the one that got fucked with the most. It made you do something you didn’t want to. It controlled you. That’s worse than…than knowing I’m the reason why it happened.”
“Is it?” Caleb asked.
Molly looked into his eyes. “When you, the love of my life, is the one being controlled? Of course,” he said. “I’m such…I’m such a bloody idiot. Why did I do that?”
“You didn’t know.”
“So what? I should have bloody well known better. And yes, I didn’t know, so I shouldn’t have done it. That’s just common sense. And now you’re suffering—”
“So are you,” Caleb insisted. “Do not disregard your own emotions here.”
Molly shifted backwards, and his horns clanked against the headboard. “This whole thing was fucking awful,” he sighed. “I don’t really know what else to say.”
Caleb nodded. “I can agree with that, schatz.”
“Hopefully it’s over,” Molly sighed. “I don’t know how much more of this uncertainty crap I can take, and you certainly don’t deserve any of this.”
Caleb also leaned back, and rested his head against Molly’s shoulder. “Let’s just hope we’re out of the thick of it, eh?”
Molly gave Caleb a sideways glance. “Do you want me to kiss you until we forget about all of this?”
Caleb closed his eyes. “I have a perfect memory,” he said. “It might take a bit more than kissing.”
------------------------------
Jester munched on a cinnamon roll as she made her way through the hallway towards hers and Fjord’s room, and passed Yasha, sitting stoically on a barstool that should not have been where it was, right outside of Caleb and Molly’s room. Nott sat on the ground beside her. And across the hall, looking pissed off and defeated, sat Beau, arms crossed and slouched against the wall. Jester surveyed the scene in front of her.
“Is this to make sure Caleb doesn’t kill Molly?” she asked.
“Just in case.” nodded Yasha.
“It’s for the best,” said Nott.
“I’m here ‘cause Yasha’s here,” grumbled Beau.
Jester pulled a blueberry muffin out of the haversack. “Do you guys need any snacks?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Yasha.
“Yes,” said Nott.
“Please, god, and some alcohol too,” said Beau.
------------------------------
Molly’s first thought, just after dawn when the excruciating torture of searing pain and blistering heat wracked his exposed chest, was a wretched, drawn-out curse in Infernal—all hellish syllables and snapping anger and the need to viciously lash out.
Molly’s second thought, as he thrust his hands together for a Blood Maledict, was a fucking-gods-not-this-bullshit-again.
Unfortunately, Caleb must have been feeling uncharacteristically strong tonight. The curse seemed to have no effect and Molly was forced to somersault out of bed and scramble for his scimitars. The wizard, meanwhile, had stood up on the sheets and taken an offensive stance, flames curling around his fingers and spellbook open and glowing in his left hand.
“Are you kidding?!” Molly yelled, and activated the ice on his swords with a sweep across his forearm. “I thought you were fine! You were definitely fine before!”
Caleb didn’t respond, instead settling for sending three spheres of fire, another damn Scorching Ray, hurtling towards Molly, who did his best to use the frost-covered blades to catch the brunt of the inferno and hopefully prevent the extremely wooden room from turning into a flaming deathtrap (which would make this all the more difficult, and likely cause Wessick to become rather upset with them). He feverishly scanned his surroundings for anything he could use to subdue Caleb—more blankets or some rope or something—and was just about to give up and bean his lover over the head with a chair when the door slammed open, another recurring theme in the disastrous parade that had been the last two days of Mollymauk Tealeaf’s life.
Beau came barreling in, didn’t even hesitate before leaping onto the bed and swinging her staff against the back of Caleb’s head, which connected with a resounding, sickening crack.
The wizard collapsed onto the sheets like tree in a thunderstorm. He did not move.
“It’s a good thing he’s got smarts to spare,” said Beau, basking in the adrenaline rush, “because that many head injuries in such a short time can’t be great for you. Get the others, Yasha?” this was to the open doorway as Nott scuttled in. “Especially Jester. I think I hit him a bit too hard. And Fjord’ll want to be here for this. It’s time for round two.”
