#to be clear I think beau being kidnapped was there from the word go

[stardustedknuckles]

Sheer speculation, but I do actually think it was a late-game realization for Matt that he had backed the Soul into a corner with regards to Beau’s kidnapping, like. I do not think he had the overall integrity of the Soul planned from the word go. I also think it does not matter because it was very clear his intentions with the Soul by the end and when he put together the implications that came with the violence of Beau being dragged away he set it right as the Soul would have. Yes I think it was a “patch,” no I don’t think it cheapens the story even a little. There is a very good chance that initially the Soul was meant to mirror the Assembly in some ways - people with good intentions and evil and everything in between, people harmful to others but helpful to the Nein, people harmful to a single member of the Nein but overall aligned in the same directions even if for selfish reasons. And at some point the story needed the Soul to be more. Beau’s story specifically needed it. They didn’t need to be perfect, just accountable for their own - willing and determined to always be better. I think it still takes a hell of a storyteller to spot that need and fulfill it, late game or no. It is especially masterful to change the weave of a story around a specific character in a way that makes sense and in some ways brings their arc home. Beau was comfortable mistrusting the Soul as an institution, and that had to change if she was going to find real purpose as an Expositor.

(I've been informed that Matt talks about this a bit himself and maybe I'll even watch it, but also I do get a little tired of "well in the OTHER one hundred-plus hours of content, they said...")

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Bruno squad headcanons perhaps :0?

Yandere Team Buccelati

Content Warnings: Yandere behaviour, stalking, abduction

A/N: Apologies, but I've decided that I'm not really comfortable writing under 18s as yandere characters, so I'll just be doing Buccialati, Abbacchio and Mista for this one. Extra warning that this is really bad (I'm particularly not happy with Mista's section) because I wrote this late at night and didn't know what I was saying as I wrote it, so double apologies for that.

Bruno Buccelati

In spite of his occupation, Bruno has no qualms befriending the civilian population of Naples and doing good for them. He holds a profound pity for the victims of organised crime, and is eager to help where he can. So when you approach him on the street, asking for help with ridding yourself of a creepy stranger who had made it his business to follow and harass you, Bruno is quick to ensure your would-be stalker never looks your way again.

Although Bruno saw to it that you were escorted home safely, he can't help but feel some well-intentioned worry for your well-being over the coming days. He checks in on you again, which you find to be very sweet, but as the days pass by again his worry returns. Continuing to visit you would seem odd, he knows, but surely there's no harm in asking Narancia to check through your window once in a while?

At first it really is just concern for your safety, but after a while, Bruno is forced to accept that he is genuinely infatuated with you. His feelings are far too strong to simply sweep under the rug, and approaching you the normal way could put you in danger, provided it even works. He isn't going to kidnap you, that would leave him no better than the thugs he chases off of the streets, but to make you his he's going to resort to something unorthodox.

Bruno makes a few preparations. He does a few favours for your friends and family- gotta make sure they're on his side, He also checks his intel into the area's rival street gangs, since it can't hurt to have a hint of truth to the story he's going to tell. Then, armed with a few empty suitcases and a fake look of concern, he heads to your house late one night.

He announces to you that one of the rival gangs in the area has singled you out as a target for trafficking, and because of your previous interactions with him, they're dead set on taking you. Bruno assures you not to worry and helps you pack away your things, promising that you will be safe in his care while the issue with the gang is sorted out. You'll be staying in his house, of course. It's best he's right on call in case anyone tries to come after you.

Your new life in Bruno's house is a strange one. You cannot leave the house of course, except for the occasional short trip with him or his men to stop your mental health from suffering, but your internet access is unrestricted, you can call your family as much as you want, and you're allowed to buy anything you'd like with your money (or better, have him buy it for you). You have your own room, but Bruno often asks to come in and sit with you late at night. It's all for your comfort, of course.

After a couple of months, Bruno's excuses to keep you longer will start to run out as you start to wonder why he hasn't eliminated the street gang yet. The hope is that by this point, you would have already fallen for Bruno's charm and started to love him, but barring this, he'll simply buy more time by making up more reasons why it's unsafe for you to go home.

But, if all else fails, and you begin to insist on leaving... well, Bruno didn't want to do this, but he can't just let you go. You're locked in your room, windows barred as Bruno explains to you calmly that this is all for your own good. You can come out any time you want, Amore. All you have to do is promise to stay.

Leone Abbacchio

Despite his occasionally cold demeanour, Abbacchio is no stranger to the want for companionship and affection. In fact, it's fair to say he needs it, and that going so long without tenderness has left him empty, miserable and disillusioned. But it's only a matter of time before somebody reawakens his need for warmth.

Both of you were having a bad day. You were downtrodden and lamentful, and as sad people tend to do together, you shared your angsts together as you sat at the bus stop, neither of you caring that this was the first time you'd even seen each other.

Abbacchio does not want the conversation to end. So when the bus arrives, he gets a ticket to your stop instead, and sits with you, continuing to talk. He is sad when you say goodbye. He knows he needs to see you again. He thinks nothing of lingering to see which street you turn onto as you walk home.

Abbacchio gets to work right away. He needs to have you, but cannot see you ever falling for someone like him. Not through normal means instead. His thoughts turn to abduction, but the image of you begging and crying as he drags you to his car saddens him. He knows he could never hurt you that badly. He needs to find a half-way point, between force and natural love.

The first thing he does, once his mind is made up, is go to your boss. Using Passione's name, he quickly convinces them to fire you without any question as to why. It is a similar story with your landlord a few days later. Any friends or relatives who might take you in are also sent a warning phone-call.

You know full-well what has happened. You knew at the time your one-time companion on the bus was a mafioso, his story made that clear. You beat yourself up every minute for not avoiding him then and there. And now, as misfortune after misfortune strikes you, everyone who bears you bad news has the same white-haired stranger to speak of. When, on your first night on the streets, a tall figure approaches you from the black car, you do not feel any surprise.

Both you and Abbacchio know what he is here for, so he does not explain much. He sombrely instructs you to get in the car if you don't want to be stuck on the streets any longer, promising that he will not do you any harm if you comply. He has already struck out every other option for possibly helping yourself. You have little choice but to go with him.

You do not expect much when you arrive at Abbacchio's house, but instead you find all your old possessions lined up for you to decorate your room with. After quickly explaining where the bathroom is and which foods from the kitchen are free for taking, he goes to bed, advising that you do the same. You are completely, and utterly perplexed.

Abbacchio forces little conversation on you in the early weeks. Most of the time, he is out doing work, leaving you with free reign of his house. Soon, you do not feel at all as though you were forced to be here. You dare say your life is better here than it was before. Abbacchio's friends occasionally visit, making sure that Leone isn't mistreating you and you're fully happy here. Eventually, Abbacchio relents to letting you reopen communications with your friends. You cannot say you have anything to complain about.

The only question, is what Abbacchio ever wanted from you. It's so strange how he went to all these lengths to take you only to largely ignore you. The truth is, he's waiting for you to open up to him of your own free will. As he lies in bed alone at night, he dreams of you coming into his room, asking if he can hold you for a minute.

Mista

Guido Mista has dated a few times in the past, and he isn't interested in letting Passione stop him from continuing. It doesn't matter how you met him, just that after a few encounters you began to date, and were very happy with your new beau. You worked well together, what else is there to say?

But after your second date, Buccialati received word of your existence and was concerned. He isn't exactly going to force you to stop dating, Mista is an adult after all and can do as he pleases. But Buccelati wants to make sure you know what you're getting into.

Paying you a visit, Buccelati explains to you that your new boyfriend is involved with the mafia, and continuing to see him will involve certain risks. He is happy for you to take these risks, so long as you are aware of their existence. You thank him for him time, and immediately proceed to shut off all communication with Mista without explanation.

After a brief shouting match with Buccelati once Mista realises what he's done, he marches over to your house to plead with you to take him back. You stand your ground, that Mista lied to you and you refuse to be involved with criminals, but Mista isn't giving up.

The argument escalates. You slam the door in his face. Mista goes home and despairs. You were the best he's ever had, and now he's supposed to accept that you're just... gone?! No... all you need is a little more time. Mista turns right around and heads back to your house. This time, he isn't letting up for anything.

It goes much further than he intended. In a split-moment of instinct, Mista draws his gun and threatens you into letting him in. He really didn't mean to scare you like that, but his emotions are running high right now and he doesn't know how else to make you listen.

So, here you are now, a hostage in your own home, because your barely boyfriend couldn't let you go. In the ultimatum the two of you made after he threatened you, you ended up agreeing not to leave the house at all for the time since he was scared you'd try to run.

Mista doesn't stay with you all the time, but he visits you daily to bring you things and try to repair the relationship. To his credit, he hasn't threatened you at all since the initial incident and seems to regret it intently, but forgiving him is difficult after what he did.

Your commitments are mysteriously all taken care of, your boss inexplicably granting you a long period of furlough at full pay. Buccelati wasn't kidding when he said the group Mista was part of was powerful. You shudder to think of what else he could do.

[soukokuwu]

what if chu's s/o escapes port mafia, leaving chuuya to think she left him like dazai did (but in reality, she was pregnant & didn't want the child to grow up in PM. though she has taken extra measures so her son will not be endangered, PM still managed to kidnap him and hold him hostage in exchange for her to come back to their ranks. it is when she comes to save their son that chu discovers that the child is his. you do your own take if you want, your writing, your choice! 💓💓

HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARDS.      genre. hmmm,, i guess it’s fluffy      synopsis. you reveal a secret you’ve kept to yourself for so long, it’s time you finally come clean.      word count. 2,680      author notes. hi, thank you this was an interesting request, i tried not to make it too long. & i usually don’t put so much dialogue (if at all XD) so i hope you can still enjoy this <33

PRESENT.

“Boss, the VIPs are here to see you, they’re being held down at the lobby. Do you want to send them up here?”

The chair swirls around, revealing the man behind the table, a picture of perfect composure. A curt nod is all it takes for the goon to leave the room, ready to escort the guests up.

Once the doors are closed again, he puts the cigarette out on his ashtray, exhaling that last puff of smoke. Gloved fingers intertwine together as he ponders long and hard about how he should greet them later.

The man eyes the drawer under his table, the bottom leftmost one — the special drawer. He opens it languidly to unveil a stash of letters, too many to count at one glance. That’s not surprising though. After all, it’s twelve years’ worth of letters. He grabs the top one, beady eyes glossing over its contents. He folds it back along the same lines.

They all look the same. Made out to him, but with no return address.

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

“They found someone at the house. We have him right now.”

The man on the other line seems to still have something to say, but the redhead doesn’t allow him. It’s a matter that can’t wait.

“Keep him there, make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Chuuya leaves the rest of the torturing to his colleagues as he exits the premises. He recalls what his subordinate reported earlier. ‘Him’? He scoffs. It’s been six years since you left the mafia and basically vanished into thin air. Which is a considerably long time, but Chuuya still can’t wrap the possibility around there being a new guy in your life.

Besides, the redhead didn’t do anything wrong. Why did you have to leave without a word? Why did you feel the need to leave at all, even? It couldn’t be stress. No way. You worked at the Port Mafia casino, yes. You were in charge of it all, and it did anything but stress you out. You loved working there. You loved the gamble. You absolutely revelled in the risk.

They put you in charge of the casino for more reasons than one. You were very calculative, very meticulous. You always had your moves planned out beforehand and you were always able to tell your opponents’ hand without even having to cheat. The gambling was definitely one of the reasons why you were so good at manipulating people. It was also one of the reasons why even Mori asked for your help in some cases.

But your best quality as a mafioso?

Your unpredictability. Or, as Mori dubbed it, your insanity. In both gambling and in general. You had helped the mafia win favours over more than just a few officials by winning against them — be it in poker or any other games. You weren’t even below playing russian roulette. Sure, Chuuya had been worried at first, but after a while it was pretty clear you’d always make it out of it safe — was it luck or was it pure calculation, or a mixture of both perhaps? Chuuya doesn’t really question it. And when it came to planning missions, your unconventional methods always helped, because no one would ever see it coming.

That blew up in his face though. You left him without any clues pertaining to your whereabouts or why you left in the first place. He thought you left along with his ex-partner, that maybe it had something to do with him. But it was apparent that wasn’t the case. Not when you didn’t surface at all even when Dazai did. He couldn’t help but keep thinking of potential things that happened to you. Did you leave because you met someone else? Doubtful. But given how long it’s been, it’s certainly not out of the question that you already did meet someone else by now.

You’re beautiful, smart, fun. You’re everything anyone could wish for. You’re so understanding that sometimes Chuuya questions where you get your patience from. You were just perfect, in every sense of the word.

Chuuya groans just thinking of everything. Even after being kicked to the curb, why is it that now he is still attracted to you? Lucky he was, though. Because that’s the only reason he agreed with Mori’s plan to put all efforts into seeking you out. You were incredibly elusive, and a pain in the ass because of that. And had it not been for a certain intense war against an enemy organisation, they would’ve let you go on with your life, wherever you ended up. You’ve been very quiet, not spreading anything about the mafia, or else Mori would’ve picked up on it. Very well-behaved, and a pardon would’ve been your reward.

But even the best needs help sometimes. And Mori specifically wants yours. He probably figured Chuuya was the biggest factor that would tilt things in their favour, and he agrees. Which is why he heads this mission in the first place. Not only is he the biggest shot at getting you back, but he wants to see you. Wants to know exactly why you left him the way you did.

Closure. He wants closure.

Life is funny though. Because he ends up with more questions than answers when he opens the door to his office.

Suddenly all the idle chatter he passes by in the hallway makes sense. The ones that just skip past his ears because he’s too deep in thought about you. He remembers the gist of them though. Things like “he’s so cute, like a model,” and “right? I think he looks handsome” (to which Chuuya was slightly annoyed by because he thought it was referring to your new beau).

But no, he wasn’t greeted with a man. He opened his doors to find a boy with eyes as blue as the ocean sitting on his desk, fiddling with his pens. Eyes that remind him of the exact shade he looks at in the mirror everyday. Chuuya hurriedly shuts the door, locks it, and steps hesitantly toward the boy.

This boy… looks roughly about six years old. And Chuuya feels his breath hitching in his throat. That’s around the time you went missing. He feels everything closing in around him, the fear of why you left him finally being made clear to him.

Weirdly enough, the boy isn’t the tiniest bit scared. His head is tilted, fingers still fiddling with Chuuya’s fountain pen, and waiting for Chuuya to reach him. He blinks his little eyes, before finally smiling up at him after a while. He opens his mouth, a simple word leaving his delicate lips.

“Daddy!”

Chuuya isn’t even allowed a further minute to process it before he hears knocking on the ceiling and someone falls through the vent onto the floor; one with an all-too-familiar figure. And who flashes an all-too-familiar grin.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Half an hour later Chuuya finds himself struggling to process all the information you’ve unloaded on him. He observes as his son draws on a random piece of paper he’s found lying around, in the other side of the room.

“You let them think they’ve captured our son, when in reality you were waiting for them to?”

You nod. Chuuya internally facepalms himself. How is it that you’re able to gamble with this, too? With your — and his — son’s life on the line? You basically left him there to be abducted, knowing that they won’t do anything without Chuuya’s permission (who’s to say he wouldn’t have allowed them to torture the kid? Well, he wouldn’t, but still…) and then sneak yourself past security and into his office, all in the hopes of letting him know he has a son?

Then again, you wouldn’t bet something like that if you didn’t believe that things would absolutely go your way. He’s been with you for so long before, he’s familiar with your moves and the way you think. Not completely, but good enough.

It was so brilliantly simple. (Also, you used to sneak into his office through the vents when your relationship was still under wraps, so it really wasn’t a surprise to him that you chose to sneak in through there now.)

“Why now, after all this time? Why tell me now?”

For a moment he catches a brief look of guilt wash over your face. You lie back on the couch on your spot next to him, and close your eyes, as though bracing for an outburst as his response.

“I didn’t want to tell you at all, at first…” you trail off, the guilt completely taking over you now. “I only came now because… I want you to get Mori off my back.”

Now Chuuya understands why.

So, you didn’t even intend to give him a chance to meet his son, let alone let him be involved in any part of your life. But you only appeared because you knew Mori would come after you, demand for your help. The only reason you showed yourself today… was to convince Chuuya to help you. Because if there’s anyone who could convince Mori to back off, Chuuya could. And you understood that all too well.

Chuuya can just laugh at himself right now. How foolish is he, to think that you came back because you still harboured feelings for him. How pathetic of him.

He can sense his expression growing grim. Not that he’ll make any attempts to conceal it. His cerulean eyes travel from his son to you. You seem a little less guilty now, though. You look… at peace, somehow.

“What makes you think I’ll do what you want?”

“Because you want to prove me wrong.”

Your answer catches him off guard, and his anger is replaced by utter confusion. You take his silence as your cue to explain.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think you’d make a good father and do what’s right for our son. Prove me wrong. Keep our son away from this. Do what a good father would and give him a chance to grow up normal.”

Chuuya scoffs. So that’s why you didn’t tell him anything. Never told him you were pregnant. Never hinted at a goodbye. You’d rather be branded a traitor like Dazai instead of having to make Chuuya choose between you and the mafia. He knows; if you set your mind on something, it’s hard to change it. And in other situations it might’ve been negotiable, but not with your baby.

You know Chuuya would never betray the mafia. That’s why you think he’d never make a good father. Because he can’t put you or the baby first. And now… Now you come with good faith. You’re trying to believe that he can learn to be a good father.

Starting with this choice.

This impossible choice.

Except not really. He knows what he’ll end up choosing anyway. You were right. If he knew you were pregnant he’d have convinced you to stay with the mafia, convinced you that he’d make sure the baby is well-protected. But then he’d be missing the point of your whole argument. You grew up in the mafia, and technically, so did he. You knew how it didn’t allow a chance at normalcy, and you didn’t want to strip your baby of that choice. You wanted your child to at least have a taste of what being normal is like, before you ultimately let them choose what they want.

Now, even if he gives an unfavourable reply, he knows you’d do anything to keep his son away from the mafia. It’s only a question of whether or not you’d have to struggle against Chuuya for it.

Silently, he stretches a hand out to you as he gets up from the couch. He can see the subtle surprise on your face. You’re impressed, aren’t you? He has on the best poker face since you’ve met him. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, this being the first of such instance since you’ve met him. He doesn’t say a thing when you ask him what he’s up to, only continuing to offer his hand to you, keeping mum.

A gamble, a risk you’d have to take. You can either take his hand and see where he leads you, which could lead to you getting your way or it could just lead to total destruction. Or, you can refuse, and then you’d have to figure a way out on your own. Which Chuuya doesn’t doubt you’d already have ingrained in your head.

But he knows you’ll choose the former. Why? It’s the only one where an inherent risk is present. Because you’d be totally in his mercy.

And that’s why you find yourself flown out of the headquarters, onto some random building’s rooftop. A perfect view of the setting sun and an even more perfect view of your old lover, striking crimson locks imitating the beauty of the orange sunset.

Looks like it paid off.

“Will you let me know where you’re staying? A child needs his father,” Chuuya asks you, your fingers intertwined in his, and you forgot just how much you missed this; him.

“And the mafia needs you.”

A swift rejection, but he’s not going to give up so easily.

“I have a right to know. He’s my son too.”

You inch closer to him and he feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest. It’s been six years since he’s been this close to you, and he can’t believe he has to let you go again. With your son in tow, too. Without so much as a clue as to where you’re going to move to. No way to find out. Given that they only managed to find you in the first place because you wanted to be found.

“Maybe if you’re the boss or something.”

PRESENT.

Now here he is, sitting in the office, new king of the Port Mafia. And his two very important guests are making their way up here. Chuuya hurriedly puts the letters back away. They were how you communicated with him, updated him on you and your son. Though you never put any return address, so Chuuya couldn’t send one back even if he wanted to. Also, you didn’t include any photos, so Chuuya is curious how his son has turned out.

Your timing is impeccable, to choose to visit him just as he’s taken over the office. He suspects maybe you have your ways, what with the vast amount of officials you have wrapped around your finger.

But as the doors open, every other thought he has is thrown out the window. You enter first, and his face lights up, seeing those familiar pair of eyes, so warm, so inviting now. And behind you, your son, now slightly taller than you (and probably Chuuya but he refuses to think of that), greeting him with a polite nod and a smirk on his face.

A wave of understanding washes across his child’s face when he spots something hanging on the wall behind his father.

“Hey! You kept the drawing I did when I first came here!”

He had drawn the three of you together, with himself in the middle, his parents on either side of him, holding his hands and walking in a park.

Chuuya chuckles. “Of course, it was the only thing your mom let me remember you by.” He shifts his gaze over to you as your son gets the hint, moving to admire another far corner of the room.

You let yourself fall into his arms, and Chuuya hugs you tight. Because it’s taken eighteen years. A long, torturous eighteen years apart, which honestly was a run in circles, though it was a necessary one. But now finally, he can be together with you, and his son. Chuuya looks down at you with the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen, wet eyes threatening to spill with tears any moment now.

“Welcome home, my love.”

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

[changlingrogue]

Okay, a head's up, this got rambly and it will definitely have spoilers for Campaign 2 Episode 128, 127 and to be on the safe side 126. I'll tag it as "cr spoilers" and put it under a cut though.

Okay, so, starting from the jump the episode is a little anxiety inducing as it picks up directly where last week's left off with Caleb, Jester and Veth confronted by Trent down in the basement. Trent only appears to want to talk (being the mofo he is, his words are just as dangerous as his magic), but Caleb isn't having any of that and starts things off with casting Wall of Fire (I think?) to separate them from Trent. Trent dispels it and still seems interested in talking until Caleb casts a Firebolt at him. Veth follows up with her attack which does work and then Jester tries another Word of Recall which Trent tries to Counterspell with a horrifying nat 20, but it gets cancelled out by Caleb's nat 20 and the three of them escape to Nicodranas, outside on the Brenatto family's balcony. A couple of takeaways from this encounter:

Was trying to fight Trent the best idea, no. But like I can't say I blame Caleb. Liam made it very clear that Caleb was terrified. He was going off of raw emotions and being confronted by the man that ruined his life in a place that held a lot of emotional trauma for him... can't say most people would be able to keep a cool head.