Molly dropped his swords and slumped onto the floor. “I hate my life,” he muttered. “This is garbage.”
Beau nodded sympathetically. “Hey,” she said, “you could’ve pulled the Void card. At least you’ve still got your soul and stuff.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, and looked at the crumpled lump on his bed. “It’s not my soul I’m worried about,” he sighed.
Nott scrambled over to Caleb and gave him a gentle pat on his now-bleeding head. Then she pulled out a length of rope. “I’m real sorry, Caleb,” she said softly, “I’m real sorry about this.”
------------------------------
This time, with Jester actually rested and spell slots restored, they were able to instantly heal Caleb and mend the damage Beau’s staff had—with good intentions—caused. They propped him up against the footboard of the bed, and all sat on the floor in a semi-circle around him. His arms and legs were tied together, and Molly, remembering the dangers of verbal-only spells like Immolate, dejectedly stuffed a cloth into Caleb’s mouth as well. Morning sunlight filtered in through the window, casting the shadow of Caleb's hair over his eyes. He breathed slowly.
“Last time he woke up normal,” Nott said hopefully. “Maybe it’ll be the same.”
“Yes, but last time we let him go and then just now he tried to kill Molly again,” said Fjord with a glance towards said tiefling, shoulders sagged and face an unreadable mask.
“Let’s just wake him up and go from there,” Molly sighed. “And, I don’t know, hit the Archives afterwards.”
“I can at least use Zone of Truth this time,” Jester supplied.
Fjord nodded. “Wake him up,” he said. “Then cast that, and we’ll get to questioning.”
She leaned across the middle of their semicircle and put a hand against Caleb’s chest. Molly, whose own was now heavily bandaged, felt a twang of pain. He tried to ignore it.
After a brief flash of blue light, Caleb gave a muffled groan, stirred, and opened his eyes.
His expression went from bewilderment, to understanding, to resigned frustration in a matter of seconds. He looked down at the ground.
“I’m going to cast Zone of Truth,” Jester said softly. “Don’t resist, okay? And then we’ll take the gag out.”
Caleb shrugged. She took this as a yes, muttered a few words, and suddenly the room was awash in a silver radiance that faded after a few seconds. Jester opened her eyes, now glowing slightly.
“Fjord and Nott, you shouldn’t resist either,” she chided. “We’ve got to be honest now.”
They both nodded sheepishly. Jester gave them warm smiles, and after a second, motioned her hands in an alright, go on sort of gesture.
Yasha reached over and pulled the gag from Caleb’s mouth. He made a face, and spluttered slightly, but made no move to cast any magic. Mollified, the Nein relaxed slightly. Slightly.
“Caleb?” Fjord asked. “Do you know what’s going on?”
He sighed. “I have a rather good idea,” he said. “I attacked Mollymauk again?”
“Yes,” said Fjord.
Caleb’s gaze moved towards Molly. “Did I hurt you?”
The answer was on the tip of Molly’s tongue, but he managed to bite it back. Unfortunately, the silence was indication enough, and Caleb swore.
“Caleb, do you want to kill Molly?” Nott asked. “Are you mad at him, or are you under a spell?”
“I do not want to kill him, spatz,” Caleb said dejectedly. “I am not mad at him, well, I suppose I am a little upset with him for pulling that card, but not mad enough to want to kill him. And my best guess would be that yes, I am under a spell, but either I cannot know that I am, or currently the magic is not affecting me.”
“Yesterday, after Jester knocked you out and you woke up with Yasha and Nott watching you,” asked Beau, “were you faking normal-ness, and were actually plotting to hurt Molly, or were you genuinely confused?”
“Genuine,” said Caleb. “I was not lying, then. I did not have any ill intention towards Mollymauk. I did not wish to harm him in any way, and I currently do not either.”
“What’s the last thing you remember before all this?” she asked.
“Going to bed for the night,” Caleb said.
“Anything particular you think you should mention about that?”
“Nein,” he said, “it was normal. Nothing was different.”
“Did you two have sex before?” Jester asked.