It does still make me wonder how things would have went if Trent had been able to talk. Would they have been able to leave without things ending up like they ultimately did or was it just a way for Trent to keep control of the situation? Maybe a bit of both? Trent certainly risks losing more now that he has to come up with some sort of explanation for what happened at the sanitarium and given that the whole Cerberus Assembly is under investigation, its not a good look. Veth's decision to steal some of those crystals did alert Trent to what they were doing and is maybe part of the reason he's pursuing them so aggressively, but I feel like its going to be one of those things that really helps them out in the future. I was happy when it was proposed to keep at least one for evidence, because I think if it's used in the right way and given to the right people it might be a nail in the coffin Trent (hopefully) finds himself in.

To jump off from the crystal point, I'm really digging how in this campaign player choices have at times had some really interesting a longstanding consequences/rewards. Like it really makes the world feel alive, and that its not revolving around M9. Like for one of the more "positive" examples, Beau telling Dairon about how she was kidnapped and forced into the Cobalt Soul lead to the eventual arrest and upcoming trail of Zeenoth and the apology Beau deserved for years. But on the flip side, as we learn eventually, when the rest of the party joins back up with them in Nicodranas, Jester mentioning The Ruby of the Sea gives Trent a lead of where to find them. (I'd also like to mention that Team Outtie or Audi, lol, did a pretty good job. Fjord really came through with Arcane Gate, Marine Layer and even Major Image. It didn't stop Trent but it did keep the Guards busy. Caduceus got them out quick with Word of Recall and while Beau's umm, assassination attempt was brutal, she did keep the Guard on top of the tower from doing anything and she alerted Team Outtie to the arrival of Trent and more Guards.)

But back to Nicodranas and M9 trying to get their families there ferried away to safety. I really did nearly cry from the conversations Jester and Veth had. I adore Jester and mother's relationship, like Marion is one of my favorite of Matt's NPCs for more than reason and I love how just... loving and understanding she is. And I really like Yeza for that similar reason. Those two conversations really stuck out to me because of like... idk, I guess they sort of hit home a bit? With Jester and her mom it's the shift of being the one whose protected to the one who is the protector that I (and other adults) experience at one point when it comes to your parents as they get older. It's not as wild as keeping them safe from a powerful mage and his magic assassins, but it's a total flip in a relationship that you've had since you were younger.

And with Veth it's about being a parent and a partner and having to make choices and sometimes sacrifices to keep them safe. I'm really glad Veth and Yeza got a chance to talk and be open with one another, for at least a bit. I was surprised by Yeza's perspective of things and how he felt he was also guilty of putting their family in harm's way because I always assumed like, at least when it came to working with the Assembly he didn't have much a choice ( Idk if I just missed that part or it was mentioned in Talks or not), but him saying that he also took risks because he wanted to make something of himself and provide for Veth gives a new perspective of him and on his and Veth's relationship. Like now it seems more like he actually understands (on some level) Veth's conflicting feelings of wanting be an adventurer but wanting to be with her family too and that's why he's been so supportive of her vs him just kind of blindly supporting her. I really hope they continue to be open with one another and they keep talking about things, which I guess they might get a chance to again in the future if Veth actually does end up coming home to them for good after M9 takes care of the TombTakers. I'm sad about the idea of Veth leaving and not adventuring with the rest of M9, and I will legit cry if they say to goodbye but I can understand and respect her reasoning. She really did try to "have both" and for the things that they've been involved in, it, unfortunatly, doesn't work. Since reuniting with her family that's been one of her main conflicts and I'm happy that she finally seemed to come to a decision of what comprimises she can and can't make for the type of life she wants. I know a lot of the fandom won't be happy if Veth leaves and Sam creates another character but I like that Sam (and honestly everyone else as well) really plays his characters to who they are as people. After those heartwrenching moments, the tension in the game picks up again as they find out that they're being watched by two inviduals who turn out to be Astrid and Eadwulf. Astrid basically tells them to get everyone they care about and get the fuck out of Nicodranas since they've been dispatched to get them, and from some invisable tailing by Veth, we learn that there's another Volstrucker in town, along with fucking Trent himself and that they're only a few blocks away from the Lavish Chateu. So M9 gets themselves and the families together and steaths to Yussa's tower, hoping he could help them get somewhere else quick, only to find that he can't be reached at the moment. Luckily, his servant Wentsworth knows of something that might help and after some searching a Detect Languages spell, they find a scroll that has the spell Plane Shift and a tuning fork that they're unsure which plane its atturned to.

My thoughts on this are:

That I'm not sure if they're lucky or unlucky at this point. Because on one hand they're literally on the run from one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, but on the otherhand they've managed to escape him twice, despite the odds being against them. I really want to know what plane they're on, there's a lot of speculation that its the Plane of Fire which sounds terrible, but I'm not that versed in like D&D lore so maybe it's not as bad as it sounds in my head. I agree with Matt that thinking to use the Happy Fun Ball as a way to transport some of their people was pretty clever, I just hope they made the right choices for who went inside and who stayed outside. This is Yasha's first time in the ball! I wish it was under better circsumstances so that everyone could be there and they could actually explore but I wonder what her reaction will be. When she's not making out with Beau, lol. I'm not as worried for the group in the ball as I am for the group outside of it, I think Beau, Yasha and Fjord will be able to get to an exit without too much trouble as long as they don't stumble across any surprises that aren't on the map. And I'm very intrigued with how Astrid is shaping up as a character. I like so far what Matt is doing with her and I like that she's shaping up to not just be the "bad bitch/ruthless" villain archetype that a lot of female characters end up being. That character can be fun and enjoyable in certain things and when there's more beneath the surface, but it's nice to see that Astrid actually does care about Caleb. I was suspicious of her intentions before, but I feel that Matt has made it clear that while her and Eadwulf are still adversaries to the M9, they do care about Caleb and want to help him out. I feel for the whole Blumenthal Trio one way or another. To close things, because this had gotten way too long, lol. I can't wait for the next episode. Hopefully everything will work out for them and they can get the families to safety, though I don't know if sending them to the Gentleman is a good idea. But we'll see eventually!

[kosmosguk]

[Yandere Mafia BTS Reaction to You Being in Love with Their Rival]

[A/N: Got the day off tomorrow, so I worked HAM to get this done after so long. I interpreted this as Yandere bts mafia’s s/o being in love with their rival but if that’s not what you meant, message me and I’ll try to adjust this piece! Thank you <3]

Seokjin:

Seokjin is livid, the kind of livid where he’s shaking and he can't breathe or think properly because everything in his mind is painted an awful shade of red.  And even though he can barely see what’s in the photos with how blurry they are, he can see you, clear as day, smiling that special smile that’s reserved for only him where your eyes turn gooey and your lips curl up prettily. But instead of smiling at him, like you should be, you’re smiling at the leader of the rival mafia, your cheeks rosy in delight. You look lovesick with your arm entwined around his arms, even though Seokjin is convinced that you shouldn’t be looking like that, not when his enemy is just going to use you up like his other playthings before tossing you away. Seokjin almost wants to throw up at the disgusting sight. He wants to throw and break and hurt something, but he knows that he has to focus. Without focus, there’s no way he’s going to be able to torture and destroy his enemy for even daring to breathe near you, for trying to corrupt your beautiful, pure soul. He’s willing to pay anything, to give up anything to make his rival grovel and beg at his feet before he kills him like the animal he is. Killing his rival and making you watch that horrible man die is just his first punishment for you for even daring to look at another man. He has many, many other punishments reserved for you. After all, betraying him has consequences. And Seokjin, as you should have known by now, is nothing but a man who lives up to his threats.

Yoongi:

Yoongi’s your silent protector, someone who’s meant to watch and protect you from the dirty world. That’s why he can tell something is different with you. There’s a moony look in your eyes, the same kind he has whenever he looks at you, although his look is just a bit more intense. You’re always texting someone, smiling cutely as you giggle and type, shyly nibbling on your bottom lip that has Yoongi reeling in an intense simmering jealousy that he forces himself to swallow. And then you disappear in the middle of the night. Yoongi always checks up on you when you fall asleep after all; you can't hide anything from him. The next night, he follows you and sees you playfully wrap your arms around that sick son of a bitch. And no one’s around either, an act meant to preserve that bitch’s reputation. It’s an opportunity, one that Yoongi refuses to give up. He finds himself walking closer, slipping his gun from his waistband before aiming it point-blank and firing it straight into that bastard's head. It’s too easy; Yoongi can’t believe the same bastard who’s been taunting him for so long was so easy to kill. He sees you crying as he continues approaching, and you don’t even move when he scoops you into his arms and lovingly holds you, a warm action coming from a cold man. He knows that you don’t understand why he did that, why he has to protect you. The dead man before you two was a bad, evil man who would hurt you if Yoongi hadn’t done something. But Yoongi would never realize that maybe, just maybe he should have been protecting you from himself.

Namjoon:

Namjoon is deceptively calm. He simply nods his head at the information when his associate informs him of it before very cooly saying that he’d like to start an alliance with the rival group. But on one term, the leader would have to show up himself. The idea is presented professionally, cordially, and Namjoon does nothing less but acts absolutely charismatic. He even shows up at their main dwelling, no guards by his side, and practically nearly risks his life for his plan, acting like he was there for the sole intention of peace, a concept not well-known in the dangerous world he has sunk himself in. It’s almost a dare as he waits, calmly composed, for them to shoot him, fully aware that the vans he had posted nearby would straight up eliminate the whole building and everyone in it if they dared. The leader, a peace-loving imbecile, foolishly gives in, wanting nothing more than to quell the deaths that had been raging between the two groups. And nothing bad seems to happen at first. They both sign a document. They both shake hands. And they both raise a glass of wine from the very same bottle, ready to toast the alliance. And as the leader takes his first sip of the drink, the color ominously crimson underneath the dim glow of the room’s light, all is calm. And then it isn’t. The leader, that son of a bitch, chokes slightly on air, his hand flying to his throat. He turns purple, his words garbled, before paling. As the guards rush forward and are shot by the men Namjoon had carefully posted away from the naked eye, the leader’s head thuds on the table. Namjoon doesn’t even care that he has an absolute war on his hands, not when he’s eliminated his true obstacle. 

Hoseok:

Hoseok is loving, so loving that it almost covers up his title of being the leader of one of the most powerful mafia groups. But there are some moments where you can tell that this man, the very man who taught you how to dance to the flow of the music and covered your eyes during more gruesome movie scenes while laughing lightly, is just like every other powerful leader: a selfish, cold-blooded killer. You just never thought you’d have to experience it firsthand. You’re coming home after an outing with your new beau, running on the light-footed euphoric high of love when you notice Hoseok sitting on your sofa, his lips curled in a disgruntled slope instead of the wide curved smile he usually wore. You can barely greet him before he cuts you off, demanding to know where you’ve been. You fib, something that was more of a white lie than anything, because Hoseok is protective and, well, a part of you feels guilty for hiding the fact that you’ve been seeing his worst enemy who you’re convinced really isn’t that bad. Hoseok’s eyes flash, their bright depths darkened, and in a flash of a movement, he’s up, his face red as he accuses you of betraying him, calling you a whore for lowering yourself to the level of that scum. You’re thrown off at this sudden change in Hoseok, your sweet smiling Hoseok, but more than anything, you’re furious that he’s acting like such an asshole when it’s none of his business. Before you can do anything more than scream, Hoseok is lunging for you, and you hurry back, falling down and knocking yourself out when your head collides on the edge of the coffee table. You shouldn’t be all too surprised when you wake up chained in a different place next to your sweet, loving Hoseok who smells just a bit, although his cologne covers it, like blood.

Jimin:

Jimin's almost in tears at your betrayal, at the news he just received that shouldn't be true. You’re lovers, intertwined by the fate of destiny that Jimin had been cruelly deprived of before he met you. You loved him, with the ways you always treated him so sweetly and smiled up at him with such affection. He feels like his heart's breaking, like he can't breathe or even function anymore at the sight of you kissing the man who made his life hell. And when Jimin feels betrayed and hurt, he becomes desperate. And desperation leads people to do dangerous, horrific things. His desperation leads to his belief that you must be angry at him; he must not be giving you enough gifts and maybe you were angry because he was late to a meet up with you or maybe you had gotten a hair cut that he hadn’t noticed. That’s why you found another man, as retaliation for Jimin not being a good enough boyfriend. This is just a bad patch in your relationship, one that Jimin’s going to fix. And he knows just how he’s going to fix it. You trust Jimin enough to leave your phone with him when you're running an errand, and even though Jimin feels like every fiber of his being is breaking, he knows it wasn't your fault that you were manipulated. He would fix this, just for you. So you wouldn't mind if he pretended to be you, texting a meetup location with his enemy, teasingly implying that you had a special present for him and wanted him to be alone. And you wouldn’t mind if when your lover came, captured by Jimin’s men for Jimin to deal with later. After all, if Jimin cried and begged and held onto you hard enough, you'd eventually forgive him. In fact, you might even thank him.

Taehyung:

Taehyung knows every detail about you. He knows when you’ve started to meet someone else. He’s furious, but he knows just exactly how to work the situation. Taehyung’s emotional, but he’s also manipulative, knowing which of your insecurities to prey on for the result he wants. He hires someone to find more risky photos of your new lover, images of the man with his past lovers scandalously pressed to him, and send them to you, threats scrawled on them about how your lover was just using you like he did with other girls, how you were just a pretty thing to adorn his side before he got sick of you and threw you away. It’s almost easy from then on. His men catch sight of a ruckus near your place and report back news of you screaming at your lover, slapping his face when he tries to get close to you and shoving the photos Taehyung had sent into his chest. When you storm out of your apartment, Taehyung’s prepared, sending more men to carefully knock you out when you head into an area without any cameras and people and drag you away. And when you wake up, eyes fierce as you hiss out that your lover is going to do whatever it takes to save you and that Taehyung was pathetic for kidnapping someone he didn’t even know, Taehyung plays his cards carefully, setting a picture of your lover with another woman by his side--the woman was really just his subordinate--before your bound form and talking about how he really doubts that when your lover has already found another body to warm up his bed. He shouldn’t find this much pleasure in seeing how you absolutely shatter at the sight, relishing in how your tears drip down your cheeks, but this will teach you how he’s the only one meant for you.

Jungkook:

As the youngest to rise into the position as leader of such a powerful group, Jungkook is notorious in the mafia world for his sheer brutal power and warlike demeanor. He excels in everything he does, from small things such as precisely shooting a gun blind to big things such as gaining the trust of not only nearly every single member in his group but the alliance of other powerful groups. You were his escort to events, beautiful and put together as you turned a blind ear to the risky, sometimes horrific deals that were being placed on the table. Jungkook thinks highly of you, despite how you’re really only doing the job in exchange for the large sum of cash you could use to pay off your college loans. And somehow along the way, he had fallen for your quick wit humor, the way you so cordially interacted with very dangerous men with an air of aloofness. So to see you next to the side of the only man in his group that didn’t fully trust Jungkook and had openly protested Jungkook’s rise to power, the son of a bitch who Jungkook hated with a burning passion casually tugging you close by your waist, left the young man feeling something he hadn’t felt in years: heartbroken. He’s spurred to find a way to absolutely destroy the man, establishing a discreet plan where the man would go missing like another rival group had kidnapped him and show up dead, killed in the same exact manner that the rival group was infamous for. And when you hear the news and become absolutely devastated, seeking comfort, you'll be back where you belong: at Jungkook's side. And if you refuse to comply, Jungkook is absolutely not above using a more brutal threat to convince you otherwise.

[unicyclehippo]

Can you do "Take off your shirt" for Beaujester?

it’s early in the morning now; the sun hasn’t quite risen from its cradle behind the mountains but the sky is slowly bleaching to a pale gauzy grey, a rippled fabric roof that feels heavy and strange. maybe it’s just because jester is accustomed to the seaside, that burned blue sky that changes seemingly on a quick wind to storm tossed grey and back again. the sky in rexxentrum never seems to change. never goes entirely black with storm like it feels like it should. never clears. just...hangs there.

jester is staring out at it when a hand presses somewhat clumsily onto the glass pane, shoves it open. the latch strains and then pops open—not very strong, someone should tell the nice vaguely overbearing dwarven lady about that. hinges shriek faintly. a voice, probably belonging to the person whose hands those are, swears quietly.

‘you know,’ jester says, and watches those fingers grow white with pressure beneath the splattering of grime and blood, ‘you could have come through the door. it might’ve been quieter, beau.’

beau hangs a moment longer. then, with a long grunt of effort, lifts herself up onto the sill. she straddles it, inches carefully into the room and despite herself, jester is kinda impressed. if she hadn’t been awake already, she never would’ve woken up—and, and this can’t be forgotten, they are on the second floor.

‘very impressive!’ jester shuffles in the bed, sits up, applauses brightly. beau’s form is all in shadow, silhouetted by the rising sun, but jester sees her shoulders rise with a little shrug.

‘thanks.’

jester frowns. ‘are you okay? you sound weird.’

‘fine.’ beau pulls herself fully through the window. if jester hadn’t been watching closely, she would miss the way the other girl sways. puts her hand out on the end of the bed to steady herself. she wonders idly what she might have missed in the past, if she hadn’t been watching. ‘i’m gonna take a bath. wake myself up.’

‘oh, but, did you sleep?’

‘yeah. yeah, i slept,’ beau tells her. she doesn’t sound like she’s lying, but. jester also knows she’s good at it. ‘just went on a little, y’know, wake up run. some exercises. don’t wanna get flabby during down time, gotta keep in peak physical condish.’ her voice is typical beau: brash, harsh, over-confident, warm. pointed. like she’s talking right to jester. it isn’t so profound an effect when it’s just the two of them—and a sleeping yasha on the floor but she’s sleeping—but jester still feels it.

it’s distracting. jester pulls her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around them. with a cheek pillowed on her knees, eyes tracking the way beau picks her way across the floor, jester wonders if maybe that means something. if maybe beau meant something, something real, when she talked about how good icky-thong and da’leth were at talking around something. how she had agreed when jester mentioned the details.

‘why do you have blood on your hands?’ jester asks, before beau can reach the door. ‘is that part of your morning exercises?’

beau stops. turns toward jester. not fully, but enough that she can eye the bed, and jester in it. enough that jester can see one corner of beau’s mouth as it twitches into a stretched smile.

‘yeah. sometimes, i dunno if you’ve noticed,’ she comments with a grin, ‘but i punch things.’

‘i’m not stupid beau.’

‘what? no, i know you’re not!’

‘i know you punch things.’ jester swings her legs out, touches her feet down onto the pleasantly chilly wooden floor. she wiggles her toes. ‘i know you don’t punch, trees and stuff,’ she insists. ‘not until you bleed.’

‘advanced monk techniques. always learning new shit.’

‘that lie,’ jester says, trying to keep her voice steady, ‘wasn’t as good as your others. turn around.’

beau stays where she is facing the door.

‘i’m gonna take a bath. i stink.’

‘turn around, beau.’

‘no.’

jester stares, confused, at beau’s back. ‘no?’ she doesn’t think beau has ever told her no before. not like that, not without suggesting something else, or, or saying hey i like the idea but it’s also the worst one i have ever heard, just sayin’.

‘i’m taking a bath. and i’m going to the archives afterwards. don’t wait for me. tell the others.’

‘oh. okay.’

jester hates the way her voice sounds—small and confused. hates the way beau’s shoulder twitches before she reaches out for the door to the hallway and slips out, out of sight.

she waits there a moment, tail curling and uncurling around her ankle. she listens to the sounds: yasha’s deep, even breathing, so nice to hear after she had been gone for so long; foot traffic and the wooden tap of wheels over cobbled stone from the one or two wagons moving around so early in the day; the silence like a held breath and then the distant rattle and hum of pipes from the bathroom.

jester’s eyes drop from the doorway to the floor. there’s a pool of blood where beau had been standing. small, maybe a good dozen or so heavy drops. jester’s stomach squirms at the sight of it. too much to have come from scraped knuckles.

‘oh this is a bad idea,’ she tells herself, but pushes open the door and follows after beau.

//

the washroom is lovely. small, only intended for one or maybe two occupants. the bath itself is only big enough for one adult, though feasibly if one wasn’t particularly concerned with comfort, two or three could cram into the space. the bottom one might drown, of course, but it’s only a hypothetical.

the room is filled with steam but beau is still dressed, leaned over the hand basin in a pose jester has never seen her in. slumped. tired. one hand is braced on the wooden tub and she stands a pace or two back, most of her weight on the one arm. her head hangs down, hair loose and falling like a curtain down around her face.

her other hand, jester sees—in the instant between breaking the handle to burst in and beau whirling around to face her—her other hand is curled arojnd her waist. no, a little higher. around her ribs.

‘what’s wrong with your ribs?’ jester demands.

‘what the fuck?’ beau hisses back. the steam isn’t enough to hide the damage to her face—the rapidly swelling cheekbone, obviously broken, the split in the same eyebrow. ‘jester, i’m in the fucking bathroom—i could have been taking a shit—‘

‘but you aren’t taking a shit!’ jester accuses, and kicks the door shut behind her. ‘you’re in here being weird and bleeding and not telling me what’s wrong! i know there’s something wrong beau, i’m not stupid!’

‘why do you—has someone called you stupid?’ beau half asks, half demands. ‘why do you keep saying that? who was it?’

‘no, no one, it’s just—ah!’ jester almost screams, jabs a finger toward beau. they’re close, not quite face to face but the room isn’t terribly large. ‘don’t try to distract me, it won’t work!’

the steam has wafted away from their faces, largely escaped out the door and now curls around their feet, building again, pouring from the bathtub as the water level rises slowly. with no filter, nothing hiding beau’s face, jester sees the flicker of something in dark eyes—fear? annoyance? upset? as soon as she sees it, it’s gone again; jester pours over beau’s face, her stance, but she’s gone still and silent and there’s nothing to pluck, nothing to catch.

‘bad training session,’ beau lies. out and out lies.

jester huffs, scowls across at her. ‘you don’t have to lie to me, beau. i don’t care what you were doing—well, no, i care but you know if it was a bar fight i would think that’s really fun, and if it was dairon i would kick her in the teeth because wow-a, you’re fucked up,’

‘thanks. i held my own pretty good, though.’ beau smirks. chucks her chin up in that infuriating smug way she does. there’s still nothing behind the unblinking eyes.

‘i just mean, whatever it is, beau, i just want to make sure you’re okay. you know that, right?’

‘of course.’

‘of course,’ jester repeats, brow crinkling. she can’t figure out why it sounds so weird, so off. shrugs it away uncomfortably. ‘so?’

‘so what?’

‘are you gonna let me heal you or what?’

there is a long, long moment where jester has no idea what beau is going to say. it’s strange, because they’ve been through storms and fights and people nearly dying and getting kidnapped and being pirates and shopping and rescuing people and jester was pretty sure that, if not an open book, beau was fairly easy to read. that she got the gist of what beau was saying, or what she wanted to say. but here, in a cramped steaming room with very little space between them and a pressing weight of a lot of very important very scary things bearing down on all sides, jester looks for the face of her friend in the woman across from her and finds nothing but a smooth mask. and who is standing behind it, she can’t quite say.

‘beau?’

‘i don’t mind a scar or two,’ beau says. smile ticks up at the corner, crooked, charming in a very roguish kind of way.

‘i think you’ll mind when your broken cheek stops you from eating. or gets infected and your brain swells and you die.’

‘sexy. the way i’ve always wanted to go.’

‘beau.’

finally. beau’s eyes cut away from her. it isn’t much, but it’s enough. almost a flinch.

‘have i—done something wrong?’

‘no,’ beau insists, instantly, the word spat between them. her eyes are back on jester, burning hot. ‘no.’

‘then what is it? because first you’re not wanting to sleep with me and then you’re not talking to me and you’re sneaking out in the middle of the night to go i don’t even know.’

‘fight.’

‘well obviously,�� jester mutters, accent thick with upset.

‘in a fighting pit.’ beau breaks her harsh stance a bit. steps over to the bath and twists the tap off so it stops filling. it’s at about the halfway mark now and she busies herself with sniffing at a few of the bottles on the counter, nose wrinkling at the heavily perfumed ones. she tips in a few drops of something that smells of wood notes, lets the oil diffuse into the water.

‘i get to fight,’ she tells jester, and lowers herself down onto the small stool beside the bath, one arm resting on the lip of it, the other curled around her middle. ‘until i win, or until i’m fucked up.’ she grins. tired. more of a baring of teeth.‘same thing, kinda.’

‘oh.’ jester looks around for another stool. there isn’t one, so she perches on the edge of the bath. ‘so. you’re, like, not okay then.’

beau’s grin widens. she laughs a little, disbelieving. shakes her head. ‘i guess not.’

‘is it because of caleb?’

‘what?’

‘you were super pissed the whole time we were at—at that place. and every time caleb mentioned icky—‘

‘don’t. say his name,’ beau breathes. squeezes her eyes shut tight. winces at the pressure on her cheek. ‘yeah. i hated that.’

jester narrows her eyes. ‘but is that really why? or are you letting me think it?’

‘i’m not that good of a liar, jester.’

‘but are you really not, or are you just saying tha—‘

‘jes.’

jester huffs. arranges her skirts.

they sit for a few long moments in silence. then beau bends with a groan to start to remove her boots. jester slides to the floor to help, batting beau’s hands away.

‘jes, no, you don’t have to—‘

‘you’re hurt, beau. just...let me.’

the laces hiss out of their hoops, loosen from around beau’s ankles. jester tosses one and then the other into the corner of the room, peels beau’s socks off next and throws them soon after. it might be the heat of the room but beau is flushed, embarrassed, and the hand on the bath comes up to cover her face.

‘thanks,’ she grunts.

‘you’re welcome.’ jester glances up from beneath lowered lashes, catches the exhaustion written over beau’s face when she thinks jester isn’t looking. ‘beau?’

‘mn.’

‘are you okay? for real?’

‘i mean, i’m beat to shit but that was kinda the point.’

‘no, i know,’ jester says, though she doesn’t think she does know entirely. not in the way beau seems to be implying. ‘but. everything with caleb and the beacon and, and yasha, and,’

‘right. yasha,’ beau sighs, sounding ten times more exhausted. ‘i need to talk to the soul.’

‘about yasha?’

‘nah. i mean. sort of.’ she tilts her head from side to side in a half nod. ‘about the way da’leth fuckin’ lied to them about who yasha was.’ beau shakes her head, seeing jester’s worry. ‘i’m not gonna let them do anything to her. i’m not mad—i’m relieved as hell we got her back, trust me.’

‘i do,’ jester says instantly.

the tightness in the corners of beau’s eyes loosens a fraction. enough that jester notices.

‘yeah. i just can’t—i can’t side with the assembly on lying to the soul just because my friend is caught in the mix.’ beau sighs. stands. ‘anyway. fuck. i need a bath. gotta soak and—not think. for a second, anyway.’ jester stands when she does and for a moment beau looks at her expectantly and then sighs. ‘i don’t mean to be rude but like, alone?’

jester rolls her eyes. ‘i’m not leaving until i’ve healed you.’ discomfort slashes across beau’s face like the cut of a knife. ‘you didn’t think i would seriously follow you and let you get away with not getting healed, did you?’

‘i mean...’

‘no. take off your shirt.’

‘not the way i’m used to hearing that said,’ beau jokes. she turns around. grips her shirt at the waist and pulls it up and over her head.

jester stares. she can’t help it. she’s seen beau get changed in their shared room before, shared excursions to bath houses before, but not like this. maybe because it has been a while, maybe because beau has gotten stronger and harsher on their travels, maybe because beau is holding herself tight and tense with pain or worry or vanity, but beau’s back is sculpted—layer upon layer corded muscle and scar, make up the planes of beau’s back, holding tight to the column of her spine, taut muscles of her shoulders leading to the notch of her neck where it meets the spine. her scapula shift, probably out of discomfort, but it looks mesmerising to watch the muscle and bone move beneath her skin.

and the bruises. the imprint of knuckles, of dull bootprints, the too-perfect ring of knuckledusters, paint purples and reds over beau’s skin, breaking the surface now and again in red scratches and contusions.

jester reaches out.

‘i’m—going to heal you now.’

‘yup. cool.’

she lays her hand flat on beau’s back. it falls of its own accord, seemingly, to curl around beau’s hip and the magic doesn’t burst out of her or sparkle like it sometimes does but instead jester, maybe because she’s so entranced so focused on beau and healing her, that jester feels beau. feels her like her magic is touching her, like she’s seeping into beau, the edges of herself and beau merging for a second. it’s weird and scary and jester whips her hand away quickly.

stares as beau rolls her shoulders out, the movement exaggerated by being so in her face.

‘thanks, jes. that—that feels better.’

‘good.’

‘can i have my bath now?’ beau asks.

jester hesitates. tries one more time. ‘are you okay, beau?’

‘i mean, you healed me so never better.’ she waits a moment. ‘i’m kinda half naked, jes.’

it’s not the answer she wanted. or, it is—she wants beau to be okay—but it was casual, easy. another lie. she leaves, feeling like she has seen more of beau than she was prepared for. and not the naked skin part.

jester focuses a minute on mending the handle and lock of the door she had broken. that, at least, is straightforward. that, at least, she can fix.

[conceptstage]

People Like Us

AO3

Vex looked up when Taryon walked into the dining room that morning and frowned, seeing the hurried expression on his face. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, I just got word that a little girl was kidnapped in Kamordah, I don’t have anyone to spare to go look for her,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d go myself, but I need to be here when Jena comes back from her mission.”

Vex had come to visit him to get away from the others for a little while. She loved them, of course, but everyone was walking on eggshells around her and Keyleth. Kiki had dealt with it by just telling everyone off, snapping at them with tears in her eyes and then immediately apologizing. She seemed to feel better and the others left her alone more, so maybe that would have been the better idea for Vex as well. But Percy was so sweet and Pike was so kind and Grog was so… Grog. She just needed a break. 

“I can go,” she said, taking a large bite of her hashbrowns and then downing her morning cup of beer. She jumped up to her feet and wiped her hands on her shirt. “Kamordah is just a day down the road, right?”

Taryon looked shocked. “Vex, I can’t ask you to do that. Your…” he paused and frowned.

“My brother’s dead. I know. I need something to do, Tary, I need something to work on. I love you, I do, but I’m going crazy just watching you work all day.” She kissed his cheek and smiled at him. “I’ll just be a few days. Give me the information on the girl.”

Vex took the letter that had been sent to Tary, donned her armor, and rode into the morning sun.

-

Kamordah was a nice enough town, Vex assumed, riding her horse through the streets. People gave her some space here, whereas in any Tal Doren town people would have flocked to see and talk to her. It was nice to have a bit of anonymity after such a quick rise to the spotlight. Keyleth would enjoy this, she should bring her along next time. The Voice of the Tempest didn’t get a lot of time to herself these days.

She steered her horse towards the estate indicated in the letter and was met by a butler, who took the letter inside as someone came from the stable to take her horse. The butler returned quickly and lead her into the magnificent house. It wasn’t quite Whitestone levels of extravagance, but she could see her younger self breaking into this place with her nearly identical partner in crime.

She was met in the living room by a lovely woman in possibly her mid twenties and a slightly older man in his early to mid thirties. The woman was dressed in the delicate fineries of someone who had never had to work a day in their lives and the man was in something a bit more practical, like he expected to do a lot of walking but no actual manual labor.

“You’re the mercenary?” the woman asked, giving her an unimpressed look over.

It had been a long time since she’d been called that. “Yes, Ma’am. Vex’ahlia.”

The man cleared his throat and stepped forward, shaking her hand sternly and staring directly at her soul through her eyes. “I am Sir Lionett, owner of Lionett winery. And this is my wife. Our daughter has been missing for three days.”

Vex blinked from his intensity and general lack of emotion. His daughter was missing, why did he seem so blase? “Your letter said you thought she kidnapped? Do you have any leads?”

The woman sighed and sneered at the archer in distaste. “No, I thought that’s what we were paying you for. Dear, just let the local guards handle it. I don’t like involving riffraff.”

Vex gave her best diplomatic smile. It was kind of refreshing, actually. No one at home told her the truth anymore, everyone just told her what they thought she wanted to hear. “Trust me, Madam, I’ll return your daughter. So you have no idea who might have taken her? Any enemies? Anything you can tell me about her? What’s the name?”

The woman sighed again and rolled her eyes. “You deal with this, Love, I’m going to get more wine.” Then she stood and left the room.

The man ignored his wife completely. “Her name is Beauregard. She’s four. I’ve no idea who might have taken her, she just disappeared from her room four days ago.”

Vex opened her mouth to ask another question and then frowned. “Did anyone see her get taken?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know she was taken? She might have just run away.”

The man gave her a smug look like he thought she was a simpleton. “No. That’s impossible. She knows better than that. She knows what would be awaiting her here if that were the case.”

Vex stared at him for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. May I look at the scene of the crime, please?”

The man nodded and waved at the butler that had brought her in. “Take her to Beauregard’s room. And watch her closely.”

The butler bowed and then started up the stairs. “Of course, Sir.”

Vex waited until there was no one looking at her to scowl. This entire situation was painfully familiar. She followed the butler up the room and he kept a close eye on her as she surveyed it. The room was spotless. “This is how it looked when you realized she was gone?” she asked.

“One of the tutors realized she was missing when she didn’t come to her afternoon lessons.” No one noticed before then? No one came to check on her in the morning, no one thought it was weird when she didn’t show up to breakfast? “The room had been cleaned by then. I’ve spoken to the maids that were assigned to this room that day and they said that there was nothing amiss, except the window was open.”

Vex sighed and pushed open the window, taking a deep breath of sweet, spring air. She frowned and turned to the butler. “You don’t actually think this was a kidnapping, do you?” she asked. The more she saw, the more certain she was that this was just a run away.

The butler finally showed a bit of emotion, frowning and looking down at his shoes. “Lady Beau… I would not doubt that she would do such a thing. She’s intelligent, beyond her four years. She’s willful and quick as a whip. And she’s unhappy here.”

Vex smiled softly at him. “You care about her, don’t you?” Of the three people she’d spoken too, it seemed this butler was the only one.

“All the staff do.” The butler cleared his throat and stared ahead, trying to mask his feelings. “Lady Beau deserves more,” he said quietly. “And she knows it. I would not be surprised if she ran away to find it, but I would never say so to the Master.”

“Free with his hands, is he?” Vex asked, sneering as she leaned out the window farther, looking down the wall. “No need to say it, I know the type.” The butler remained quiet. There was a trellis nearby, possibly how she got out without being seen. It wasn’t extremely close, it would have taken a good jump to get to it. It wouldn’t hold her weight but it could probably handle a child. She hopped up on the window sill, ignoring the butler’s cry of shock, and leapt over near it, hitting the ground and rolling easily back up to her feet. She looked the trellis over with a keen eye and spotted a vine that seemed to have been crushed by a tiny, bare foot. “Bingo,” she muttered, looking down at the ground under it and finding it disturbed. 

“Ma’am!” the butler called from the window.

“I have tracks. Tell the parents I’m on the case and will be back shortly,” she called as she followed the tiny footprints down the side of the house and towards the dirt road. The tracks continued down the road for a while before breaking off into the trees. Vex followed them carefully. There were broken twigs and crushed mushrooms leading her on when the footsteps disappeared in the brush. It wasn’t far into the trees when she started to smell smoke. It was old, possibly hours old, doused when the sun had risen over the horizon. She followed it quietly, being careful that her weight didn’t snap a twig to alert the girl of her presence. 

“Take that!” said a voice. “And that! En garde!” She smiled slightly as she peered around a tree to find a little, barefoot girl with brown skin and hair that were both covered in mud and leaves. She was holding a stick like a sword and fighting with a low hanging tree branch. There was an unlit campfire nearby, crudely made but functional, and a babbling brook with clear, cool water.

“Are you showing that tree whose boss?” Vex teased, tensed in case she tried to run.

The girl jumped and cried out in surprise, whipping around with the stick held out in front of her protectively. “Who are you!” she demanded. “What do you want?”

Vex held up her empty hands as she stepped closer, stopping when the girl took a step back and slowly lowering herself to sit. “My name is Vex. I was hired by your parents to find you. Beauregard, right?”

Beau sneered at her and didn’t lower her makeshift weapon. “I’m not going back. Tell that old man to shove this stick up his butthole!” then she threw the stick at Vex and turned to run into the trees.

Vex dodged the stick easily and dashed forward, running in front of her and holding out her arms. “Hold on, hold on! I just want to talk!”

Beau kept running towards her and Vex held out her arms, prepared to catch her, but the girl ducked down and slid between her legs, scrambling back to her feet on the other side of Vex’s body. Vex spun around and caught her under her arms, lifting her in the air while her feet kicked uselessly.

“Let me go! I’m not going back!”

Vex sighed and started walking her back to her little campsite. “Come on, we’re just going to talk.” 

“Grown ups always say that but they really mean: listen to me while I yell at you and tell you you’re bad,” Beau grumbled, crossing her arms and sneering at the older woman.

“I’m not going to yell and you’re not bad. We’re just going to have a little chat, just you and me.”

“I’m going to bite you,” the girl said, matter-of-factly.

Vex laughed and sat her down on her feet by the tree she’d been fighting. “I have a pet bear who I raised from a cub, I can handle being bit.”

There was an instant change in the girl’s face and her eyes widened with wonder. “A pet bear?” she exclaimed. “Can I see it?”

“He’s back at my house on Tal Dorei right now protecting my husband. His name is Trinket and he is the very best bear in the world.”

Beau grinned. “I wanted a pet rat, but my mom made me get rid of it.” Vex would have liked to see that exchange. She imagined the stuffy, self obsessed woman from earlier screaming and jumping around at the sight of her daughter’s rat. “They’re actually super clean and neat, they’re not dirty and diseased like she said.”

“I know, darling,” she said quietly. She sighed and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Beau’s ear. “And I know what you’re going through. You have been born into a family that does not appreciate you. They might never appreciate you.”

Beau sneered. “But they love me right? That’s what people say, they hurt you but they love you.”

“No, people don’t hurt people they love. I won’t tell you otherwise. But listen, okay? Someday, you’re going to make your own family.”

Beau’s sneer twisted up even more in disgust. “Like marriage? Egh, no thanks.”

Vex laughed and shook her head. “No, dear. Not like that. Someday you’re going to find a group of people who love you as much as any parents could love you. You will find people who don’t share your blood that will call you their sister. People like us, we have to build our families from scratch.” Beau frowned at her but there was hope in her eyes. Vex stood and held out her hand. “Come on. You can’t live out here, though I have to say I’m immensely impressed you’ve gone this long.”

Beau crossed her arms. “I could live out here forever if I wanted.”

“I’m certain that you could, you’re very resourceful.”

Beau seemed to consider her carefully for a moment and then reached out to take her hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

As Vex rode away from the house that afternoon, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t have left a four year old to live alone in the woods but maybe there was another option that she could have considered besides returning the girl to her parents.

She glanced over her shoulder and tried to find a face in a window. FInally, she caught Beau’s eyes. The girl was standing on the roof and when she saw Vex looking, she grinned and waved, ignoring the frantic maid calling at her to get down from there before she broke her neck.

Vex laughed and waved back before disappearing down the road.

[night-filled-mountain]

So, uh. I wrote a post. About Fjord and Caleb. It is over 3000 words long. I’m not going to make any attempt to justify this as a life decision. All I’ll say is that I am sure as hell putting this under a cut, and I would only venture beneath that cut if you really, really want to read an obsessive analysis of practically every significant interaction Fjord and Caleb have ever had (complete with direct quotes thanks to the light of my life, @crtranscript) that is longer than a goddamn term paper.

So the thing that keeps getting to me is that when Caleb agreed to bleed all over a dark altar to satisfy Fjord’s (and his own) curiosity, and he asked if Fjord would help him with his own goals when the time comes, Fjord didn’t say “Yes” or “It’s a deal” or anything along those lines. He said, “Always.” (This was in episode 44, which we all know, but I’m noting it because I’m going to be talking about a lot of different episodes in this post.)

We all know that Caleb tends to view almost all social interactions as transactional. (I’ve seen people claiming that Nott is the one exception to this rule, and I’d actually argue that Jester is the one exception, but that’s a whole other post.) Fjord, on the other hand, does not view his relationships with the Mighty Nein that way. He never has. In fact, I feel like he, more than any other member, has seen them as a family from the start. Furthermore, I think that this fundamental misunderstanding between Fjord and Caleb goes back almost as far as the campaign itself.

Courtesy of the amazing folks @crtranscript, here’s their famous conversation from episode 4 of this campaign, “Disparate Pieces”:

Caleb: This group seems rough around the edges, but you seem clever. Hopefully we can make this work.

Fjord: I think we should be able to, yeah. I mean, a little guidance goes a long way. You seem to be good at looking out for Nott.

Caleb: I mean, full disclosure, I’m a little rough around the edges, but you catch my drift.

Fjord: I do. You can trust us. You’re safe here. I’m concerned with what happens with Jester and Beau. I think, amongst all of us, we should be fine.

Caleb: Let’s make it work.

Fjord: We’ll make it work.

The thing is, I don’t think Fjord does catch Caleb’s drift, or vice versa. Caleb is talking about practicalities--about his hope for a group that can remain cohesive for a while, protect him from danger, and help him achieve his goals, assuming he does the same for them. His comment that they are “rough around the edges” is an expression of his anxiety that they will not fulfill those criteria, which is why he comes to Fjord, who he sees as the most levelheaded and friendly of the bunch, to try and assuage his fears.

And then there’s his “Full disclosure, I’m a little rough around the edges,” which reveals an alternate anxiety that he struggles with enormously to this day: that he might not be useful to them--or at least, not useful enough to off-set all his baggage. Caleb sees other people as commodities, but he also sees himself that way. Yes, he has considered leaving the Mighty Nein with Nott (or even taking off on his own) when he starts to feel they might endanger his life or hinder his goals...but he is also afraid of being forced out. Of being abandoned by the group if they learn what he’s done, or the fragile state of his sanity, or how much danger hangs over him. From his perspective, his entire relationship with Beau hinges on this fear, and it (along with Beau being...Beau) periodically gets in the way of the genuine friendship they might otherwise develop.

In short, Caleb went to Fjord in “Disparate Pieces” to find out whether he thought that the future Mighty Nein would make a good toolbox, and to pitch himself as a useful tool in that box, despite his shortcomings. Fjord, though, takes things much deeper than that:

He acknowledges friendships and protective urges within the group (“You seem to be good at looking out for Nott” and “I’m concerned with what happens with Jester and Beau”). He’s positioning himself and Caleb as protectors within the group, watching over its younger or more chaotic members, without even considering why they would want to/what they will get in exchange. (Note that at some point in those early episodes, he even offered to protect Frumpkin if that mattered to Caleb.)

He doesn’t offer Caleb any specific skills or services, nor ask what he can give in return. Instead, he makes an unconditional blanket statement: “You can trust us. You’re safe here.” Considering the sum total of Caleb’s life experiences, it seems highly doubtful that Caleb actually believed him. Yet I’m pretty sure Fjord meant every word.