“Yes,” said Molly, at the same time Caleb reddened and bit his tongue. Fjord gave Jester a strange look.
“Now, why is that a relevant question?”
She shrugged. “Maybe that’s part of the curse. I don’t know, all the cards are weird and specific. I was just covering the bases.”
Yasha looked at Caleb. “Do you feel strange at all, in any way, right now?”
He shook his head, and looked at the rest with a bitter smile. “I do not feel strange in what I believe is the way you are asking, but after knowing that two nights in a row I attacked my Lebensgefährte, I certainly cannot say that all is right with me.”
“Well,” Nott tried, “well at least we know that you aren’t doing any of this on purpose. It’s defintiely something else causing it.”
Caleb wrung his hands. “But what is the point, even?” he asked. “Fault or not, it is still happening, and I cannot be trusted alone anymore. I am hurting my loved ones, all over again, and there is nothing on this gottsverdammt plane I can do about it. We have no information, and no way to fix me.”
Beau, completely out of her depth, tried optimism. “I can go to the library and try to find stuff out there?”
He hung his head. “And if that fails? If we find no answers?”
“Um…” Jester slowly raised her hand. “What if…what if we tried asking the Gentleman?”
There was silence as the group considered this.
“I fuckin’ love that guy’s style,” said Beau, “but I’m not sure this is something we should bring up around him. Especially if he figures out we’ve got a deck.”
“We don’t have any other leads, though,” said Nott, giving a quick glance over to Caleb. “And I want this to be over with.”
Caleb gave a short laugh, still staring at the floorboards, and nodded. “I would as well.”
Molly felt wretched. “If you think there’s even a chance the Gentleman might know what’s going on, I say we risk it. This…this all is my fault. I pulled one of those damn cards even when I shouldn’t have, and now…something’s happened and we don’t even know what.”
“I agree,” said Yasha. “I am willing to go and speak with him.”
“Why don’t you and Nott actually keep staying here,” Fjord suggested with an apologetic look at Caleb that the wizard missed completely, “just in case something changes. The rest of us can go and see what he knows.”
“I’ll head over to the Archive while you’re there,” said Beau. “Caleb, I know you’d usually want to come, but…”
“I will stay here,” the wizard sighed bitterly. “I do not trust myself at the moment either.”
Nott gave him a pat on the hand, and he sighed again.
“I’m sorry,” murmured Molly, not knowing what else to say. “I…I promise, we’ll fix this. I promise. We’ll figure out what’s going on, and…and we’ll fix this.”
Caleb looked up. His eyes were red. “I believe you,” he said quietly. “But please hurry. I do not know how much more of this I can take.”
Molly reached out a hand, but drew it back when Caleb winced. His chest ached.
“Verzeihung,” Caleb whispered, “but maybe it is best we stay away from one another for now. I do not…I do not wish to hurt you.”
I’m hurting you, though, Molly wanted to say. Instead he gave a small, not-very reassuring smile. “I’ll be back in a flash, dear,” he promised. “With answers. I swear it.”
And with that, they left Nott and Yasha sitting in the room with Caleb, wrists still bound, gently scritching the back of Frumpkin���s ears.
------------------------------
“Alright,” said Fjord, tone hushed, “let me do the talking, please? You-know-who is the craftiest sonofabitch we’ve ever met, and I don’t want him catchin’ wind of what we’ve got, alright?”
Molly and Jester nodded. Then they all descended the stairs.
------------------------------
The bustling underbelly of the Evening Nip came into view, lowly-lit and rife with riffraff as always. There was a halfling man tending bar for a group of men and women in leathers, the band had struck up a cheerful, jaunting tune, and the jingling sound of a swinging chandelier meant that Dweez, the mad gnome, was making his usual rounds. And seated at a table in a shaded corner just next to the stairs was a familiar black Tabaxi, nursing a flagon of ale. She looked up as they entered, and a delighted smile appeared across her face.
“Nonagon!” Cree called, and made her way over. Her lime-green eyes glinted in the low torchlight, and she instantly swept Molly up into a hug that he returned somewhat awkwardly.