He doesn’t think (like Caleb will in episode 26, “Found and Lost,” after the Iron Shepherds abduction) about what each member of the group might contribute to his goals. He just makes another blanket statement: “Amongst all of us, we should be fine.” In his mind, they’re already a unit. And not just a functional unit like a toolbox, or even a ship’s crew. They’re a family. They’re like two misfit dads with a pack of adopted misfit children. (This also goes a long way to explaining the perpetual tension between Fjord and Nott, but again, that’s a whole other post.)

And to me, that’s it right there, the fundamental divide. Mighty Nein as toolbox vs. Mighty Nein as family. It explains Caleb and Fjord’s one big schism: Scrollgate (episode 12, “Midnight Espionage”). To Caleb, you always use the handiest tools in your arsenal, whether they happen to be your teammates or a magical scroll in a drawer. To Fjord, the safety of the family comes before personal goals, always: “We’re either a team, or you’re working for yourselves. Decide.” And note that a few seconds after Caleb “decided” (by dropping the scroll and walking out of the room), Fjord was hauling an unconscious Caleb out of a burning house and pouring a healing potion down his throat. Their confrontation was irrelevant the moment Caleb confirmed himself as part of the family.

This division doesn’t just explain why they’ve clashed in the past, though, but also why their relationship has improved. When did Fjord’s opinion of Caleb take a turn for the better? When Caleb showed up at the Sour Nest, played a central role in defeating the Iron Shepherds and freeing his kidnapped teammates, and then comforted them and expressed affection for them (episode 30, “The Journey Home”). Travis said on Talks Machina that both he and Fjord were surprised by Caleb’s behavior--he’d expected Caleb to “throw it in their faces” or talk about how they owed him for the rescue. And honestly, is it any surprise he expected this? It would have fit Caleb’s m.o. perfectly. Both the rescue itself and Caleb’s selfless behavior afterward were a major turning point for Caleb, a non-transactional approach to his relationship with the gang. And Fjord fully recognized how huge that was, and took care to thank Caleb specifically for it.

But that brings me to the current Avantika/Uk’otoa arc, and all the fascinating Caleb/Fjord interactions it’s brought us, culminating in the madness that was Thursday night’s “blood pact.” I think that, during this arc, the tables have turned. If the Iron Shepherds arc helped repair their relationship because Caleb began to act more like Fjord, then this arc has complicated their relationship because Fjord (as Caleb sees it) has begun to act more like Caleb.

This, I think, has been the subtext lurking beneath Caleb’s repeated, insistent questioning of Fjord about what he wants, what his specific goals are during this quest, and how he wants the Mighty Nein to help achieve them. It makes perfect sense that Caleb has been so frantic to get to the bottom of that question, and that Fjord’s genuinely confused and non-committal answers have been driving him nuts. Because, from Caleb’s perspective, Fjord is finally utilizing the Mighty Nein for their proper purpose: to achieve personal goals.

Fjord must have goals. He must have a specific design for the thing he wants to build with his toolbox (because Caleb does, and Nott does, and Trent Ikithon did, and that’s pretty much the full range of Caleb’s experience). If he would just say what they are, Caleb could get back on familiar ground and frame the whole quest as transactional, offering to help achieve Fjord’s goals in exchange for the same privilege down the line, or refusing and cutting his losses if the risk is too high (which he threatened to do if Fjord tried to awaken Uk’otoa). If, however, Fjord won’t state his goals clearly, he must be shady, untrustworthy, deliberately hiding something, trying to manipulate his “toolbox” to achieve the desired result. It couldn’t possibly be because he never had a plan beyond “Find some answers and assume my family has my back.” It couldn’t possibly be that he wants the decision process to be collaborative, even during his own personal quest, because that’s how a family gets things done...could it?

So we have the two of them constantly, subtly working at cross-purposes. In episode 40, “Dubious Pursuits,” Caleb tells Fjord, “You do what you have to” with regard to the Avantika situation, assuming that Fjord will do the practical, goal-oriented thing: sleep with her to protect himself and the group.

But I suspect what Fjord really wanted in that moment was for someone (or everyone) to offer him help or reassurance, to serve as a buffer between him and this woman he was openly baffled by and terrified of. While Caleb’s go-to strategy when things get tough is to make a plan (often involving “calculated risk”) and implement it without consulting anyone, Fjord’s is to assemble the entire group and solicit their opinions, listening to and weighing every single voice before coming to a consensus. He actually tries to make this very clear to Caleb earlier in the aforementioned conversation: “I need more info, Caleb. I need more data, more knowledge. You read books on this stuff. There has to be someone out there that knows more about this before we just charge in.” When Caleb expresses serious concerns about Fjord’s intentions, Fjord answers, “I have no interest in dealing with matters that predate time as we know it. I’m pretty simple. These days I’ve spent with you are the most exciting of my entire life. I’m not looking to end them, or the world, by frivolously giving up something that I barely understand.” 

This is an answer that Caleb absolutely cannot believe as long as he keeps projecting his own goals and values onto Fjord. Because Fjord is prioritizing his found family over power, over ancient arcane knowledge. Nothing sounds faker to Caleb than the two sentences that might be the most succinct summary of Fjord’s motivations we’ve ever heard: “I’m pretty simple. These days I’ve spent with you are the most exciting of my life.”

What Fjord wanted in that moment was for the M9 to tell him, “We have ideas, we’ve got your back, we’ll stand with you (and against HER) like family should, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” But Caleb couldn’t imagine saying (or hearing) those words. Just imagine for a second if those words had occurred to him or Astrid or Eodwulf sixteen years before our story began.

Instead, Caleb gives Fjord the bleak truth about Avantika: “She’s not going to let go of you. You are a key that she needs.” Sound familiar? Stir up any memories of Caleb’s backstory? Or (even more chillingly) of the way Caleb himself usually views (or at least tries to view) the people he works with?

So Fjord slept with Avantika. Not, as Caleb assumed, because it was “no big deal” in the service of his master plan, but because Caleb implied that he had a responsibility to do so, and Fjord takes his family’s opinions and his responsibilities to them more seriously than anything else. And in episode 43, “In Hot Water,” even Caleb himself figures that out (“He has compromised himself with this woman, for us, for himself, for all of our safety. It is going to be difficult for him”). What made him realize his mistake? Probably the one-on-one conversation he had with Fjord in episode 41, “A Pirate’s Life for Me.” 

I think this conversation is crucial to their relationship. I might go so far as to say that it changes Caleb’s view of Fjord almost as radically as the Iron Shepherds arc changed Fjord’s view of Caleb. Here Caleb is, thinking of Fjord as a levelheaded, competent leader, a friendly guy...but cagey and secretive, potentially dangerous, possibly manipulating them all in the name of his mysterious master plan. And then Fjord pulls Caleb aside and just lays it all out.

“I had to admit I found myself a bit surprised. My initial impression of you was someone a bit timid and maybe reserved; meek even. Your tone, your opinion of what to do with Avantika in order to make sure that we’re okay, it seemed very…calculated. Very…risky. Do you mind me asking if you’ve...have you ever sacrificed anything in order to achieve a greater goal? Because I feel like I am swimming in the deep end and I don’t quite know what I’m doing.”

This little monologue turned Caleb’s entire impression of Fjord and his arc on its head. I think this is when he realized that Fjord isn’t ruthlessly pursuing some deep, dark, secret goal like Caleb himself. Instead, he’s been thrust unwillingly into a situation where he’s suddenly being forced to make the kinds of harrowing decisions that Caleb’s long since conditioned himself to make.

In stark contrast to his confident ultimatums in their previous conversation, Caleb is awkward and skittish, caught off-guard. He dodges Fjord’s question with irrelevant half-truths, but he knows perfectly well how astute it was. And suddenly, he’s not seeing Fjord as a current mirror image of himself, ruthless and calculating; he’s seeing Fjord as a mirror of himself as a child, innocent and uncertain, finding himself in a situation with no right or safe choices, where power and knowledge come with a heavy dose of manipulation and violence.

And who does Fjord come to, with praise for his strategic intellect and keen perception? Who does he trust to fix this fucked-up situation if necessary? Caleb. Because he senses, despite Caleb’s evasions, that he has been in this kind of situation before...and he assumes, in a moment of incredible irony, that this means Caleb is equipped to make the right choice:

Fjord: I think you know what I mean, but in case this thing gets out of hand, can I count on you to right the ship if need be?

Caleb: Keep the group safe?

Fjord: Of course.

Keep the group safe. That’s what Fjord has tasked both himself and Caleb with through the whole damn campaign, and Caleb finally gets it. That Fjord doesn’t want a powerful tool in his arsenal to achieve his own goals; he wants a back-up guardian for the flock of wayward children he’s taken under his wing. This is one of those rare moments (like “The Journey Home”) when Caleb’s brain fully switches from toolbox to family, and the proof is in the way the conversation ends: “I think that woman is going to try to kill you, I really do.”

Why does Caleb hesitate so long and “nervously twiddle” his bit of wire before conveying that message? Because it’s so out of character. Because his own agenda is to use Fjord as a buffer between Avantika and the rest of the group, and this warning directly contradicts that agenda. Because this isn’t an expression of concern about group cohesion or success.

It’s an expression of concern for Fjord.

And at the end of the following episode (episode 42, “A Hole in the Plan,” if we’re still keeping track), Caleb finally does what Fjord wanted all along. He produces a literal manifestation of the thing that Fjord has wanted the M9 to do metaphorically ever since they first encountered Avantika: “I cast Wall of Fire between her and us.” He sends the message, loud and clear, that Fjord will no longer be used as a tool for the protection of the group, because the entire family is worthy of protection. Family, not toolbox.

And Fjord reacts immediately. In episode 43, “In Hot Water,” his focus is on Caleb throughout the fight with Avantika’s crew: moving Caleb out of danger, reviving Caleb when he’s down, and panicking so much that he lets his accent slip because Caleb has done just what Fjord asked, he has kept the group safe, and Fjord, in turn, feels responsible for Caleb, who is part of the family as well.

...And all of this brings me to the most recent episode. To episode 44, which...doesn’t have a title yet. 😛 And to the infamous blood ritual.

Now, there were a million things going on with that ritual (and the spontaneous “pact” that followed). Plenty of people have already written about them more eloquently than I ever could. We had both Fjord and Caleb poking at and manipulating each other, testing each other’s boundaries, each trying to see how far the other would go. We had them acknowledging their shared fascination with power (in a darker echo of Fjord’s constant compliments for Caleb’s magic at the beginning of the campaign), and we had Fjord “7 wisdom” Tusktooth and Caleb “calculated risk” Widogast go into an ill-considered, self-destructive frenzy before Jester’s (and our) horrified eyes.

But to me, for all the common ground they discovered in that scene, for all the “blood brothers” hype of their gory handshake, the fundamental misunderstanding still remains. Caleb, despite all the recent progress he’s made toward understanding and even adopting Fjord’s “Mighty Nein=family” perspective, thinks that he’s finally discovered the real Fjord: reckless, ambitious, willing to trade favors with Caleb in order to pursue knowledge and power, placing the two of them on exactly the same page. He tries to lay this out for Fjord right before the bloodbath, admitting that he has goals of his own and asking if Fjord will be there to help him accomplish them.

And Fjord’s response? “Always.”

It’s a subtle moment. I’m pretty sure Caleb didn’t pick up on it. He still viewed the situation as a trade, and when Fjord ended the ritual prematurely, when he took Caleb’s hand and said, “We understand each other,” Caleb thought they were sealing a pact that was contingent on his willingness to bleed.

In Fjord’s mind? It was the opposite.

This was never about demanding a trade from Caleb (or vice versa). They were both bleeding on that altar. The question they both kept asking each other (“Aren’t you curious?”) wasn’t about pressuring each other into an unwanted situation; it was about acknowledging their shared curiosity and acting on it. It wasn’t Caleb working toward Fjord’s goals so that Fjord will eventually work toward Caleb’s; it was about the two of them working together, in every situation, to accomplish the goals of the group (even when that means backing off from their own ambitions when the risk becomes too great, as demonstrated by the fact that he ended that ritual when the cost became too high).

Fjord didn’t promise to work toward Caleb’s goals if Caleb worked toward his. He promised to work toward Caleb’s goals, full-stop. Always. Always. He’s been working for Caleb--and the rest of the Mighty Nein--since they first became a unit. Barring a blatant betrayal of the group (like he feared during Scrollgate), he’s never had any intention of doing anything else, or any conditions that apply to that assistance. Family, not toolbox.

Caleb has spent the entire campaign trying to bargain for something that has always been offered to him freely. Fjord told him “You’re safe here” before the M9 even hit the road together, and he told him “Always” before a single drop of blood was spilled.

[shirtlesssammy]

8x02: What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

Then:

Dean Winchester is back from Purgatory, and he’s tan, rested, and looking better than ever. Oh, and he’s BFFs with a vampire.

Now:

Chicago, IL

An elderly man heads to a bank to access his safe deposit box. He’s had it for a verrrry long time. He opens the box while the bank attendant is still there. 

She sees what he pulls out and it appears to be a very old bone. She’s taken aback but remains professional. She asks if there’s anything else she can help with and gets hit with the blood cannon. 

Sam, Dean, and Kevin are on the run and Kevin wants to check in on his mom. Dean hates the idea. He knows that Crowley is just waiting for Kevin to show up at her house. Kevin just wants to make sure she’s ok. Dean wants to find the tablet and blast Crowley away. Then it’s all “sunshine and sandy beaches.” #season15beachvacation He relents though and they head off to Linda Tran’s house in Michigan.

 In their completely inconspicuous car, the trio stakes out Mama Tran’s house.

They see her from the window. She seems fine. Dean then points out the mail carrier has put mail in her box three times already. And the gardener is over-watering the plants. Demons. 

They corner and kill both demons (it’s moments like this that make me sad about how many humans the brothers have killed with that knife. RIP, Carl the mail carrier). 

Mrs. Tran is inside talking with a friend when there’s a knock on her door. She opens it to find Kevin. Their beautiful reunion is briefly interrupted when the brothers throw holy water on her to make sure she’s not possessed. Resume hug. 

Sam and Dean check out the house because they smell sulfur. The demon possessing Mrs. Tran’s friend starts to escape (and tell Crowley where Kevin is) but Sam reverses the exorcism spell and then Dean stabs the friend. Uh, teamwork? 

Later, they try to explain to Mrs. Tran what Kevin’s life has been like for the past year. “Prophet of the lord? It does have a nice ring to it.” No, Linda, no it does not. She agrees to go with them, but not to a safe house. They have to find the demon tablet. The boys argue that it’s too dangerous, but Mama Tran isn’t budging.

Time to get inked up!

Next they head to a locker in Wyoming. The tablet is there though. Cut to later, the boys are in their fed suits and are interviewing a security guard who informs them of the break-ins with all the lockers. The guy who did it is in lock up downtown. The boys head there next. 

In the interrogation room, the brothers play Good Cop/Dude Who Spent a Year in Purgatory and Would Do Anything to Track Down His Angel Cop. In other words, Sam asks questions, Dean flashes back to Purgatory. Benny and him have captured a monster and Dean asks it, “Where’s the angel?” In the present day, Dean takes his tie off and strangles the prisoner while pulling the demon knife on him.

For Pure Science:

The man tells him about a pawn shop. We cut back to Purgatory, where the monster tells Dean of a stream in a clearing. “You’ll find your angel there,” he finishes. (You’ll find your angel there...you’Ll FInd YoUR anGeL thErE...YOU’LL FIND YOUR ANGEL THERE. coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool) 

Dean kills him. They leave the holding cell without Dean killing the man. 

At the pawn shop, the surly shop attendant is decidedly unhelpful until Mrs. Tran lays some hard truths about his newly acquired car that is clearly not registered. 

They get the address to where the tablet is headed next. It’s there that a dapper dressed man greets Kevin and introduces himself as Beau to Kevin’s mom. He’s not here to take Kevin. He has an invitation for him to an exclusive auction of rare items --the tablet included. 

Dean asks what they have to bid. They don’t have anything. Then Sam looks at the Impala and the brotherhood crumbles to pieces, end of show. 

Sam then realizes that the items will be on display before the auction. All they have to do is have Kevin memorize the spell. 

They head to the auction and take a look at the items up for sale. Mjolnir! And the tablet which is covered from full view. So much for their plan. 

And then Crowley shows up. Just great. 

On the plus side, Crowley hits on Linda Tran. On the extra plus side, she hauls off and smacks him in the face, warning him away from Kevin. I love her. Dean levels some serious side eye at Crowley, but gets waylaid from the group by a young man in a garish Wiener Hut uniform. It’s Alfie, also known as Samandriel!

Samandriel is an angel, and is there to procure and protect the word of God. He asks about what happened to Castiel. “We iced Dick Roman and got a one way rocket ride to Purgatory for our trouble.” Dean then replies to Samandriel’s subsequent inquiries about Castiel’s escape by clenching his jaw dramatically. Oof. 

“There are some in Heaven who still believe, despite his mistakes, Castiel’s heart was always in the right place,” Samandriel says and I die a little. “Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem,” he follows up with and I wake up six months later buried in the earth.

Dean is also FINE with this emotional trigger and definitely does NOT flash back to Purgatory and that one time he finally found Cas after tracking him for like a year. 

He spots Cas in a clearing and calls out to him. Castiel looks around with apprehension before standing and facing Dean. There’s a hug! “Nice peach fuzz,” I mutter in my underground coffin. “Nice...peach fuzz.” (Boris: I’m still having war flashbacks to Cas’s fist clench here.)

Dean introduces Benny to Cas and asks Cas if he’s feeling okay. Castiel gets the implication immediately. “I’m perfectly sane,” he tells Dean. “But, then, 94% of psychotics think they're perfectly sane, so I guess we'd have to ask ourselves, ‘what is sane?’” Valid! 

Benny gets right to the point, asking Cas why he flapped away. Dean defends Cas and we get a peek at the story he’s imagined for Cas during their separation. Cas clearly got jumped by a monster that first day but has now kicked its ass and...lives by the water now? “I ran away,” Cas says abruptly. 

Disbelief and anger emerge in Dean. “I prayed to you, Cas. Every night!” Cas defends his actions. He’s being hunted by everything in Purgatory but mostly...he’s been hunted by leviathans. His goal in running was to keep them away from Dean. 

Castiel tells them to leave but Dean tries to make a case for a different plan. He’s got a way out, and he’s taking Cas with him. 

“I need you,” he tells Cas. And the leviathans can fucking BRING. IT. “Let me bottom line it for you. I’m not leaving here without you. Understand?”

Castiel looks at Dean and, with weight to his words says, “I understand.”

For Emotional Reunion Science:

Back in the present, oh my god where even WERE we? I have been on a journey, my friends, and I have SEEN THINGS. 

The auction starts. The Winchester crew fumble in their wallets like total noobs while Crowley sits back by Samandriel and taunts everyone. When the bidding for the first item starts on “three tons of dwarven gold” the Winchesters and Trans realize that they are in way over their heads. (Soooo when do we meet gold-smithing dwarves?) Dean heads off to the restroom which here is code for “following a demon and looking for the secret treasure storage vault.” Dean handily pickpockets the demon, swipes the key, and opens the door.

The room has a couple of demons in it, and one very discomfited Dean Winchester on its threshold. Wherps. The tablet is there, though. Back in the auction room, they set into auctioning off Thor’s hammer. Sweet. Mr. Villi from the cold open throws out a bid of a frost giant’s fingerbone and when that fails, tries “five-eighths of a virgin.”

Dean returns, mutters to Sam that “plan C tanked,” and Crowley tells him that “you should try plan "D" for dumbass.” I’m SORRY for quoting this whole episode but I love it. 

The Word of God comes to the auction block and Crowley and Samandriel throw out bids, including:

Three BILLION dollars (cue Austin Powers pinkie finger)

The Mona Lisa

The REAL Mona Lisa (where she’s topless - that explains the smile)

Vatican City

Alaska (but the auctioneer is NOT sold on Palin’s wilderness and WOW a Palin joke omg)

The moon (“You think a man named Buzz gets to go into space without making a deal?”)

The auctioneer mourns that the reserve price has not been met. He’s adding an item: Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord. Kevin gets zapped to the front of the room, bound in magical chains. Linda offers up her material possessions - her savings and her house - but the auctioneer isn’t into it. Then Linda bids her soul.

Crowley offers up as many souls as they want, and Samandriel announces that angels guard the souls in Heaven and won’t use them for barter. The owner is enticed by Linda’s sacrifice. Her soul is everything to her, and is therefore the most valuable thing to him. Crowley bids his soul and the owner laughs in his face and tells him that he doesn’t have a soul. Ouch.

When the bidding closes, the Winchesters talk to Linda about losing her soul. It’s no big deal, “you’ll just wish you were dead.” Um. Thanks, guys. Good talk. She asks for a minute alone to compose herself before handing it over. 

Samandriel approaches her and offers to protect Kevin, but she quickly puts him in his place. She watched a whole flight get killed and Kevin kidnapped. So thanks but no thanks...she’s putting her money on the Winchesters. 

Linda gets ready to sell her soul when Dean notices something odd on Linda’s arm. A burn mark. Her eyes glow red and Crowley says hello with her mouth. Beau, the smiling salesman, is in cahoots with Crowley. He burned the anti-possession tattoo off her arm, then Crowley jumped in and took control. Y I K E S. 

Crowley grabs the tablet and Dean brandishes the demon-killing knife. The Winchesters defend Kevin from Crowley, who splits with the tablet. Dean races after Crowley and Sam protects Kevin while Beau shoots up the place. He’s leveled his gun on Kevin when Sam comes out of NOWHERE and smites him with Thor’s hammer.

GLORY GLORY! Mr. Villi asks for the hammer back, but Sam looks at it, then asks where he got five-eighths of a virgin. He smites Mr. Villi in retribution. YEAH SAM. 

Crowley and Dean fight and Kevin races for his mom when Crowley smokes out and emerges moments later wearing his usual body. He carefully dusts off his clothes, taunts the Trans, and warns them about the Winchesters. “‘Cause the Winchesters – well, they have a habit of using people up and watching them die bloody.” Urg. Kevin, you deserved better. 

Kevin’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders. He shuts Dean’s platitudes down, because Dean tried to kill his mom when she was possessed. Life ain’t all desaturated extremes, Dean Bean.

The Winchesters head out to give Kevin some alone time with his mom. Sam asks Dean if he would have really killed Linda. Yeah. Dean totally would have done it to kill Crowley. “What’s one more nightmare, right?” Oh Dean bby no. Sam gives him sad eyes in response. 

A few moments later they head back into the room. Kevin and Linda are gone but there’s a note. Dean reads between the lines. Kevin will never trust the Winchesters because the moment Dean doesn’t need him, Kevin’s gonna die. (I’m just gonna...pound my head on a brick wall for a while, okay?) 

Dean then flashes back to Purgatory and Castiel calling out to him desperately as their hands separate. 

______________________________

I’ll Bid a Doodle of Dean and Cas Kissing for These Quotes:

All we need to do is find the tablet, whip up the spell, and – boom! – sunshine and sandy beaches.

What? Like it’s my first tattoo.

You hid the Word of God in a diaper bag?

Rest assured that we have a strict "no casting, no cursing, no supernaturally flicking the two of you against the wall just for the fun of it" policy.

Is that even a planet anymore?

I think too much heart was always Castiel's problem.

You know what's better than one private island? Two private islands.

I don’t wanna hear any more of your crappy speeches.

_____________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[ofsinnersandsaints]

WE’LL BE THE STARS

rating - G word count: 3136, complete AO3

The Mighty Nein set up camp a little off the road, and while Caleb’s little bubble would keep them safe and warm they’d all gotten into the routine and almost homely habits of setting up camp: Beau would gather firewood while Caleb cast his spells. Jester and Nott took care of the animals, Caduceus always cooked.

Fjord and Yasha walked the perimeter.

Together, they took almost a half an hour walking through the woods surrounding the place where they’d sleep, making sure there weren’t any fresh tracks or bandits hiding in the brush. Sure, the Mighty Nein had taken care of the Syphilis Bandits more than once, but Fjord would never risk another kidnapping.

And he could tell by the way Yasha’s jaw was set and how she kept her sword in her hand she felt the same.

Never again.

Eventually they made their way back to camp to see the group hanging around the fire, eating whatever Caduceus had managed to whip up in the middle of nowhere.

Yasha veered off towards the bubble, mumbling something about sharpening her sword, and Fjord had barely blinked before Jester was walking around the campfire towards him. “Oh good, you’re back! Caduceus made stew.”

“Any meat in it?” Fjord asked as he accepted the proffered bowl.

“I put some of the jerky in it,” Jester answered sitting down and because Fjord couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing, he sat down next to her. They were a few feet from the rest of the group, everyone taking the time before sleep to wind down. “Caduceus still doesn’t like cooking meat, so he took out his portion and then I put in the meat and softened it up for the rest of us.”

“Thanks,” he started eating and Jester took a few bites next to him.

Jester was a talker by nature, but they’d spent enough time in each other’s company she could calm down a bit around him. Those first few days they’d traveled together had been almost nothing but a constant stream of chatter, but he could he almost feel her calming beside him.

“That was pretty impressive, by the way. The way you got that miner guy to listen to you.”

Fjord paused, spoon half way to his mouth. “Oh. Uh, thanks Jester. I appreciated your backup, Lieutenant.”

Jester grinned at the title, “No problem. It was really cool, you know? How you were so ‘grr.’ If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were super scary. Who were you pretending be?”

She’d slipped in that last question on the end of a string of words like she was trying to hide it. “Say again?”

“Well, you’re very strong and very smart and you can be intimidating when you want to be,” Fjord shook his head at the list of compliments, not entirely sure why Jester insisted on placating him with niceties, but was embarrassed by them just the same. “But I don’t think it’s who you are, and you’re so good at mimicking people that I just thought, you know, you were mimicking someone in particular. I was wondering who.”

“Oh.” He’d used voices around the rest of the group, so they knew he could fake an accent, but Jester was the only one who knew how well. It made sense she thought he was doing an imitation of someone, but didn’t explain why she’d been so coy about it. “Well, no. I wasn’t thinkin’ of anyone specific, just assholes in general. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.”

Fjord shook his head, she was a terrible liar. “Jester.”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence and he had to stop himself from being amused by the tact.

“You know what,” he grumbled, looking down at his bowl so she wouldn’t see him smile. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, I just thought, you know, if it was a specific person, I could tell the Traveler about them.”

Fjord looked up at that, surprised by the answer. “Why? What would the Traveler do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if he’d actually do anything, but I thought if he was bored one day or something he could drop in on someone who was mean to you and tattoo a dick on their forehead or something.”

“Is that what you’d do?”

“Yep,” she tucked her knees under her dress and wrapped her arms around it. He knew she wasn’t cold, it took a lot for Jester to even think about cold, but he had to resist the knee jerk instinct to offer her his coat or something just the same. “Because that’s what friends do.”

He was briefly confused, and more than a little amused. “They draw dicks on their childhood bullies’ foreheads?”

“Tattoo,” she corrected, with emphasis. “They tattoo dicks.”

“Naturally.”

“And not bullies. Or not just bullies, because you weren’t bullying that guy, Fjord. You were just a little condescending which I bet has happened to you lot because people are dicks. Hence the tattoos.” She smiled at him and shrugged a little. “I don’t really know what friends do. The Traveler was my first friend and he didn’t really need me to fight bullies for him.”

“I don’t need you to fight bullies for me either, Jester. I can fight them myself if I want to.”

“I know,” she allowed, but her smile faltered a little and Fjord thought about touching her to give her some comfort, but felt unsure about it. Funny, they’d spent the day practically plastered against each other on Yarnball, but putting his hand on hers felt bigger somehow. More intimate. Like crossing a line he couldn’t go back from. “You’re strong and you’ve got magic, but…”

When it didn’t seem like she was going to finish he pressed, “But what?”

“But when you were little you didn’t have any of that. And if we’d known each other when we were younger you would have been my first friend instead of my second, and I could have fought the bullies for you.” She looked up to meet his gaze, lavender eyes lit by firelight and so earnest he wondered what it was like to feel so freely. “So, I figured, better late than never, right?”

“Jester,” he started, and the word came out too soft and too warm, and there couldn’t be any way she didn’t hear all the heartbeats behind it.

“It’s stupid,” and she moved like she might get up but he stopped her with a hand. The skin to skin contact sent a quick and sharp spark up his arm. He’d gotten too good at hiding behind the masks, the accent, she had no idea what she meant to him.

“No, Jester, it’s not stupid. In fact, it might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“That’s just sad, Fjord.”

Because she said it like an admonition, he grinned. “How ‘bout this, when we come across Sabien, you can tattoo a dick on his forehead.”

Jester clapped her hands together, her legs falling so she was sitting cross-legged. “Oh, good! I’ll have to practice a lot so I can give him a really good dick.”

“What constitutes a good dick?” Fjord asked, his eyes widening when he realized what he’d said. He stammered as he tried to cover the double entendre, “I mean…In this instance, with the tattooing, what constitutes as good?”

“Oh, I think the more realistic the better,” she answered as if this was something she’d thought about before. “Lots of detail.”

“All the veins, and hair and stuff,” Fjord added sagely. “I think that’d be appropriate.”

“It’ll be so gross, it’s going to be awesome.”

From the other side of the fire Caleb popped his head out of the hut, making sure to keep his body inside so the spell didn’t dissipate. It was a handy thing, that spell. Fjord wished he could do something half as useful with his magic. “We should probably all be getting to bed, ja? It’s getting late and we have to fight giants tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe we’re fighting multiple giants,” Nott complained as she headed for the hut. “Whose dumb idea was this anyway?”

“Pretty sure everyone’s,” Beau deadpanned, getting up.

From their spot on the ground Fjord shifted his gaze from the group to Jester, he wasn’t quite ready to get up and walk away. Jester studied him in the flickering light, he could see her eyes moving over his face and then she turned to Caleb. “Fjord and I are going to take first watch.”

Caleb looked confused as Beau stopped next to him, “But in the bubble we don’t need-Ow! What was that for?”

Beau couldn’t fake innocence, so she didn’t even try. Instead, Fjord watched as she looked Caleb in the eye and outright lied. “You had a bug on you.”

He looked like he was about to argue but Beau pushed Caleb inside, then let Caduceus in first. “You guys have fun,” she called, a knowing smile at the edge of her lips. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Fjord glared at Beau but the effect was likely lost in the dark of the night with only the flames' illumination. Beau only grinned and slipped into the hut, leaving him and Jester outside by themselves.

“If you’re tired-“ he started.

“I’m not,” she interrupted with the kind of certainty she held in nearly every other aspect of her life. She leaned back on her elbows, tilting her head up to sky where it was inky black and covered in glitter. Wasn’t that how she’d first described it all those nights ago? The first time they’d been on their own in the wilderness.

Jester had looked up at the sky, no town lights or torches to dim the beauty of the night, and marveled at how clear the stars were. “It’s like the sky is covered in glitter,” she’d whispered reverently. She’d used that same tone when she’d talked about the jellyfish, and while many of the sailors Fjord had known would have laughed at the description, Fjord had only been awed because there had been earnest wonder and amazement in her voice.

Her words, the way she’d spoken them, had been exactly what he’d felt the first time he’d seen the stars out on the ocean.

He just hadn’t been brave enough to say it out loud.

“Want me to tell you a story?”

Bringing himself back to the present Fjord looked at Jester who was carefully watching him, and he wondered how long he’d been staring at her while he remembered that night less than a year ago.

He smiled at the suggestion and it felt a little bit rueful and more than a little affectionate on his lips. “Sure, Jester.”

She smiled, she was always smiling, and laid down on her back and Fjord watched her. “Aren’t we supposed to be on watch?”

The look she gave him was unimpressed, “Didn’t you and Yasha walk around before we ate?���

“Yeah?”

“And everyone’s safe inside the bubble?”

“Yeah?”

She shrugged against the dirt and grass, “Then I’d say we’re pretty darn safe.”

Fjord opened his mouth to ask why she’d offered to take first watch and caught her stare, the realization coming over him slowly like a tide. “Right, uh, good point.”

He stretched out beside her, crossing his ankles and resting his hands on his stomach as he looked up at the stars. With a keen eye he studied the constellations, ticking off the names to himself and then dismissing them until he found one he liked.

This was something they’d done since the first night. Jester hadn’t been able to see the stars very clearly from her mama’s house. There was so much light in the city and from the home itself she could mostly only see the moon when it was bright and high enough. But out in the wilds, once she realized that not only did Fjord know the constellations, but had names and stories for them, she’d pestered him almost every night for a story from the sky.

Inevitably she’d interrupt him half way through, sticking in plot points and characters the original tellings didn’t have, but more often than not he enjoyed her versions. They usually had more romance, more unicorns, but they were always, always happier.

Eventually they’d gotten to the point where he’d just point out a cluster of stars, tell her the name, and then let her go to town. He’d told her at one point she should write them down, maybe draw them out, but she’d waved away the suggestion telling him she was just having fun and why would anyone want to read her stories anyway?

Fjord shifted next to her, their shoulders nearly brushing, and pointed up to a host of stars off to their right, just barely visible over the tree line. “There, it’s seven stars, see the almost straight line? Four across?”

“Yes, I see them.”

“Then there’s one on top, one of bottom, and one kind of in front of the four?”

She was silent for a moment and he gave her the chance to see the image in her head, “What’s it supposed to be?”

“Crossbow,” he answered.

“I see it! What’s the name?”

“Holden’s Bolt.”

“That’s boring,” she scolded.

“I didn’t name it.”

“What’s the story?”

Fjord turned his head, surprised and unsettled by how close her face was to his. How did she always smell a little bit like cinnamon? “I thought that was your job,” and maybe his voice was a couple of octaves lower than it usually was, and maybe Vandran’s accent slipped a little and the Real Fjord shone through.

It was hard to hide himself around her.

“I’ve decided I want to know what the story was so I know how to make it better.”

“Whatever you say, Jellyfish.”

Her eyes narrowed briefly at the nickname which had slipped out of his mouth, natural as anything, and then her eyes widened with something akin to awe. The curve of her lips lifting so slowly it was like watching the moon rise of the ocean, and when she showed her teeth the stars came out.

He felt that smile somewhere near his soul which proved it was still, somehow, just a little bit his.

“Holden was a warrior,” Fjord recalled. “I don’t remember why, there was probably a great and terrible story as to why he became a fighter.”

Jester smiled, a little wry, “People who are perfectly happy and perfectly normal don’t fight dragons.”

Fjord laughed, “Fair point. So one of the gods, I don’t remember which one-“

“You don’t know much about this,” she pointed, sounding as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“The whole idea of this game is for you to tell the story, I specifically picked one I didn’t know much about.”

“Oh, well. That was very sweet of you, Fjord.” She scrunched her nose, her whole face shifting in thought. “Okay. It’s not Holden’s Bolt.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s Rosamund’s Revenge.”

Fjord smiled, already intrigued. “Do tell.”

Jester went on to create a wild story of a woman named Rosamund who, unsurprisingly, fell in love with a dashing half-orc named Ivan who was captured by a devilish witch. Determined to get her love back, she’d already bought the wedding dress Jester had explained, she taught herself how to fight and bought the best crossbow she could find and went out into the woods.

There was a range of obstacles for Rosamund to get through, and Nugget made a small cameo as a dog who led the way to the witch’s cottage. Inside was the body of Ivan, cold from death, and in fit of a rage Rosamund shot the bolt through the witch’s heart, but the witch was cruel and vengeful to last. Before she died, she cursed the heroine with eternal life so she���d have to live forever without her love.

After the witch had perished Rosamund ran to her beloved and cried over his dead body. A spell had been cast on Ivan so he didn’t wither away and Rosamund couldn’t imagine burying him, or leaving him, but she knew he wouldn’t have wanted to stay in the cottage forever, grieving him.

So she cried her tears, she mourned her loss, and then she took her crossbow to defend those who had no one to care for them. She had lost her heart, and vowed no one else would lose their while she lived.

And she was going to live forever.

It had been ten years of defending cities and towns from dragons and giants and evil and she was tired so she did what she always did when she needed a rest from the fight, she went back to the witch’s cottage which she now considered her own.

But this time, Ivan was not lying on the bed where he had rested since his death.

He was sitting on it.

Ivan lived!

Because Rosamund had love so purely and so courageously, because she had fought so hard for those in need the gods had rewarded her by bringing Ivan back to life with the promise that he would not die again until she did.

“So they’re immortal?” Fjord clarified when Jester paused in her story.

“Yes,” Jester nodded, turning on her side to face him. “But they got bored fighting, tired of always bleeding, and who wants to be angry for the rest of eternity? So Rosamund put her crossbow in the sky and they explored the world. Sometimes they’re farmers, sometimes sailors,” she poked him with her finger, waggling her eyebrows until he smiled. “They change it up every few decades, and every once in a while she’ll pull down her crossbow and use it again, but most of the time they just spend their time together, digging their toes into the sand and staring at the ocean. The witch had cursed her with eternity and Rosamund was glad for it.”

“Her revenge was a happy life,” Fjord realized, amazed at how she’d managed to do that.

“Isn’t it the best kind of revenge?” she asked genuinely.

“Yeah, Jester. I think it is.”

Her smile was soft and he tucked it away, catalogued with all the smiles he had carefully organized and labelled in the back of his mind, deep in his heart.

“We should probably go to bed.”

Fjord couldn’t argue, he was tired. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

He got up first, turning to hold his hand out to her which she accepted easily enough, but when they walked towards the hut she didn’t let go, and neither did he until they walked inside.

Turns out, they did do something Beau wouldn’t.

[disasterhumans]

I had a surprisingly strong reaction to Marisha's inclusion of "I Am Here," on her Beau playlist, so naturally I felt compelled to write a thousand words about it.

I open up my heart You can love me or not There's no such thing as sin Let it all come right in

Marisha chose this song as Beau's tribute and remembrance of Molly, and these opening lines certainly reflect something of Molly's general philosophy. As Taliesin has said, "There's a way of both not giving a fuck about what people think, but giving a fuck about people." Molly was always open with his affection, and generous with it. Beau, in contrast, closed herself off from the world as a coping mechanism. She realized just a little too late how much she actually appreciated Molly's openness. We tend to focus on Beau's resolve to "leave places better than she found them," after Molly's death, but I think her increased vulnerability, and willingness to be emotionally supportive (even when she hides it behind bravado) in recent episodes has also been a result of a shift in perspective prompted by Molly's death.

I wanna make some mistakes, I wanna sleep in the mud

We know from things both Marisha and Beau have said that Beau has internalized the idea that she's a "fuck up." The desire to "make some mistakes," is probably fraught for Beau. It's one way you could characterize her criminal past and her general rebelling against her father. But there's also a part of her that's always just a little bit terrified that she's going to prove everyone's worst suspicions about her correct. I think she wants the freedom to be able to fuck up sometimes without it meaning that she is a fuck up. That's something that's come up a few times in smaller moments (Twiggy: I don't really make the best decisions, Beau: I can relate; "Oh no! My actions affect other people!" from episode 45). Beau has been working hard to "leave every place better than she found it," but she's also been better at cutting herself some slack, and leaving herself room to make mistakes and learn in the process ("Having one transformative experience doesn't mean you're going to be better overnight. Being better is something you have to work at, I guess," from ep 36). She doesn't generally excoriate herself when she makes a mistake, but she'll acknowledge it and try to move forward from there. This has actually been true since before episode 26/7. Her whole "learning to be polite" thing with Fjord carried across several episodes, and included her 1) willingly deciding she needed to apologize to Caleb (even though Fjord didn't really think she needed to), and 2) knowing she would need help in the execution, and then asking for it. And while Beau's general demeanor hasn't changed, it's so apparent how much those "lessons," did really help with Beau's ability to interact with people. (I'm still not over the fact that Beau apologized roughly five times in episode 45, and all of them were genuine.)

I wanna swim in the flood, I wanna fuck til I'm done I like whiskey on ice, I like sun in my eyes 

These lines reflect something of both Molly's and Beau's approaches to life. Beau once told Jester and Caleb that all she wants to do is "make a ton of money and drink a lot of booze, “ (ep 11). But where Molly's hedonism was in some part due to a "life is short," mentality, Beau's pursuit of happiness and simple pleasures has something of a desperate edge to it. (As Marisha puts it: "She has never had an extended moment of happiness her whole life, and she's still searching for it.")

It's also worth noting here that one of the ways Beau chose to honor Molly's memory was to have a lot of sex. Learning how to “open up [her] heart,” in order to truly appreciating the joy of living in the world is just as important a thing for Beau to be striving for as her dedication to leaving places better than she found them. While it’s true that the two times Beau has (canonically) had sex didn’t really involve emotional connection (debatable in regards to Keg, though), I think they still represented her trying to break down some of her walls. Would Beau have felt compelled enough to proposition Keg if Molly hadn’t passed? I don’t think there’s a way to know the answer to that question, but it certainly seemed to factor into her decision in the moment.

I wanna burn it all down, so let's start a fire I wanna be lost, so lost that I'm found Naked and laughing with my blood on the ground

Much as Beau claims to have no real goals or motivations, she's clearly ready to fuck shit up and tear shit down when presented the opportunity. She has an almost knee-jerk opposition to authority in any and all forms (except maybe Fjord's captaining). It's one of the things that draws her to Dairon and the Expositors. I think it's part of what motivated her to help the Knights of Requital (even if she was also significantly motivated by money), and it's what made her such a terrifying (if somewhat unexpected) adversary to Avantika. Just because Beau is trying to commit herself to putting good into the world doesn't mean it's not going to come with a fair amount of chaos and destruction (e.g. freeing the Marid).

I am here, I am here I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear I know that I'll be ready when the devil is near I am here, I am here All of this wrong, but I'm still right here

I love that the song Marisha chose for Beau's memory of Molly is so much about being present in the face of tragedy. "I am here," can mean so many things. It can be a declaration of presence, or of defiance and resolve ("all of the this wrong, but I'm still right here"). For Beau, there may even be some survivor's guilt mixed in. She's still "here" when Molly isn't, because he was trying to protect her. What are the chances even a small part of her believes she doesn't deserve to be here?

Regardless, one thing remains: the worst has happened, but Beauregard is made of tenacity. Murder and kidnap her friends and she'll all but kill you with her bare hands. Beau may not be caring or soft in traditional ways, but she's fiercely protective of her friends and committed to keeping them safe.

I don't have the answers but the question is clear Let me ask you Where does everybody go when they go? 

In Marisha's write-up for this song, she writes, "[this was Beau's] first real lesson that in this world and in this life that they're living, if you hold onto something that you want to say to someone, you might lose the opportunity forever, at any moment." This leads me to believe that this is the first time Beau has really had to grapple with the death of someone close to her. Even if Beau intellectually understands what death "is," actually wrestling with the knowledge that someone is just gone is a lot to process. I'm honestly not sure whether this would be easier or harder to grapple with in a world where there's proof of gods and an afterlife. I would imagine that people still wonder "where do you go when you die," and I don't think those answers would feel any clearer even if they factually exist.

May the light be upon me May I feel in my bones that I am enough I can make anywhere home

"My I feel in my bones that I am enough," is one of the lines that prompted me to write this post to begin with. I kept wanting to pick a favorite bit of the song before realizing how well all of it fits Beau. But this line, specifically, breaks my heart precisely because we know that Beau doesn't think she's enough. In fact, she often seems to be afraid of the very prospect--she feels compelled to couch her good intentions and kind gestures in self-effacing bravado and deprecation. She so desperately wants to be "enough," but is so used to being too much, or too abrasive for others that she has a tendency to put up walls to mask how much she seeks validation. The Mighty Nein--and Fjord and Jester in particular--were the first people to see past that and accept it. Fjord and Jester are also particularly good at seeing past her tough exterior in her more genuine moments (e.g. Fjord recognizing when Beau's actually being nice, even when it comes across as sarcastic; or Jester understanding what Beau is offering when she tries to downplay her ability to be a 'best friend,' in episode 46). Of the Mighty Nein, Beau has the fewest emotional ties to a given "home," (with the possible exception of Fjord), and has clearly decided that the Mighty Nein--wherever they are, and wherever they might go--are her home.