When they pulled away, she clasped her hands on his shoulders and gave him a good once-over. “Still trying out long hair and flashy tattoos, eh?” she asked jovially. “Not sure it completely suits you, but you’ve always known what’s best, Nonagon.”
Molly matched her cheerful smile. “Thank you, Cree,” he said. “I’ve grown rather fond of this appearance, thankfully, since tattoos aren’t always that easy to remove.”
“Ah, I could always point you out to a few other clerics that wouldn’t mind helping you out there, if you ever change your mind. You’re still over at the Leaky Tap, right? I heard there were strange incidents there, two nights in a row. Are you alright?”
Molly smiled. “Of course, of course. We can handle ourselves. How’d you hear about that? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Ah,” Cree winked, and one of her eyes completely vanished in her dark fur. “The Gentleman has ears everywhere. And it’s always news when something happens at the favorite tavern of the Mighty Nein.”
“Sometimes we stay at the Pillow Trove,” supplied Jester, “when we’re feeling fancy.”
“And when we’re feeling like we need a good time, we come here to visit the Gentleman,” smiled Fjord, drawing the conversation back. “Is he here now?”
“Oh, yes,” said Cree. “He’s at the head table right now, I’m sure you’d be able to go up and talk to him.”
“Thank you,” Fjord said, and started to make his way over. Jester trailed behind him and Molly went to follow, but before he could step away, a fur-covered hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” Cree asked. “I worry about you, Lucien. I thought…I thought you would reach out to the rest of the Tomb Takers by now, but it has been quite some time since we originally spoke. Is the plan still in motion? Is everything going accordingly?”
Molly cranked the bullshit up to 110%. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “And don’t worry, alright? You’d be the first to know if anything changed. Trust me. I’ve got everything under control.”
She released her grip. “If you say so,” she said softly. “I always trust you, Lucien.”
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate that.”
And as he walked back with the others, over his shoulder he could hear Cree call, “Give my regards to your other companions! That tall one, and that scruffy wizard. Charming fellow.”
And Molly turned around to smile and thank her, but she had vanished into the crowd.
------------------------------
“Actually,” said the Gentleman, leaning in closer. “I believe I do know a small amount about this object you are seeking.”
“That’s wonderful news,” said Fjord with a small smile. “We really only heard rumors, and were wondering if such a thing exists in the world.”
“But I can’t imagine this is common chatter, even for accomplished adventurers such as yourselves,” said the Gentleman. “Wherever did you hear these rumors?”
Fjord shrugged. “I can’t seem to recall, at the moment,” he said regretfully, “but I’m sure if we were looking to trade a bit of information, I could think long and hard on it, and remember eventually.”
The Gentleman laughed, and clapped his hands. “Excellent spirit!” he announced. “I will tell you the names of three cards said to exist in the deck, and in exchange, you’ll tell me who let you in on the existence of these items. Fair?”
“Incredibly fair,” agreed Fjord, and shook the man’s hand. He restrained himself from wiping the strange water off of his fingers afterwards.
“The first card I know of,” the Gentleman began, and Jester yanked out her journal and began to write, “is referred to as ‘the Knight.’ It summons a fighter to your service, who will follow you loyally until their death.”
“Until…their…death,” she repeated, and looked up expectantly.
“The next card is the Sun. It improves all of your skills, as if you had faced a year’s worth of battles, and grants you a wondrous magical item. And the last card, the Vizier, allows you to ask a question in meditation within one year of drawing it, and you will receive a truthful answer, or the gift of wisdom, in regards to your question.”
He leaned back and folded his fingers. “And the name?” he prompted.
“The enchanter, over at the Invulnerable Vagrant,” Fjord said. “But you’d best be careful around him. He’s a powerful man, and a friend to the Assembly.”
The Gentleman nodded, and beamed. “Thank you,” he said smoothly. “I hope this information helps you. And swing by, if you ever find one of these decks. I’d be willing to pay a handsome, handsome sum for them. And you would win quite a bit more of my favor than you already possess, which would come more in handy than gold or fame.”