I can think of one thousand places much worse than this

And who wants to bet that even in their scariest moments, everything she's encountered with the Mighty Nein is still vastly better than where she started out?

[alitheamateur]

Lights, Camera, Action?

TOMMY CONLON ONE-SHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Slightly dominating male. Public sex.

Summary: Tommy is coaxed into making a PR appearance for an upcoming tournament, and needs to let off some steam before smiling for the cameras. When you deny him, that need only grows for Tommy, leaving him no choice but to take matters into his own hands. 

Word Count: 2,395

You had been dabbling recently with an edgier sense of fashion, and after careful consideration (and several grueling hours of window shopping) decided on a timeless black strapless jumpsuit. The fit wasn’t tackily form fitting, but hugged your waist tastefully and ever-so-slightly complimented your modest chest. Thankful for Tommy’s sufficient height, you slid on the backstrap of a rather heighted stiletto while tucking a loose wave of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck me....” you heard his gravelly undertone huff from behind, sounding as if the sight he beheld literally exhausted him to look at.

“Tommy Conlon!” Standing straight, you turned to discover his sulky arms crossed in the entryway of the bathroom, shaking his head with a sinful upward turn of his mouth. 

He was a vision every day in faded sweats sitting on the v-cut of his hips, and a probably torn t-shirt. But the man was absolutely murderous in a suit on the rare occasion he was somehow coaxed into wearing one. No one forced Tommy to do a single thing that he didn’t want to, but occasionally you could pout your mouth just right, and maybe persuade him into a thing or two.

“That was a demand, not an observation, y’know…” he said, sauntering toward you with a lip pinched between his slightly uneven top row of teeth. He began to pull lightly at the top button of his crisp white shirt that contrasted his tanned skinned like sunshine and moonlight, readying himself for the very act he had suggested.

“Ah, ah, ah! Freeze,” you warned him with one ample finger to the exposed, hot flesh between his collarbones. “We’re already late, and I didn’t buy this outfit for nothing.”

The pair of you were to attend a PR event for a summer tournament Tommy was participating in, and his trainer threatened to pull him from the card if he couldn’t put on a professional face and make his requested appearance. So tonight, he’d resentfully wag you around on his arm, rolling his gray eyes every time the cameras flashed, and you would definitely take shameless advantage of the impressively stocked open bar.

He chivalrously escorted you down the brick stairs of your duplex and opened the passenger side of his newly purchased, classic model Mustang. It was a purchase he had made hastily with one of the first checks from an impressive victory, and spent overly excessive amounts of time rebuilding it to it’s full potential. The dark hues of the four-wheeled stallion suited Tommy faultlessly. Dark, potentially dangerous, and seeping with raw sexuality.

His thick fingers brushed away your long, chestnut waves to one side exposing a July sun-kissed shoulder where he placed a sticky, lingering kiss. You heard an airy chuckle in close proximity to your ear, no doubt knowing it was a reaction to the rash-like chills he instigated all over your body.

“How you gonna hold out on my lookin’ like this, Y/N? You know I ain’t gonna be able to behave…” the always animalistic aroused man filled his grasping paw with the swell of your taut backside.

Tommy was uncontrollably sexual from nearly sunrise, to sunset. Not that it was a complaint per say to have the likes of a statuesque man such as him fawning over you constantly. But you were all too familiar with the twisted, sensual games he liked to play when you attempted the valiant effort to muster up the courage and turn him down. The night was still very young, and already Tommy had on his best game face.

Upon starting the car to back carefully from your driveway, he leaned to place a hot hand just north of your knee. You assumed it was his request to hold your hand on the drive, but when the veined hand in question squeezed agonizingly tight, and deliberate you knew those suspicions were far from correct. Shifting in your seat, you mocked your movements to appear as if merely adjusting into a more comfortable position, careful to stifle the airy squeak of desire from your throat. But, resulting from the nervous squirms, your seatbelt strap had minimally exposed a teasing peak of your breast, pulling open the u-shaped sweetheart neck of your jumpsuit. As if smelling out the accidental uncovering of cleavage, Tommy lifted finger to trace teasingly upon the curve of your bosom leaving one hand safely on the wheel.

“You tryin’ to get me to pull this car over, are ya’?” Tommy wiggled awkwardly in his own seat, drawing attention to the very clear outline of the pulsing member thru the confines of his slacks. He licked his wanton mouth like a lapping kitten, and laid his head frustratingly upon the headrest.

Unconsciously, your mind began testing strategies on how he could take you in the car considering the inconvenience of your one-piece outfit, when you suddenly felt a whispering breeze of air on your chest. Taking advantage of your clearly distracted state, Tommy had finagled a way to pull down your top and was now rolling and tugging at your standing nipples.

“To… Tom. Tommy, are you crazy?! Someone could see,” you weakly scolded him behind closed eyes and a lulling tongue. Your body reacted by tensing like stone, but somehow your legs felt as tottering as Jello.

“Why d’ya think I got the darkest window tint on this car, baby? Ain’t nobody gonna get a sight of these creamy tits but me. I promise.” He continued the sinister rubs of his hands, and you felt the speed of the car slowly declining while the passing headlights seemed to speed furthermore.

When your mushed brain was able to relay the message to open your eyes, Tommy was easing the car into a corner parking space at a park in close proximity to the conference hall where the event was being held. Once placing the gear to the “P” on the dash, he searched the side of his seat for the lever to scoot himself further from the steering wheel of the car. Clearing making room for whatever tantric scenario he was rehearsing in his mind.

“You gonna crawl on outta that little outfit, or you plan on makin’ me tear it open to get what I been wantin’?”

You couldn’t look away from his delicious, hypnotizing stares and remained unmoved where you sat, breasts still catching the light of a full moon, and the green haze of the radio dials. Taking way more time than he saw fit, he opened his door exiting the car. Sitting awestruck and panting there alone in the still running vehicle, a sea of confusion drowned you. But suddenly, when a dark figure loomed on the outside of your murky, tinted window and nearly ripped the door from the hinges upon opening, it all made sense.

The impossibly broad man grasped you gently, but purposefully about the wrist and guided you to raise from your seat. You instinctively reached to shield your naked torso from the possible wondering eyes, but then noticed the vacant lot around you. Tommy was no fool, nor amateur to these racy situations, and he brought the two of you to this particular place knowing the solitary location. It was no accident you wound up here. He sluggishly discarded his suit jacket to your now empty seat, and unfastened his belt as he calmly relocated to the front end of the black sports car.

His lack of vocal explanations made you shutter with orgasmic exhilaration, knowing whatever Tommy planned would have you perspiring and writhing at some point in the exchange.

“C’mere, Y/N. I need some’n from ya’.” The headlights of the car had been shut off, but the dim orange of parking lights highlighted the calm demeanor across Tommy’s slightly scruffy face.

Wise, and aroused enough to not protest, your heels clacked boldly against the cracking chunks of blacktop below you as you followed the delectable mans’ orders. You should’ve been properly accustomed to your beau and his otherworldly visual aesthetics by now, but it seemed he had made a dirty deal with father time himself, and only got more handsome with age.

“And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over whatever it is than you need, Mr. Conlon?” You cooed, dragging lower the upper half of your clothing, now revealing the feminine skin just below your navel.

He lifted you then with little effort onto the hood heated by the smothering summer air, flat on your exposed back, stuffing his hands inside the rolled up mess of your jumpsuit to tug your legs from it. His eyes glazed with rigorous, carnal desire when he was met with only bare flesh underneath your clothing.

“Wha’ do we have here then, hm? Somebody was askin’ for a lil’ romp wi’ me by the looks of it.” He chuckled sultrily. His Pittsburgh lilt coming through more dominant as it usually did in when he was kidnapped by unmanageable lust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mister. It was strictly for…… comfort purposes,” you attempted a logical excuse, but the tilting nod of his head gave way that he knew for certain the cheeky gesture was intended only to rile him.

Tommy lifted one of your petite legs to lay atop his shoulder and kissed the protruding ankle bone next to his mouth. Never missing a beat, he lazily slid his nose up the line of your calf, knee, mid-thigh, seemingly to inhale your aroma like a predatory jungle cat. His tongue almost unnoticeably stuck from between his lips, leaving a trail of saliva upon your skin to catch the effects of the breezy night wind. Your breathing pattern hitched when two coarse fingers sketched a tickling trail between your now parted southern lips, and Tommy exhaled a breathy laugh of giddy passion.

“By the feel of this slick spot between ya’ thighs, I think you’re gonna be just fine with givin’ me what it is I need from ya’, little girl.” One of the assaulting fingers curled inside your warm entrance, and the other unhurriedly followed suit. The bustle of passing freeway traffic only a short mile or two distance from us only augmented the allure of the already risky situation, and you knew Tommy’s adrenaline was indeed off the charts.

A heated moan of welcome danced from your lips as your back arched further into his slow-pounding hand, all the while the car beneath you rocked rhythmically with his motions. Licks like tepid bath water poured over the lobe of your ear and the pulse in your neck, and you felt slight twitches take over your legs.

“Tommy, I’m almost there. I wanna feel you, please…”

I knew I wouldn’t need to beg. Tommy didn’t care how you got your release as long as he was the cause, so he wouldn’t have any arguments in satisfying you with another member of his body.

He kept a thumb perfectly pressured on your begging clit while smoothly taking down his zipper.

“I guess I oughta get these outta the way, huh. Since I know you’ll go ‘n make a mess of ‘em,” he teased dropping the dark navy shade of his pants just above his knees.

He yanked you sternly and eagerly lower on the hood, evening himself up to the desired target before entering at a torturously slow pace. Thankful in that instant you had decided on loose, relaxed hair for the evening considering the rutting, flailing movements of your head. Tommy never closed his eyes when the two of you made love, afraid he may miss the bounce of your perfectly portioned breasts, or the needful way you gnawed on your lip almost drawing blood when he grazed your internal sweet spot.

“That’s what my girl likes, ain’t it? Tell me, baby. How’s that feelin’?” He antagonized with a furrowed, smiling brow. Tommy was a man of few words in the public eye, but an explicit poet in the bedroom, and he expected the same of his partner.

He knew your body as well as he knew the pages of an MMA rulebook, so he understood fully just how stupidly crazy those slow thrusts made you. He said you were the first woman he’d known to go ‘fuckin’ ape shit’ with hard, drawn-out movements rather than the sloppy, highspeed pumps. But he quickly grew to love himself those less exaggerated speeds, and found a happy medium to suit you both.

 The modest leg coverage of your clothing choice would be necessary when he was done with you, feeling the aches of fingerprint bruises already embedded into your thighs. The marks of crescent moons would still be lingering there tomorrow, a naughty reminder of how powerfully possessive Tommy was.

“Just like that, Tom. I’m getting so close. You’re so good, babe,” I showered his ego with unashamed compliments, feeling a tight knot tangling in my lower belly.

He pulled you up to rest on your elbows, desiring a plainer view of the contorted screams of orgasm that impended closely, then nearly knocked you unconscious with the strike of his kiss.

A shrieking cry pulsed from inside you, followed by the increased cadence of his in and out movements, announcing his own guttural explosion. Tommy’s head lilted backwards facing the open sky, and from my point of view, he resembled a feverish werewolf calling out to the fullness of the moon.

“Much betta. Now maybe I won’t lose my shit and break some reporters nose at this fuckin’ thing,” he stated while offering you a hand in aid as you scooted to drop onto the ground.

“Would you mind handing me some clothes, Conlon. I’d prefer not to get arrested tonight for public indecency.” You tiptoed for a kiss as the man offered an open leg of the jumpsuit for you to step into.

 The two of you giggled like law-breaking teenagers the entire night, feeling sly that no one in the room knew about the very public ravishing that had taken place just hours earlier. Tommy seemed annoyed, yet controlled amongst the vast media questioning and countless photo-ops, and you gave yourself the proverbial pat on the back for probably being the cause of such. All the while in your mind, you amped up for the next public event he’d drag you to, wondering whether these bathroom doors had locks on them.

[teddymaguire]

there's somewhere over the rainbow and if you change the way you love –– then maybe you can go . // self .

date: the 16th of november 2018 time: 8: 39pm location: a 7-eleven deep in oakland california, around 40 minutes away from halston included: naomi, @beaumag​, @ffsxres​, ( indirectly –– all maguires ) tw: kidnapping, child kidnapping, possible hints of neglect, violence, homophobia

five, four, three, two, one .

his hands couldn’t move as he did his best to press the few buttons it took to call his brother. the door had only been locked for a few seconds and every part of teddy was terrified the lock wouldn’t work. it wouldn’t work. she’d come in here and then he’d really have to go. 

five, four, three, two, one .

❛  beau ? beau, it’s me . ❜    his sobs seemed to be echoed in the empty room as he did his best to cover his mouth. he kept trying to contain himself, but he couldn’t help it. at seventeen years old, he never expected his mother to go to these lengths to get him to go to la with her. his mother. it felt weird calling her that.    ❛  she didn’t –– she didn’t take me to the hollenbeck home, beau. ❜    he took in a deep breath as he did his best to remember that he needed to be clear in his next words and he needed to be as quiet as possible. she could be right outside that door.      ❛ i’m in a 7-eleven bathroom –– i think we’re all the way in oakland. this was the soonest i could fake something to get out of the car. ❜    his sobs continued through the phone call as he just kept speaking. the other wasn’t able to get a word in before teddy spoke again.     ❛  i think she’s taking me to la and i don’t wanna go beau. please please don’t make me go. ❜    his hand had moved back up to his mouth as the sobs continued. he had been calm for so long as he told his mother to pull off ( his excuse that he’d had one too many bottles of water at school ). it took everything in him not to sprint to the bathrooms outside of the gas station, however as soon as he got into the single stall, the tears started flowing and his fingers started moving.     ❛  please come get me. ❜    he spoke as he hung up the phone and pinned his location.

oh, he did it all to spare me from the awful things in life that comes .

his next call hadn’t been planned. he remembered the first time naomi had come back into their lives that he’d sat down with his siblings and beau had made it very clear on what to do when they were alone with her and she’d tried something. get yourself to a clear space away from her and call beau. that’d been what he did. except when teddy was thirteen, he didn’t have ares. so when his fingers immediately started dialing the boy’s number, it almost solidified how important he was to teddy.     ❛  hey –– hi bab –– yea, i’m late i’m sorry. ❜    his tears ran through the phone as if ares was right next to him. and that’s all he wanted in that moment. his boyfriend. the love of his life right there in that god damned bathroom with gum all over the walls and a stench like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. if ares had been there, even this situation could still be made into something better. his voice was practically horse at this point, with barely any ability to speak due to the outpour of his cry, he still continued.     ❛  naomi offered to drive me to yours –– and instead she started driving me to la. ❜    he collected himself for a brief second before he continued.     ❛  beau’s on his way but i’m –– i’m in a bathroom and i can’t –– i can’t be here without you. you’ve got my location right ? ❜    he let out a few breaths as the other responded. teddy could barely hear him on the other line but that was all he needed to even calm down even just a little bit.     ❛  p-please don’t hang up. i can’t be here by myself. please come get me. ❜    and the next forty minutes felt like six hours.

and he cries and cries .

she’d beaten on the door once every five minutes until about two minutes ago. then it seemed like she stopped. the only thing that pulled him out of his shaking stage was a strong rather loud voice ––      ❛  what the hell do you want from him ? ❜    his eyes widened as he did his best to quickly stand up. he quickly hung up the phone ( but not without a quick i love you and to finish driving safe to his boyfriend ) before he walked closer to the bathroom door.      ❛  stay the fuck away from him . ❜      he couldn’t open that door fast enough. teddy hadn’t heard that tone in such a long time ( maybe it had been the last time naomi had showed up ? he couldn’t remember that far back anymore. )  within seconds, teddy spotted the taller male practically slamming the front door of his car shut as naomi started walking towards him. the yelling back and forth continued as she got in her eldest son’s face and tried her best to let him have it. respect had been out the door between those two for as long as he’d known. naomi spoke to beau like a dog, but hell would freeze over if he’d let her speak like that to the others. before he could get a word in, he heard a simple teddy behind him. he did his best to quickly turn around and with what energy he had left he practically threw himself at the other male. tears were falling faster than ever at this point and teddy felt as though he was dead weight on ares. his legs had given out as he was practically laying on the other. with his arms tightly around the other’s neck and his face stuffed as close to him as possible, his sobs sounded as such. he was absolutely terrified yet he was finally there with the two people he cared about most in his life. they were there and things may end up okay. he was caught out of his trance a few moments later when he heard the strong voice that was just screaming turn into something rather soft.       ❛  teddy . ❜      his hand had now made it’s way into ares’ as he still hadn’t pulled away from the hug. being as close to ares as possible –– that was all he wanted. however, the name caught him off guard and suddenly he had looked up to find his mother and brother looking at them.       ❛  why don’t we go home ? ❜      that was all it took for teddy to start walking ( and despite the shakiness of his legs, he made it to the car in one piece ) –– yet no part of him was letting go of the boy next to him. they’d figure out a car situation later, but for now –– ares wasn’t going anywhere without him. as teddy walked past his mother, he practically felt the daggers she was laying into them. he knew her feelings about the situation he was in, and that almost struck another type of fear into his chest. what if she wasn’t leaving? what if this wasn’t her final goodbye?

five, four, three, two, one .

they’d been in the car for twenty minutes before ares’ spoke up. teddy’s head had been on his lap and he’d been laying in the backseat since they got in the car. he had almost been asleep ( ares’ hand was running through his hair and that practically acted as melatonin for him ) when he’d almost heard that word.       ❛  hi, i’m ares, teddy’s b –– ❜      oh yea. despite the realization that that was the way he’d practically come out to his brother, he was too exhausted and numb to react in any sort of over the top way. it had been his first word spoken in the car since they’d gotten in.       ❛  boyfriend. ares’ is my boyfriend. ❜      

the gun is gone & so am i & here i go .

[contagious-addiction]

The Adventures of Mollycock Pealeaf and Co. Pt 1

Beaten, bloody, and furious, Beau brought her staff down with a resounding crack atop the remaining magic user’s head. They crumpled into a pathetic heap at her feet as she struck them one more time for good measure, just to vent her anger at being surprised - once again - by an ambush in the middle of the night. It was something she was really starting to get tired of.

Nott was heavily wounded, two large gashes in her sides but still managing to carry herself closer to the rest of the group with her crossbow still notched.

“Yasha? Fjord? Jester?” Beau called over her shoulder after giving Nott a nod, scanning the area for the heads of her companions she’d lost track of in the fray.

The snow obscured their forms over the dip of the hill, but the sound of Fjord’s “We’re alright” Yasha’s “I am fine.” and Jester’s “Right as rain!” seemed to show that they weren't in any harm.

“I think we have, ah… A problem, Beauregard.” Caleb spoke hesitantly from his place on the ground, cloak obscuring what she could only assume was Molly. Beau shifted, her brows pulling together as she frowned, suddenly worried.

“Hah?”

Caleb scratched the back of his head with a strange expression on his face. He looked puzzled but almost... Asmused.

“Mollymauk.” His mouth twitched and he cleared his throat, hiding his grin with the back of his head. “He is a... Bird. For now.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Nott stopped her scavenging of the bodies of the sorcerers around them and watched Caleb stand aside to reveal in all his glory, a lavender peacock with horns and jewelry to match.

Fjord, Yasha, and Jester crested the edge of the snow covered hill just in time to watch Beauregard dopple over in a fit of laughter while Nott brought her silver flask to her lips, drinking deeply in response.

“Why is it always Molly shit happens to.” Beaureguard howled, bent over and clutching her sides in pain and histarea.

The peacock - polymorphed Mollymauk, as Caleb said between his own smirk - seemed to take offence in Beau’s laughter, his feathers lifting as he made a god awful trill of a noise and displayed his wings aggressively at Beau, flapping them and kicking the air in her direction. Snow followed his movements and he sunk lower into the powder before shaking his feathers again and jerking his head to look at the figure of Caleb beside him as if to plead for his defense. He was given no assistance from Caleb, who only lifted and eyebrow and shrugged.

Beau flinched at Molly’s display and brought up her staff, holding it between herself and Mollymauk

“I fuckin’ hate birds.” Beau grouched, glaring at Mollymauk before looking up at Caleb who had contained his previous laughter and was now watching Mollymauk with interest.

“Can’t Jester turn him back with one of her restoration spells?” Nott asked as the rest of the Mighty Nein caught up and took in the sight of Molly.

“Mollymauk will be fine,” Caleb assured them as Jester gasped excitedly, eyeing the new visage of Mollymauk as if he were a cute puppy instead of the distressed form of a polymorphed Mollymauk. “This spell will wear off in an hour or two at most. For now we, ah. Have to keep him from running away or hurting himself. Which should be easy enough.”

“Molly you are so cute.” Jester cooed, rushing up to kneel beside him. Molly blinked at her and tilted his head, fluffing his feathers and raising his tail feathers slightly which were oddly maroon, similar to his coat both in color as well as spotted with the vague symbols of his coat. “I don’t think you’d very warm with your little bird legs in the snow so let me carry you.”

Reaching out for him was a mistake on Jester’s part. Mollymauk raised his legs and wings, pushing off her offered arms in a desperate attempt to distance himself from her embrace.

“Ouch-” Jester rubbed her inner arm where Molly scratched her, pouting as Mollymauk flared his wings and quickly retreated and flead down the snowy hill.

“Shit he’s runnin’-!” Fjord cursed.

“Yasha, grab him!” Beau shouted.