Fjord nodded. “Thank you for your time,” he said, standing up, “and for that generous offer.”
------------------------------
“Guten morgen,” said Caleb, enunciating carefully.
“Gu-ten, mor-gen,” Nott repeated, brow furrowing slightly in concentration. “Was that better?”
"It was excellent."
“I thought they sounded exactly the same,” said Yasha, working a polish into her greatsword. “You are like a natural, Nott.”
The goblin beamed, and Caleb allowed himself a small smile.
“Now that you have mastered Zemnian, we should try Celestial,” said Yasha. “I am sure with two teachers it will be much better.”
“Ja,” shrugged Caleb hands still bound. “I have nothing else to do. Nott, how is your singing voice?”
------------------------------
Among the towering shelves of the near-silent Archive, curved walls and mile-high bookshelves filled with the knowledge of the ages, home now to only the muted shuffling of paper, light footsteps of the monks, and softly scratching quills of scribes and scholars, a glorious institution of the keeping of knowledge and the worshipping of the Knowing Mistress, Beauregard the sometimes-monk kicked her chair over in excitement, leapt onto the desk, and screamed, to the complete and utter shock and horror of the other Archive-browsers, and the other monks, who painfully noted she was wearing their uniform and unfortunately therefore a member of their order.
She punched a fist into the air. “I’m a golden god!” she yelled. “I’m the best damn monk in the world!”
She made eye contact with a scribe, cowering in his chair.
“Quick, give me your paper,” she said hurriedly, “and some ink, quickly, before the stupid, uptight novices kick me out.”
------------------------------
“The Deck of Many Things,” read Beau, standing on a chair in Caleb and Molly’s room, as the rest of the Nein watched on with equal parts exasperation, equal parts anticipation, Caleb hanging onto her words like a lifeline.
“Usually found in a box or leather pouch, each deck contains a number of cards engraved with glyphs, characters, and sigils. Long sought after by all from the lowliest beggar, to the richest of kings, these cards hold the power to destroy lives or forge new destinies of wealth, power, and fame. Our party stumbled across one such item last spring, and only now have we gathered the courage to draw one…”
She trailed off, skimming through the rest of the copied notes. “Basically, at that point, the Wizard pulled one out, the Key, and all of a sudden a magical glaive appeared in his hand and everybody started freaking the fuck out. And then the Barbarian got jealous, and grabbed the deck, he also got a magical weapon when he pulled the Sun, and the author was like ‘fuck it,’ I want one too, and guess what he pulled.”
“Rogue?” Jester asked.
“Exactly.”
“So what happened?” Nott asked, tapping impatiently on her knee. “What did Rogue do?”
“At first? Absolutely nothing. They were disappointed, and the whole party just sort of gave up and stopped drawing cards. But the author was worried, ‘cause he was a bard, and he’d heard of these before, and he knew that each card did something, and it was suspicious that this one didn’t seem to do anything. And then the journal just sort of goes on on for a long time talking about the rest of their adventures or whatever.”
“So we still have nothing?” Disappointment weighed heavy on Caleb’s face.
“Oh, we've got plenty,” said Beau, and pulled another piece of paper out of her pocket. “A year later, their adventuring group decided to part ways for a little while and relax. The bard went back to his hometown to visit his parents and his siblings, and that night, when he was in bed, his mother appeared at the door. He didn’t move, because he figured she was just checking in on him, but then suddenly she strode over to his bed and stabbed him through the hip.”
“Motherfucker,” said Fjord, and blinked. “Gods, was he alright?”
“He wrote the book,” said Beau, rolling her eyes, “of course he was alright. Otherwise I wouldn’t be reading this.”
Jester gave Fjord a pat on his shoulder, and he sighed.
“What happened then?” Molly asked. “What happened after that?”
“He managed to hold her off, since he was a powerful bard or whatever, and told the rest of his family what had happened, and realized that finally, finally the Rogue card must have shown its effects. And his father was a very pious man who loved his wife, and the town’s cleric to the Dawnfather, so he prayed to his god, and apparently the Dawnfather told him that she had been cursed for almost a year now, from the card. But that because of the father’s decades of loyal service and shit, he would lift the curse from her. And that was the end of it.”
“So we must go to a god, then, and ask for answers?” Caleb asked.
Yasha shifted uncomfortably. “None of us but Beau worship…legal gods, in these lands. There is no temple to the Stormlord we could visit, or to the Moonweaver, or to the Traveler. And Beau, you are not exactly the most devoted follower of the Knowing Mistress.”
“I honestly forgot you were affiliated,” Molly mused.
“I think she frequently forgets that also.”
Beau scowled. “I don’t really buy into religion like that,” she said. “I’m a free agent. Usually.”
“And I could still try praying to the Traveler,” Jester suggested. “He is very powerful, you never know.”
“Are gods the only way out of it?” Fjord asked. “Are we certain?”
Beau waved her page of notes. “There is another way, the author finds out later, where a wish spell can also reverse the effects of Rogue. Which, in case it wasn’t clear, are where somebody is permanently turned against you.”
Caleb frowned. “But I am not turned permanently against Mollymauk,” he said. “You all know, we proved it with Zone of Truth. Right now I am fine.”
Nott nodded. “Yeah, it’s not always. Just in the mornings, apparently.”
“I will ask the Traveler tonight,” Jester said. “I am sure he will have answers for us.”
Molly fidgeted with his sleeve. “We could…we could also try pulling another card,” he said slowly. “We know there’s one that grants wishes, we’d just—”
“Nein,” said Caleb sternly. “No chance. There are still twelve cards in that deck, and there is only one of that card. And given the horrible things that the other ones do, I will not let you take that risk.”
“But you’re cursed,” snapped Molly, more harshly than he’d intended. “You keep trying to kill me, two mornings in a row, now, and there’s nothing else we can do about it! I don’t want you to hurt like this! I know it’s destroying you to not be in control of your own actions, and to be forced to do this, so fuck the bloody risks and let me help you! I hate seeing you like this! Especially because it was my damn fault!"
Molly stared at him, breathing heavily. Caleb looked down at the floorboards.
“This is already bad enough,” he said softly. “If I lost you as well, it would be unbearable.”
Molly instantly felt terrible. “I…fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
The rest of the party looked around the room awkwardly.
“Should we…um…should we leave you two alone, then?” Fjord suggested.
“No,” said Caleb resignedly, “no, I still need to be watched over. But if somebody could fetch me a book, that would be nice.”
“I’ll do that,” said Nott, and scuttled out of the room.
“I’m gonna go back to the Archive and research wish spells now,” said Beau. “Fjord, wanna come?”
He nodded. “Yasha, and Nott when she gets back, you two okay with staying on…on…Caleb-duty?”
“Yes,” said Yasha. “I can use this time to see if the Stormlord is listening. And we are still in the middle of Celestial lessons with Nott. Her singing is enthusiastic, but not very good.”
Molly gave Caleb a wretched look. “I…would you like me to stay?”
“I would,” he said with a bitter smile, “but it is probably safer that you did not.”
Molly nodded. “I’ll come back in a few hours,” he said, and turned to Jester. “Want to…I don’t know, want to find some pastries with me?”
She took his hand gently. “I know a great place,” she said.
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Text
Open Your Mind To The Unknown.
Request from anon: Can I request an avengers x reader where she's very young like 18-20 physically but she's actually a few 100 years old and a vampire? Fury assigns her as added protection for Barton's family but he's unsure of her because of what she is. He finds his family actually adores her and she's very loving and gentle with his kids. She only drinks animal blood and rarely human unless they are deemed a threat to the family.
Note: I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you all like reading it just as much. It was a completely different kind of idea and so the way I wrote it is, fingers crossed, hopefully how anon had it in their mind :)
Clint Barton x Vampire!Reader
Words: 1,986
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3
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“Sorry could you just repeat what you said….” The expression on Clint’s face as he sat in the briefing room with the rest of The Avengers was one of sheer astonishment as he turned his attention to Tony. “…I must have been concussed in the last mission because I could have sworn you just said that there was going to be a goddamn vampire looking after my family.”