“Oh. Ah. Okay.”

Bending down, Yasha beconed Mollymauk from her place a bit farther down the hill. Molly slowed, but lowered his head and tried to dart past Yasha after a moment of hesitation. It was all over for him in that moment as her hands caught him in a vice grip around both wings in a way that held him secure as well as kept him pinned to the snowy ground. He made a call of distress and eyed Yasha with betrayal in his eyes.

“Got him.” She called as the rest of the group followed suit.

“Mollymauk.” Caleb knelt and Molly’s wide red eyes snapped to attention, training themselves on the wizard warily. “I’m going to cover your head with my jacket. You will feel safer then but you must trust us.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed and his neck bobbed as he took in the sight of his friends.

“Ja, that is good.” Caleb soothed before slipping his battered coat off his shoulders and throwing it over Yasha’s hands.

“Should I-”

“Mm. You can let go Yasha, I’ve got him. Danke.”

With quick hands Yasha released Mollymauk and Caleb replaced her hands with his own, folding the coat around Mollymauk snugly but enough to allow him room to shift if he was uncomfortable.

“There.” Caleb huffed, his breath sending plumes of steam into the air.

“Jeez, you would think he would have been fine with me picking him up…” Jester frowned as she stood beside Caleb. “I can take him now if he’s too heavy for you Caleb.” She offered.

“No, it is fine.” He assured her, shaking his head once before adjusting his grip and holding Mollymauk a bit closer to his chest. He could hear him make a soft crooning trill, which was still loud compared to the volume of the group around him, but not nearly as loud as the near screech he’d sent Beauregard’s way before.

“Yes yes, you are fine now, Circus Man.” Caleb reminded Mollymauk before looking to the rest.

Jester was already tending to the rest of the crew, patching them up with healing words and first aid where it was needed. Luckily Caleb was barely touched, thanks to Mollymauk’s quick reflexes and successful blood maladict. He just was hit in Caleb’s sted with one of the caster’s last ditch spells.

“You make a very good bird Mr. Mollymauk. Very showy.” Caleb said with a grin as he trudged his way back to their cart through the snow. They got a new cart weeks ago after they rescued their friends and Molly had… Well. Caleb tried very hard not to dwell on what transpired then aside the fact they needed to be more careful with the people they make enemies with in the future.

He could hear Molly hiss under his coat and Caleb chuckled softly, carefully adjusting his grip on Mollymauk so his tail feathers weren’t bent awkwardly against his arm.

“I am sorry,” he admitted “I did not think the caster would turn you into - ah - eh. A peacock. Like that. But you will return to normal soon.”

He reached the horses and cart soon enough, climbing into the canvases back of it with Mollymauk as the rest of the party got to their own horses - three of which they’d purchased recently due to the death of their other two horses and release of Loaf after the kidnapping situation.

Settling against a sack of grain they kept for the horses, Caleb settled Mollymauk in front of him and lifted his coat hesitantly.

Molly raised his head with a jerk, glancing around the wagon before seeming to relax.

Satisfied that Mollymauk wouldn’t run off immediately, Caleb sniffed and pulled his coat back over his shoulders since the biting cold was starting to numb his hands, wrapped as they were.

Mollymauk snapped his beak twice, catching Caleb’s attention as he crawled into his lap.

“Ah- wait, Mollymau-“ Caleb protested with his arms up, but it was no use. Molly worked his way into Caleb’s lap, feathers fluffed and tail splayed out behind him in a maroon waterfall of feathers as he made himself comfortable in the crook of his cold legs.

“Okay.” He sighed, resigning himself to a lap full of bird that reminded him strangely of Frumpkin weight wise. Molly adjusted his wings and flared them ever so slightly, and Caleb hesitated for a moment before letting his cold fingers press into the inviting peaks of Molly’s feathers.

He was warm. Not that Caleb thought he would be anything different, but it was still a drastic difference from the ice of his finger tips that his skin felt raw and ached.

Mollymauk barely reacted, just stared outside the wagon as the rest of the Nein saddled their horses and talked amongst themselves. He did however, make an awful crooning call sound that made Caleb jolt and Molly shift in his lap. By the sound of it Mollymauk had caused Beau to fall off her horse, her indignant “Fuck You Molly!” following soon after.

“You stop that.”

Mollymauk turned his attention to Caleb now and if a peacock could look smug, Mollymauk was in fact wearing a shit eating grin. As if to say “now why would I do that”.

With a shake of his head and a gentle brush of his fingers through Mollymauk’s feathers, he turned his attention away from his feathered friend and out the back of the cart as Yasha poised her horse just behind the wagon. Most likely to guard their backs, but mostly to keep an eye on Mollymauk in case he tried any other daring escapes while he was transformed.

“Ready back there Caleb?” Nott’s voice called from the front of the wagon - she must be driving the horses today.

“Ja. We are settled.”

“Let’s move out then.” Fjord called from ahead somewhere.

“Yeah I’m sick of sleeping in the cold,” Jester replied with a sigh “Next town we stop at we’re staying at the nicest, warmest hotel okay?”

“I’m alright with that.” Yasha replied.

“Eh. I mean. We could save up our coin for, I don’t know, diamonds worth 300 gold a piece or something instead.” Nott stressed.

“Now that is a stupid idea.” Jester pouted, and Caleb shook his head with a fond grin. He didn’t have to see her to know she was springboarding off of Nott’s criticism and would make sure they had what they needed by the time they reached any type of situation close to death again.

The cart lurched forward at the snap of Nott’s wrist, and Caleb grasped Mollymauk a bit firmer who slipped in his grasp with a displeased hiss.

“Sorry.” Caleb apologized as Mollymauk settled himself again in the tangle of his legs.

[beauwilkinson]

WHO: Beau Wilkinson, featuring: Savannah Wilkinson, Irina Draganova, Severus Snape WHEN: Either AU-verse, or set in the future. That is still up in the air. WHERE: Unknown, somewhere hidden WHAT: Savannah Wilkinson is kidnapped by Grindelwald supporters for information, but she does not offer up anything. In order to get answers out of her, they kidnap her little brother Beau as leverage. Trigger Warnings: Violence, Torture, and a whole lotta angst!

Beau lifted his head, looking around in confusion. Had been dumped onto a stone floor, in a room with no windows. A basement, perhaps? There were oil lamps hanging on different points of the walls, and he was in a room full of old, ornate furniture. Where was he? There was a soft whine and quiet movement from next to her. He turned his head in direction of the sound, eyes widening as he realized who it was.

“Savannah!” He exclaimed, immediately straining against the ropes that were magically bound around his wrists and ankles.

She was seated in a chair, wrists tried to the armchair, ankles tied to the legs. Her hair was a mess, and so was the rest of her. She was staring at him with such unbridled horror, that he felt himself go cold to the very tips of his toes. She had been missing for how many days now? Six? Seven? He’d been so scared, but here he was now, tied up on the ground just one meter away from her.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Savannah moaned, twisting in her seat to see him. There were tears in her eyes, and marks on her face, and Beau wondered with terror what had happened to her.

“Savannah--” He started to say again, but she cut him off.

“No,” She was gasping now, tears falling from her eyes. “You-- you shouldn’t be here, Beau, you can’t--”

She was cut off by the sound of low, icy laughter. Beau froze, eyes sliding across the wall to the source of the voice. To his surprise, he recognized her. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes on her, but he had spent a year in Potions class with her. She looked even colder than she had at Hogwarts all those years ago, and twice as frightening.

“Irina.” He hissed in surprise. He tried to scoot back and away from her, but Irina Draganova was faster. She pointed her wand at him, and with one quick snap of her wrist, he was hit with a spell that glued his body to the floor like it was a magnet.

“Ah ah ah,” Draganova said as if she were scolding a naughty child. “Can’t have you squirming around, can we?”

“What do you want from us?” Beau asked, voice cracking in fear. He looked to Savannah again, and she looked frozen in her seat. “What did you do to her?!” He exclaimed.

Draganova chuckled, glancing to her right. Beau followed her line of sight, noticing yet another one of Hogwart’s old students. It was a man, whose greasy hair brushed against the tops of his shoulders. His nose was large and hooked looking, but that wasn’t what recalled his name to Beau. It was the way he stood, shoulders hunched and bat-like, that gave away his identity. Severus Snape, a Slytherin from Savannah’s year, was watching them with an emotionless look on his face.

“Would you like to answer this one?” She asked, arching on perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“I suppose.” Snape replied tonelessly, stepping further into the light. He settled Savannah with a look, and Beau tried to read the expression on Snape’s face but it was no use. There was not a single bit of emotion in his eyes, and when Beau looked over to Irina, he could see the same sort of look. Somehow, this coldness horrified Beau down to his very core, more so than if he could see and feel their passion, their anger. He felt… nothing from either one of them, and he didn’t know what to expect.  

“To be quite frank, Beauregard,” Snape murmured, walking towards him, condescension dripping from his tone. “We don’t want anything from you. It’s your darling big sister that has information we need. She’s refused to provide us answers so far, and Irina and I are crunching for time, so we thought we’d bring you in to speed up the process.”

Beau wasn’t stupid, per say, but he sometimes didn’t pick up the memo as quickly as others did, and he looked at Snape in confusion. “Me? But-- But I don’t know anything. I don’t work for the government, I’m just--” He stuttered over his words, looking to Savannah with wide-eyes. “I don’t know anything.” He said again, looking back at Snape.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s quite clear that you don’t know anything.” He pointed to Savannah. “It’s your sister that knows things. And like I said, she won’t tell me. I’ve tried asking nicely, I’ve tried asking meanly, and I’ve tried asking violently. It seems that she’s stronger than we first thought.”

Beau felt something flip in his stomach. Okay, now he could see where this was going. They… were going to hurt him, to get information out of her. Information that could help them, information that’s important to national security, to the freedom and safety of all Americans. Beau was not a fighter, that was true. And Beau was not involved in the government, so he really didn’t know anything. But, Beauregard Wilkinson was a patriot, and with this in mind, he turned to Savannah.

“Savannah.” He said bluntly. “Don’t tell them anything. You can’t tell them.” He… he could handle this. He could. He just had to be like Savannah, last long enough that they gave up. If she could do it, he could do it. He had spent the first few years of his life following her lead. It had been awhile since that was the case, but he could do it again. He could be strong.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Typical Gryffindor.” He clicked his tongue, and then took a few paces back, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Fine, have it your way. Irina?” He gave a sweep of his hand, motioning towards Beau.

Silently, and with an expression so void it mirrored Snape’s, Draganova stepped forward. She pointed her wand right down at his face.

“Crucio.”

Beau was blinded with pain. It shot through his body from head to toe, burning everything. He felt it deep in his muscles, down to his bones, and on the inside of his organs. It was like thousand flaming swords stabbing into him at once. However, painful as that was, it paled to the searing agony that ravaged every inch of his skin. He felt like he’d been doused with with oil and set on fire. Every nerve ending in his body screamed, even those down in the darkest depths of his body. He screamed like he never had before, but he could barely hear it. It felt like someone had poured lava into his ears. His head felt like someone was taking an entire shop full of drills to it. This was Hell.

Any sense of time and coherent thought fled from him until he couldn’t imagine anything else but the pain. He didn’t know how long he was kept underneath the fire of Draganova’s wand. Eventually, however, he came out of it. Had that been five minutes? Or had that been five seconds? It couldn’t have lasted any longer, he thought, as he had been mere seconds from fainting from exhaustion. It had felt like hours, but also like no time at all -- so intense that part of him felt like that couldn’t have been real when he wasn’t under it.

And yet the pain lingered. Not just the scrapes and bruises from thrashing against the floor. Not just the deep ache of strained muscles and bones from the alarming twitching he’d been doing. There was a lingering feeling of being burnt all over, and there was an echo of the crushing, inhuman force of the Unforgivable Curse. How had Savannah been able to speak after this, let alone last for so long without breaking?

He could barely hear as the ringing in his ears subsided. Snape was speaking -- but not to him, to Savannah. He was kneeling beside her, far too close for Beau’s comfort. “So, are you ready to talk yet?”

Beau only half-listened, trying to blink away the pain. He could hear the sound of Savannah begging on his behalf, but from the sounds of their voices, it didn’t seem like it was doing any good. He felt like crying. It seemed like his big sister had finally found herself in a situation that she couldn’t talk herself out of. He remembered his vow, however. Be strong, be strong. He could get through this.

A sob shook through Savannah’s body as she watched Beau on the floor, but she shook her head to Snape, “No. I won’t talk.”

“We’ll see.” He didn’t motion towards Draganova this time, but she knew what to do without it being spoken.

“Crucio!”

Beau’s body seized up, and he thrashed on the floor as the fire consumed him again. He screamed, but he couldn’t even feel how it tore at his throat, the pain was so bad. It seemed to burn worse than before, and to last longer, but either of those things could have been in his head. It was too much for his mind to process as anything less.

He gasped as the curse was lifted. His throat hurt worse, and he felt like he had sprained his arm with his thrashing. His body felt the aftermath of being burned, hypersensitive to any painful stimuli. His heart felt like it would leap out of his chest in his rising panic. What was going on? Why was this happened? He yelped when Draganova grabbed him by his hair, her nails digging roughly into his scalp.

“Come on, Savannah darling.” Draganva crooned, tilting her head while Beau sputtered, struggling slightly underneath her hand. “Brother dearest needs your help, look at how scared he looks.”

Her words were meant to effect Savannah, and Beau was inclined to believe that they were. He felt like he needed to vomit, and he was shaking intensely, but he could hold on. He could do this. He was strong. He repeated this like a mantra. Over, and over, and over again. He wouldn’t stop until they stopped. He was struggling to speak, but he was strong, so he managed to say loud enough, “Don’t do it, Savannah.”

SLAM! Irina cracked his head against the ground, making him see stars. She obviously wasn’t appreciating his interruptions.

Beau’s skin felt warm with hot, sticky blood. He didn’t think he’d ever been hit so hard in his life, but he did not cry out. After the pure, unimaginable agony of the Cruciatus Curse, a blow to the head didn’t feel like very much to deal with. Draganova yanked him back up, and the blood slid down his face in thick, heavy lines. It was in his eyes, but other than that, it was manageable.

Snape and Savannah were talking again, but his head was throbbing loudly, and it made it hard to hear. Their voices were just too quiet, too low, and not loud enough. He strained his ears trying to listen, but then a second later it did not matter, for Savannah’s scream of agony was more than loud enough. Snape was pointing his wand on her, using the very same Unforgivable Curse that Beau himself had just been under. Now that he knew how awful it was, he felt a despair so heavy settle inside of him that he began to weep at the sight of her. But he did not ask her to break. She had been strong so far, and she could be strong for a little bit longer. Tears were dripping from his eyes, but he stayed silent.

Snape tore his wand away, and Savannah collapsed in her chair with a shudder. Snape walked around her slightly, his eyebrows pulling together. Irina still looked emotionless, her fingers still tightly wound in Beau’s hair. Snape seemed to be growing angrier, but it was hard for Beau to tell.

“You are choosing this, Savannah, I hope you know that.” Snape sneered. “The blood on your brother’s face is on your hands, and so is his pain.”

Beau didn’t dare struggle against Irina, terrified that it would cause Snape to turn his wand on his sister again. He couldn’t bare to see her like that, twisting and bending in such unnatural ways. He truly understood why the Cruciatus Curse was considered Unforgivable. It was the worst of the three, without a doubt.

Snape was motioning to Draganova again, and before he knew it, Beau was being thrown roughly back to the ground. She cast the same spell as for, locking his limbs against the ground. Terrified of being under the curse once more, he tried to talk his way out of it, let them know that there was no use of doing this. He would not give in. “She’s not going to talk, Snape. And I’m not going to ask her to.” He spat out a little bit of blood, and it splattered against his pants. Not that he minded.

He was acting far more tough than he felt on the inside, and something in Snape’s expression made it clear that he knew that. Snape walked away from Savannah, moving to stand next to Draganova. They exchanged eye contact, just briefly, before Snape was crouching down next to him.

“Let me make this clear for you, Beauregard.” Beau wished he would stop saying that. He was proud of his full name, even if he didn’t use it often, and it sounded dirty coming from Snape’s lips. “You, are expendable. Do you think that we won’t kill you to get your sister to talk?” Beau suddenly felt very small and very foolish for assuming that they wouldn’t kill him. “You offer no skills, no information, no use of any kind, and yet you lie here running your mouth like we have any reason to spare your life.”

Snape pushed himself up, dusting his hands on his pants, before moving to stand in front of Savannah once again. He faced her this time, the same dead, emotionless look on his face. “Let me explain to you just exactly what is about to happen. You are going to give me all of the information I want to know. If, for some silly reason, you decide you don’t want to do that, then I am going to make you watch while Irina curses your brother until there is nothing left for her to curse anymore. The quaffle is under your arm, Savannah. Tell me, is the information you’re holding worth watching Irina turn him into a vegetable?”

Irina interjected, giving Savannah an eerie smile. Beau listened in silence on the ground, unable to put into words what exactly it was that he felt. “He probably won’t be able to talk anymore, and he certainly won’t remember who you are” Draganova murmured, with false sympathy in her voice. “I bet you’ll miss that little puppy dog smile, won’t you?”

Unknowingly, Beau had begun to shake. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t strong. Maybe he wasn’t. Trembling violently, he began to weep again when Draganova pointed her wand at him. “P-please,” He pleaded, voice cracking, “Please don’t, please don’t do this to me--”

“Crucio!”

Beau screamed again as indescribable agony seared him to the bone. It never varied. That was probably the point of the spell, because the only way it could be different was if it hurt less. He felt like he was receiving the maximum amount of pain possible. It was a torture he couldn’t escape, no matter how he screamed and flailed and tore at his own body.

He tasted blood in his mouth when the curse cut off. He didn’t wait for them to speak, and he just pleaded with what little strength he had left. “Please, please, stop! I-- I can’t--”

“Crucio!”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even remember why he had thought he could do this in the first place. He couldn’t think for long enough to string two thoughts together with the Cruciatus Curse burning through him, let alone remember that he wanted to be strong. He’d say anything to get this to stop-- how could he get her to stop?

“What do you think, Beau?” Draganova said, crouching down next to him. Her hands were soft as they brushed against his cheek, and if he wasn’t so weak, he would have cowered away from her. “Have you had enough?”

“Yes,” Beau wheezed. “I-- I can’t--” He began to cry again.

“Well, Savannah, you heard him.” Came the sound of Snape again. “Are you ready to talk?”

Beau’s eyes fluttered in the direction of Savannah. Her face was swollen and splotchy with her tears. “Beau, I’m so sorry, I’m so sor--”

Beau did not hear the rest of her apology. Only the sound of his own screams as the pain started brand new again. This one didn’t last that long, because before he knew it, he heard Savannah talking and it sounded like she was still on the same sentence. Still, short or not, two seconds could feel like twenty when he was in that much pain. Savannah was still apologizing to him, but he cut her off, speaking to her directly. “Savannah, please, please.” He was sobbing now, with tears mixing in with the blood and dirt on his face. “Please, please, please,” The words all rushed together in one long, watery sounding stream as he begged his sister to tell them what they wanted to know. Anything to make this stop.

Patriot or not, Beau could not do this. He could not fight this, not in a million years. He didn’t want his mind torn away from him. He would prefer dying to this pain, he would rather be struck down on the spot than to experience another horrifying moment of that. For the second time, he thought he was in Hell. This must be Hell, for there was no God in this room, not at all. Beau closed his eyes tightly, trying to remember a prayer, something, anything to comfort him, but all he could think about was the horrible, awful pain. He hoped that they wouldn’t do it again, but this was Hell, and nobody ever got what they wanted in Hell.

“Crucio!”

“Savannah, please!” He cried out, thrashing and twitching and bending all over. He turned his head and vomited, vaguely surprised that he’d managed not to do that before. His screams were ragged and hoarse. He felt the curse shoot through him -- the curse that had robbed innocent people of their memories, of their hopes and lives and dreams. Had they felt like this? Tortured for reasons they didn’t understand, helpless as they were slowly robbed of what made them them? How long had it taken? Hours? A day? How long before the damage was permanent? How long before he lost his voice from the screaming, and couldn’t plead to his sister even if he wanted to.

He lost all track of time, even when he wasn’t being cursed. At some point, he didn’t know if he’d been there for an hour, or or a week. All he knew was the pain-- the fire seeping into his brain. Irina kept cursing him, and Severus kept talking to Savannah, asking more and more insistently if she wanted them to stop.

He thought it would never end, until finally, it did.

“STOP!” Came the ragged sound of Savannah’s scream. Instantly, the pain stopped, and Beau laid there on the floor, whimpering, crying, and twitching.

“Excuse me?” Snape asked, tilting his head. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you?”

“Stop, please. I’ll-- I’ll tell you anything you want. I swear.”

WORD COUNT: 3, 281

[gaysparklepires]

16. Epoch

“I have nothing to wear!” I moaned to myself.

Every item of clothing I owned was strewn across my bed; my drawers and closets were bare. I stared into the empty recesses, willing something suitable to appear.

My khaki pants lay over the back of the rocking chair, waiting for me to discover something that went with them just exactly right. Something that would make me look stylish and grown up. Something that said special occasion. I probably was missing the mark entirely just by choosing khakis.

It was almost time to go, and I was still wearing my favorite old sweats. Unless I could find something better here—and the odds weren’t looking good at this point—I was going to graduate in them.

I scowled at the pile of clothes in my bed.

The kicker was that I knew exactly what I would have worn if it were still available—my kidnapped red button up shirt. I threw myself facedown onto my bed.

“Stupid, thieving, annoying vampire!” I growled in the clothes.

“What did I do?” Alice demanded.

My head shot up. Alice was leaning casually beside the open window as if she’d been there the whole time.

“Knock, knock,” she added with a grin.

“Is it really so hard to wait for me to get the door?”

She threw a flat, white box onto my bed, followed by a black shoebox. “I’m just passing through. I thought you might need something to wear.”