“I checked you over in the infirmary…..you’re not concussed.”
Bruce’s voice was like that of a nervous child as he put this out into the open – he was fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, the tension that was slowly beginning to build up inside the room making him a little more nervous than usual. Clint shot him a glare before throwing his chair backwards and standing himself up straight.
“Then obviously you have given me some kind of hallucinogenic drug because I am hearing insane things coming out of Stark’s mouth here.”
The doctor shook his head but refused to speak out this time, unsure of how Clint would react if he did.
“She is more capable of protecting your family than all of us put together and with the sudden influx of HYDRA compounds being located the team is going to be away more and more…..she is the best chance you have at keeping your family safe and it has come down from Fury himself.”
“SHE DRINKS BLOOD FOR CHRISTS SAKE TONY!”
The archer’s face turned a deep red colour as his voice boomed throughout the whole room causing Nat to move towards him and place a hand onto his shoulder. Had it been anyone else it would have quickly been shrugged off but the redhead had always had a calming effect on him and although he was still angry he didn’t lunge for Tony which had been one of the plans of action running through his mind.
“Calm yourself down Robin Hood. Argue all you want as it’s been put into place already. [y/n] has been introduced to your family along with a couple of agents and she is at your home now.”
“Don’t know why you’re complaining anyway Barton….most I have ever seen of a vampire is in a moving picture. I think it’s awesome you’re going to have one in your home.”
Bucky’s low voice broke into the conversation but Steve swiftly extended his leg out underneath the table so that his foot connected with the brunette’s shin and the pain that followed was enough to stop him from saying anything else to make the situation worse.
“Yeah laugh it up all of you! Just remember who it is that covers your arses when you’re running into the firing line.” Taking his eyes away from all of them he rested them back onto Tony as he pointed a finger at him aggressively. “You better hope that bloodsucker doesn’t turn on my family Tony because if she does I will be coming after you.”
                                              * * * * * * * * * *
Clint stood in the doorway of  his home waiting for you to arrive before he headed off for a mission; even now a couple of weeks into you being assigned as his family’s protection he was still very unsure about you. This much was clear when his whole body language changed as you made your way across the grass to his family home, he didn’t need to be anywhere near you to notice the spot of blood tugged away in the corner of your lips.
“Which pour soul did you drink from today then?”
His voice was cold and his eyes were narrowed into slits as he looked you up and down like you were nothing but a disgusting mess to him. You didn’t let it get to you though….you had received judgement off those who weren’t the same as you for over a century so the words of this petty little man didn’t faze you at all.
“I put an injured deer out of its misery actually. You already know, Mr Barton, that I feed off animals. Never a human unless they are a threat.”
“Do you see me as a threat?”
He had stepped up to you so close that, had you been alive, you probably would have felt his breath cruising over your pale skin. It was actually quite amusing that he thought he could try and intimidate you but you made sure you didn’t let this show on your face…the man was angry enough as it was.
“Far from it. I see you as a man who refuses to have an open mind about the things that are right in front of him. You accepted aliens pouring through the sky, Gods that were once believed to simply be myths appear in person, and yet when it comes to someone such as myself you have one opinion and that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah well I have seen and read enough t-“
“Movies and books aren’t exactly known to offer factual information on my kind.”
He was about to say something else, no doubt a snarky remark, but he was cut short when his young daughter came running out of the front door and careered towards you.
“[y/n!]” She only reached your waist height wise so you found yourself having to bend at your knees ever so slightly to return the embrace she threw around you. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t coming.”
Despite the fact that you were over 100 years old your appearance was that of someone who was no more than 18 , a trait of which had proved to come in useful when communicating with others. Especially when it came to young children. Clint’s son and daughter saw you as more of an older sister than anything else which mean you earned their trust pretty quickly.
Something of which you were still yet to achieve with Clint himself.