I looked at the packages lying on top of my unsatisfying wardrobe warily.

“Admit it,” Alice said. “I’m a lifesaver.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I muttered. “Thank you.”

“Well, it’s nice to get something right for a change. You don’t know how irritating it is—missing things the way I have been. I feel so useless. So… normal.” She cringed in horror of the word.

“I can’t imagine how awful that must feel. Being normal? My god.”

She laughed. “Well, at least this makes up for missing your annoying thief—now I just have to figure out what I’m not seeing in Seattle.”

When she said the words that way—putting the two situations together in one sentence—right then it clicked. The elusive, ridiculously obvious, something that had been bothering me for days, the important connection that I couldn’t quite put together, suddenly became clear. I stared at her, my face frozen with whatever expression was already in place.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked. She sighed when I didn’t move immediately, and tugged the top of the white box off herself. She pulled something out and held it up, but I couldn’t concentrate on what it was. “Very nice, don’t you think? I picked blue, because I know it’s Edward’s favorite on you.”

I wasn’t listening.

“It’s the same,” I whispered.

“What is?” she demanded. “You don’t have anything like this. For crying out loud, the nicest thing you own is a pair of khakis!”

“No, Alice! Forget the clothes, listen!”

“You don’t like them?” Alice’s face clouded with disappointment.

“Listen, Alice, don’t you see? It’s the same! The one who broke in and stole my things, and the new vampires in Seattle. They’re connected!”

The clothes slipped from her fingers and fell back into the box.

Alice focused now, her voice suddenly sharp. “Why do you think that?”

“Remember what Edward said? About someone using the holes in your vision to keep you from seeing the newborns? And then what you said before, about the timing being too perfect—how careful my thief was to make no contact, as if he knew you would see that. I think you were right, Alice, I think he did know. I think he was using those holes, too. And what are the odds that two different people not only know enough about you to do that, but also decided to do it at exactly the same time? No way. It’s one person. The same one. The one who is making the army is the one who stole my scent.”

Alice wasn’t accustomed to being taken by surprise. She froze, and was still for so long that I started counting in my head as I waited. She didn’t move for two minutes straight. Then her eyes focused on me.

“You’re right,” she said in a hollow tone. “Of course you’re right. And when you put it that way…”

“Edward had it wrong,” I whispered. “It was a test… to see if it would work. If he could get in and out safely as long as he didn’t do anything you would be watching out for. Like trying to kill me… and he didn’t take my things to prove he’d found me. He stole my scent… so that others could find me.”

Her eyes were wide with shock. I was right, and I could see that she knew it, too.

“Oh, no,” she mouthed.

My emotions were a complete jumble. As I processed the fact that someone had created an army of vampires—the army that had gruesomely murdered dozens of people in Seattle—for the express purpose of destroying me, I felt a horrible mix of guilt and relief.

The guilt was obvious, the relief came from finally solving that irritating feeling that I was missing something both vital and obvious.

“Well,” I deadpanned, “Everyone can relax. Nobody’s trying to exterminate the Cullens after all.”

“If you think that one thing has changed, you’re absolutely wrong,” Alice said through her teeth. “If someone wants one of us, they’re going to have to get through the rest of us to get to him.”

“Thanks Alice. But at least we know what they’re really after. That has to help.”

“Maybe,” she muttered. She started pacing back and forth across my room.

Knock, knock, knock—a panicked fist drummed against my door.

I jumped, Alice didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you ready, kiddo? We’re gonna be late!” Charlie sounded edgy. He hated occasions about as much as I did. In his case, a lot of the problem was having to dress up.

“Almost, give me a minute,” I said hoarsely.

He was quiet for half a second. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just nervous, Dad, I’ll be right out.”

“Okay, kiddo.” And I heard him clump down the stairs.

“I have to go,” Alice whispered.

“Why?”

“Edward is coming. If he hears this…”

“Go, go!” I urged immediately. Edward would go berserk when he knew. I couldn’t keep it from him for long, but maybe the graduation ceremony wasn’t the best time for his reaction.

“Get dressed,” Alice commanded as she flitted out the window.

I did what she said, dressing in a daze.

I was thankful I had at least done my hair before Alice came over, so I didn’t have to worry about it now. I threw the ugly yellow polyester graduation robe over my arm, and was about to hurry down the stairs when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

The dark blue button up shirt was exactly Edward’s favorite shade on me, and the black slacks were cut slim and perfectly tailored. The black shoes Alice had chosen looked effortlessly sophisticated and stylish. Amidst the panic and the stress that was now washing over me, I had to take a minute and appreciate this moment—this perfectly human moment—of me, standing in front of the mirror, dressed for my high school graduation and looking damn good. Maybe human experiences were pretty great, after all. Even when you have a homicidal army of bloodthirsty newborn vampires after you. Oh god.

I took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs.

“You look sharp,” Charlie said, already gruff with suppressed emotion. “Is that new?”

“Yeah,” I tried to smile, my mind in a hundred different places. “Alice got it for me as a graduation gift. Thanks.”

Edward arrived just a few minutes after his sister left. It wasn’t enough time for me to pull together a completely calm façade. But, since we were riding in the cruise with Charlie, he never had a chance to ask me what was wrong.

Charlie’s only request was that he be allowed to drive me to my graduation, and I was perfectly fine with that. I had mentioned that I had been planning on riding with Edward, who had then cheerfully suggested that we all go together. Charlie had agreed with no trouble, and now I knew why. Edward rode in the backseat of my father’s police car, behind the fiberglass divider, with an amused expression—probably due to Charlie’s amused expression, and the mischievous grin that widened every time Charlie stole a glance at Edward in his rearview mirror. In a way, even I couldn’t help but be slightly amused by the whole scenario.

“Are you all right?” Edward whispered when he helped me from the front seat in the school parking lot.

“Nervous,” I answered, and it wasn’t even a lie.

“You are so handsome,” he said.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Charlie scooted up next to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Are you excited?” he asked me.

“More nervous than anything,” I admitted.

“Well, it’s a big deal, Beau. You’re graduating from high school. It’s the real world for you now. College, living on your own… You’re not my little boy anymore.” Charlie choked up a bit at the end.

“Dad,” I sighed. “Please don’t get weepy on me.”

“Who’s weepy?” he huffed. “Besides, why can’t I be weepy?”

“Because then I’m going to get emotional.” I teased. “And I’m already anxious.”

“It’s a good that Alice is throwing this party. You need something to loosen you up.”

“Ah. A party’s exactly what I need.”

Charlie laughed at my tone and squeezed my shoulders. Edward looked at the clouds, his face thoughtful.

My father had to leave us at the back door of the gym and go around to the main entrance with the rest of the parents.

It was pandemonium as Ms. Cope from the front office and Mr. Varner the math teacher tried to line everyone up alphabetically.

“Up front, Mr. Cullen,” Mr. Varner barked at Edward.

“Hey, Beau!”

I looked up to see Jessica waving at me from the back of the line with a smile on her face.

Edward kissed me quickly, sighed, and went to go stand with the C’s. Alice wasn’t there. What was she going to do? Skip graduation. Poor timing on my part. I should have waited to figure things out until after this was over with.

“Down here, Beau!” Jessica called again.

I walked down the line to take my place behind Jessica, she was nervously fidgeting with a stack of cue cards. As I got closer, I saw Angela five people back, and she waved with a big smile.

Jess was taking deep breaths as I slid behind her.

“Oh, god, I’m so nervous, Beau. I can’t believe it’s here. I feel like screaming.”

“So do I,” I muttered.

“I’m probably going to puke.” She moaned.

“You’ll be fine, Jess. Don’t stress.”

“Beau,” she spun around and looked at me with a serious expression, “I’m going to miss you so much. I’m going off to California and you’ll be all the way in Alaska and I’m like, never going to see you. You have to promise me that we’ll get together sometimes, okay? And never stop texting me.”

“I promise, Jess.” I smiled, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.

She didn’t say anything else, but I could see tears forming in her eyes. She threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight.

“I’m really glad you moved to Forks, Beau Swan.”

“Me too, Jess.”

And just like that, things were flying by. It all went so quickly. I felt like I’d hit the fast forward button. Were we supposed to march quite that fast? Before I knew it, we were listening to Jessica’s commencement speech.

She stood at the podium, her notes in front of her, and suddenly she didn’t look nervous at all. She was poised and confident and radiant.

“When we were five, they asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Our answers were things like Astronaut, President, or in my case, a Princess. When we were ten, they asked again. We answered rock star, cowboy, or in my case, a gold medalist. But now that we’ve grown up, they want a serious answer. Well, how about this… who the hell knows?”

Everyone chuckled, a few of the boys cheered and clapped. She continued.

“This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions, it’s the time to make mistakes. To take the wrong train and get stuck somewhere. Fall in love—a lot. Major in Philosophy because there is no way to make a career out of that. Change your mind and then change it again, because nothing’s permanent. So make as many mistakes as you can. That way, someday, when they ask again what we want to be, we won’t have to guess. We’ll know.”

Everyone started applauding and then suddenly, before I could really process everything Jessica had said, Principal Greene was calling names, one after the other without a long enough pause in-between; the front row in the gymnasium was rushing to catch up. Poor Ms. Cope was all thumbs as she tried to give the principal the right diploma to hand to the right student.

I watched as Alice, suddenly appearing, danced across the stage to take hers, a look of deep concentration on her face. Edward followed behind, his expression confused, but not upset. Watching them up there, mingled among all the rest of us, I wondered how anyone had ever fallen for their human farce and chuckled to myself.

I heard Mr. Greene call my name and I rose from my chair, waiting for the line in front of me to move. I was conscious of cheering in the back of the gym, and I looked around to see Jacob pulling Charlie to his feet, both of them hooting in encouragement. I could just make out the top of Billy’s head beside Jake’s elbow. I smiled back at them, and realized as I saw the tears in Charlie’s eyes that there were tears in my eyes, too.

Mr. Greene finished with the list of names, and then continued to hand out diplomas with a sheepish grin as we filed past.

“Congratulations, Miss Stanley, well done,” he mumbled as Jess took hers.

“Congratulations, Mr. Swan,” he mumbled to me, pressing the diploma into my good hand.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

And that was it.

A human experience, had and done.

I went to stand next to Jessica with the assembled graduates. Jess was all red around the eyes, and she kept blotting her face with the sleeve of her robe. I bumped her shoulder with mine encouragingly and she laughed.

Mr. Greene said something I didn’t hear, and everyone shouted and screamed. I realized what he had said just in time and pulled my hat off and threw it in the air. Yellow hats rained down everywhere.

“Oh, Beau!” Jess threw her harms around me again. “I can’t believe we’re done.”

“I can’t believe it either,” I said. “And that speech was… kind of perfect.”

“You bet your ass it was,” she laughed through her tears. “Beau, promise we won’t lose touch,”

I hugged her back. “I’m so glad I know you, Jess. I promise.”

“Jessica!” A woman’s voice called over the crowd; Jessica’s mom was beckoning her over.

“Yikes,” Jessica breathed, “time for the ugly crying with the family.” She went to leave, then stopped and looked intently at my face. “Are you okay, Beau?”

“I’m good, Jess.” I managed to smile. “I’ll see you at the party.”

She smiled and ran off to her family. I looked around the room, slightly lost and overwhelmed. I caught sight of Angela and Ben, but they were surrounded by their families. I would congratulate them later.

I craned my head, looking for Alice or Charlie.

“Congratulations,” Edward whispered in my ear, his arms wrapped around my waist and he kissed me on the ear.

“Thanks.”

“You’re crying,” he noted.

“Am I?” My hand flew up to my face, and I felt the wetness around my eyes. “I guess I am.” I shrugged. “Big day, lots going on.”

“Hm,” was all he said.

“Hey, where did Alice go?” I asked.

“She ran out as soon as she had her diploma.”

His voice took on a new tone. I looked up to see his confused expression as he stared toward the back door of the gym. Maybe it was my emotions getting the better of me, but I just started talking without really thinking.

“Worrying about Alice?” I asked.

“Er…” He didn’t want to answer that.

“What was she thinking about, anyway? To keep you out, I mean.”

His eyes flashed down to my face, and narrowed in suspicion. “She was translating the Battle Hymn of the Republic into Arabic, actually. When she finished that she moved on to Korean sign language.”

I laughed nervously. “I suppose that would keep her head busy enough.”

“You know what she’s hiding from me,” he accused.

“Sure.” I smiled a weak smile. “I’m the one who came up with it.”

He waited, confused.

I looked around again for Charlie, he should be making his way over by now.

“Okay, knowing Alice,” I whispered in a rush, “she’ll probably try to keep this from you until after the party. But I’m going to trust you to not go berserk about this, okay? It’s always better to know as much as possible. It has to help somehow.”

“What are you talking about?”

I saw Charlie’s head bob up over the heads as he searched for me. He spotted me and waved, I waved back.

“Just stay calm, okay?”

He nodded once, his mouth a grim line.

In hurried whispers I explained my reasoning to him. “I think you’re wrong about things coming at us from all sides. I think it’s mostly coming at us from one side… and I think it’s coming at me, really. It’s all connected, it has to be. It’s just one person who’s messing with Alice’s visions. The stranger in my room was a test, to see if someone could get around her. It’s got to be the same one who keeps changing his mind, and the newborns, and stealing my clothes—all of it goes together. My scent is for them.”

His face had turned so white that I had a hard time finishing.

“I’m only telling you this so you can think about what are next plan of action is, okay? Your family is safe, we just have to worry about me… as always.”

His eyes were huge, wide with panic, dazed and horrified. He could see that I was right, just as Alice had.

I put my hand on his cheek. “Calm,” I pleaded.

“Beau!” Charlie crowed, pushing his way past the close-packed families around us.

“Congratulations, kiddo!” He was still yelling in excitement. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight.

“Thanks, Dad,” I smiled, keeping an eye on Edward’s face. He still hadn’t gained control of his expression. His hands were halfway extended toward me, like he was about to grab me and make a run for it. I threw a pleading look at Edward.

“Jacob and Billy had to take off—did you see that they were here?” Charlie asked, taking a step back, but keeping his hands on my shoulders. I was grateful that he had his back to Edward, so he couldn’t see the awful expression on his face. Edward’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes still wide with dread.

“Yeah,” I assured my father, smiling. “Heard them, too.”

“It was nice of them to show up,” Charlie said.

“It was.”

Okay, so telling Edward had been a really bad idea. Alice was right to keep her thoughts clouded. I should have waited till we were alone somewhere, maybe with the rest of his family. And nothing breakable close by—like windows…cars…school buildings. His face brought back all my fear and then some. Though his expression was past the fear now—it was pure fury that was suddenly plain on his features.

“So where do you want to go out for dinner?” Charlie asked. “The sky’s the limit.”

This snapped me back into focus. “Go out? Dad, I can just cook.”

“Don’t be silly. Do you want to go to the Lodge?” he asked with an eager smile.

I neither liked nor disliked Charlie’s favorite restaurant, but I wanted Charlie to be happy, and I wasn’t sure if I’d have much of an appetite to eat, anyway.

“Sure, the Lodge is good,” I said.

Charlie smiled wider, and then he turned slightly toward Edward.

“Are you joining us, Edward?”

I stared at him, my eyes beseeching. Edward pulled his expression together just before Charlie had turned to completely face him.

“No, thank you,” Edward said stiffly, his face hard and cold.

“Do you have plans with your parents?” Charlie asked, clearly taken aback by Edward’s sudden hostility.

“Yes. If you’ll excuse me…” Edward turned abruptly and stalked away through the dwindling crowd. He moved just a little bit too fast, too upset to keep up his usually perfect charade.

“What did I say?” Charlie asked with a guilty expression.

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” I reassured him. “It wasn’t anything you did.”

“You two aren’t fighting are you?”

“No, no fighting. Maybe he’s just upset at seeing Jacob again after what happened the other day,” I managed to lie rather convincingly, especially for me.

“I suppose I can’t fault him for that.” Charlie mumbled.

“Let’s go eat, okay?”

The Lodge was crowded. The place was, in my opinion, a little overpriced and slightly tacky, but it was the only thing close to a formal restaurant in town, so it was always popular for events. I fidgeted in my seat while Charlie ate prime rib and talked over the back of the seat to Tyler Crowley’s parents. It was noisy—everyone there had just come from graduation, and most were chatting across the aisles and over the booth-tops like Charlie.

I had my back to the front windows, and I resisted the urge to turn around and search for the eyes I could feel on me now. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything. Just as I knew there was no chance that he would leave me unguarded, even for a second. Not after this.

Dinner seemed to drag. Charlie, busy socializing, ate slowly. At least I managed to work up a bit of an appetite, I ate small pieces of my burger bit by bit. It all seemed to take a very long time, but when I looked at the clock—which I did more often than necessary—the hands hadn’t moved much.

Finally Charlie got his change back and put a tip on the table. I stood up a bit too quickly.

“In a hurry?” he asked me.

“Er, I just wanted to help Alice set things up,” I claimed.

“Okay, kiddo.” He turned away from me to say goodnight to everyone. I waved and went out to wait by the cruiser.

I leaned against the passenger door, waiting for Charlie, and trying to center myself. It was almost dark in the parking lot, the clouds so thick that there was no telling if the sun had set or not. The hair felt heavy, like it was about to rain.

Something moved in the shadows.

My gasp turned to a sigh of relief as Edward appeared out of the gloom.

Without a word, he pulled me tightly against his chest. One cool hand found my chin, and pulled my face up so that he could press his hard lips to mine. I could feel the tension in his jaw.

“How are you?” I asked as soon as he let me breathe.

“Not so great,” he murmured. “But I’ve got a handle on myself. I’m sorry that I lost it back there.”

“I’m sorry. I should have waited to tell you.”

“No,” he disagreed. “This is something I needed to know. I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”

“You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“And you don’t?”

He suddenly kissed me again, not letting me answer. He pulled away after just a second. “Charlie’s on his way.”

“I’ll have him drop me at your house.”

“I’ll follow you there.”

“That’s not really necessary,” I tried to say, but he was already gone.

“Beau?” Charlie called from the doorway of the restaurant, squinting into the darkness.

“I’m out here.”

Charlie sauntered to the car, muttering about impatience.

“So how do you feel?” he asked me as we drove north along the highway. “It’s been a big day.”

“I feel okay,” I lied.

He laughed, seeing through me easily. “Worried about the party?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” I said, and I realized it wasn’t entirely a lie.

“You were never one for parties.”

“Wonder where I got that from,” I raised an eyebrow at him.

Charlie chuckled. “Well, you look great. I wish I’d thought to get you something. Sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, Dad. You got me dinner, and it was great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. But it’s not silly. I feel like I don’t always do everything for you that I should.”

“That’s ridiculous. You do a fantastic job. You’re…” I felt a lump forming in my throat, caught off guard by my emotions. I tried clearing my throat to continue. “You’re really the best dad ever… and I’m… I’m really glad I came to live with you, Dad. It was the best idea I ever had.” I cleared my throat again and tried to lighten my voice. “So don’t worry—you’re just experiencing post-graduation pessimism.”

He snorted, but I could see the tears in the corners of his eyes. “Maybe.” Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure I’ve slipped up in a few places. I mean, look at your hand!”

I stared down blankly at my hands. My left hand rested lightly on the dark brace I rarely thought about. My sprained knuckle didn’t hurt much anymore.

“I never thought I needed to teach you how to throw a punch. Guess I was wrong about that.”

“It’s alright, I probably did something wrong.”

“Beau, if someone kisses you without your permission, you should be able to make your feelings clear without hurting yourself. You didn’t keep your thumb inside your fist, did you?”

“No, Dad. I appreciate the idea, but I don’t think lessons would have helped. Jacob’s head is really hard.”

Charlie laughed. “Hit him in the gut if he tries again.”

“After the punch didn’t work I just kneed him in the… well, you know…” I shrugged. “I think that got my message across pretty good.”

“You—“ Charlie didn’t finish, he was laughing so hard the car swerved a little.

“Careful, Dad!” I admonished, laughing a little myself.

“Beau,” he chuckled, “I don’t know why I worried.” He sighed. “But try not to be too hard on Jacob. He’s… young.”

“He’s obnoxious.”

“He’s still your friend.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I don’t really know what the right thing to do here is, Dad.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “Yeah. The right thing isn’t always real obvious. Sometimes the right thing for one person is the wrong thing for someone else. I can’t tell you what the answer is. I wish I could… but, in the end, you have to do what’s best for you. Not what makes everyone else happy, you know?”

I thought about what he said for moment. “Thanks, Dad. Really.”

He nodded, then frowned. “Hey, if this party gets too wild…,” he began.

“Don’t worry, Dad. Carlisle and Esme are going to be there. I’m sure you can come, too, if you want.”

Charlie grimaced as he squinted though the windshield into the night. Charlie enjoyed a good party just about as much as I did.

“Where’s the turnoff, again?” he asked. “They ought to clear out their drive—it’s impossible to find in the dark.”

“Just around the next bend, I think.” I pursed my lips. “You know, you’re right—it is impossible to find. Alice said she put a map in the invitation, but even so, maybe everyone will get lost.” I cheered slightly at the idea.

“Maybe,” Charlie said as the road curved to the east. “Or… maybe not.”

The black velvet darkness was interrupted ahead, just where the Cullens’ drive should be. Someone had wrapped the trees on either side in thousands of twinkle lights, impossible to miss.

“Damn it, Alice,” I said sourly.

“Wow,” Charlie said as we turned onto the drive. The two trees at the entry weren’t the only ones lit. Every twenty feet or so, another shining beacon guided us toward the big white house. All the way—all three miles of the way.

“She doesn’t do things halfway, does she?” Charlie mumbled in awe.

“Sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Extremely sure. Have fun, kid.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He was laughing to himself as I got out and shut the door. I waved goodbye as he drove away, still grinning. I took a deep breath, put on my best face, and marched up the stairs to endure my party.