“Oh sweetheart you must believe me when I say that I will always be here for you and your brother. You two mean more to me than you could ever know.”
The young girl smiled up at you with the sweetest smile you had ever seen on another living being before and immediately you swooped her up into your arms fully so that her feet were off the ground.
“Look at me daddy! I’m flying like your friend Thor!”
The serious archer let a laugh escape his lips as he watched the smile growing ever larger on his daughter’s face. The only other person that managed to get such a reaction out of her (besides him and his wife Laura of course) was Natasha. His mind was beginning to reveal to him that he may have judged the being before him far too quickly but before a single word could leave his lips he noticed your eyes widen ever so slightly before your whole body tensed.
“Lila run inside to Cooper and your mother. Me and your father will be in shortly okay? I’ll have a special surprise waiting for you.”
“I love you [y/n]!” The young girl jumped up and down excitedly as you gently placed a hand onto her soft cheek.
“I love you too my precious Lila now run along.”
She did as she was told and as soon as the front door clicked shut your eyes turned into two black holes as your fangs made an appearance. The veins around your eyes protruded slightly as a rather nasty growl escaped your lips.
“There’s five of those murderous HYDRA agents currently surrounding your home. From what I can hear they have no idea either one of us is here.”
To say he was shocked at seeing the transformation with his very eyes was quite the understatement; in fact this was probably the first time in his life that the archer was actually genuinely terrified. A part of him was convinced that it was you he should have been shooting an arrow at right now…..no one else.
Without another word you disappeared from his view and then before he even had time to blink you reappeared before him with two of the agents, both being gripped by the neck with each of your hands, you took one look at Clint before opening your mouth and slamming your fangs down into one of the agents, making swift work of him, before then repeating your actions with the second.
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Both bodies fell to the floor in front of you in lifeless heaps and you didn’t even bother to wipe the blood from your lips to make him feel more at ease.
Then a foreign sound hit your ears, one that Clint himself or any other human for that matter wouldn’t have heard, and it was that of something small yet sharp heading towards the man whose family you were trying to protect. It came just millimetres away from puncturing the skin of his neck when your thumb and forefinger stopped it in its tracks.
Clint barely had any time to register what had just happened when he saw an agent heading straight for your back with a large knife, pushing you away he swiftly pulled out both his bow and one of his arrows and within seconds the threatening male had been pierced straight through the heart.
That’s when the two of you finally met gazes and for the first time you had a mutual understanding. To do what was needed to be done.
“Kill the other two [y/n].”
Almost as though you had been waiting for his permission the whole time you ran off at super human speed and ravaged the throats of the two men that were left until their kicking and screaming stopped and their bodies slumped to the ground.
                                                   * * * * * * * * * *
It was all over. All the HYDRA agents had been taken down, the family were safe, and when you could finally retreat from your predatory form you took in a large gasp of air as the whole fight finally caught up with you. Your thought process never worked all that logically when you were in your vampire form because the only thing that mattered was taking down whatever threat was nearby, so when that side of you was no longer needed that was when you felt the pain of what you had just done.
“[y/n]?”
It was Clint. You knew from the calm beating of his heart that he had already checked on his loved ones. You were sat on the back porch, eyes casting themselves over the final two agents you had taken out, you knew it had needed to be done but at the same time you wondered who it was they had left behind. A wife? Children? Siblings? It was a vicious thought cycle you found yourself in each and every time you took a human life and you hated it…..it came very close to making you lose your mind completely….but when a gentle hand came down to rest on your shoulder you were pulled out of it.
No longer were your thoughts about the men you had just killed but about the one who had hated you so much for being here. Now when you looked into his eyes you saw what you knew to be gratitude. He may not have been able to fully accept you for what you were but tonight had shown him that not only would you do anything to protect his family but that, by the look in your eyes as you looked over your victims, you weren’t a cold-blooded killer….
….You had just as much emotion as he and the other Avengers did when they had to eliminate someone.
He had finally come to realise that you really were the right one to look after his family while he was gone.
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